* Why starts he thus in gesture wild? Alas! he mourns his darling child! His child, his second self, is gone! And all his life's best hopes are flown! Pity with me his sorrows deep, And kindly deign once more to weepFor see! where now in lonely dale, He wounded sighs, and tells his tale! "Child of my heart! (alas! no words can tell "The grief which rends my soul, to say) farewell! "Farewell? O Heav'ns! what gone? for ever fled? "And is my darling shrouded with the dead? "Her voice, her step, her face, her look, in vain "I long to listen to, or see again! "All the fair bloom, the charms, which Nature 66 gave "With lavish hand, are buried in the grave? "The voice which stole like music o'er my ear, "The step which brought my chearful herald near, "The face which beam'd with innocence divine, "And look which told me she was more than mine, "The quick and just conceptions of her mind, "Earnest of various worth and taste refin'd; 66 (Delighted with a mimic hand to trace "Each fancied form or blooming flow'rets grace, "The while she warbled with sweet artless glee "The "Red,Red Rose," or "Willow, Willow Tree,") "All, all are gone! and life to me now seems "A weary waste o'ercast with idle dreams! "Oh! with what doating fondness have I prest "The dear, pale suff'rer to my aching breast! "Or with what rapture gaz'd, whene'er my child, "Gay with returning health, exulting smil'd! "Not all the wealth of Princes could bestow "One moment's transports such as those to know. * See note, p. 136. "Now, all my fears confirm'd, my hopes deceiv'd, Reft of my child, I am indeed bereav'd! 66 "Pain, sickness, poverty extreme, were bliss, "To me, compar'd with such a loss as this! "O selfish man! 'tis not myself that bears "This deep affliction-she who more than shares "In all my growing pains or pleasures, wild, "In mute distraction, mourns with me her child. "Alike by day and night with grief opprest, "The sad affliction loads her lab'ring breast, "E'en the kind hours which Nature form'd for sleep, 66 "Forbid her rest, and summon her to weep; "E'en in her happiest moments, when she seems "To clasp her dearest Lydia in her dreams, "She wakes to give a keener anguish birth, "For lo! her Lydia slumbers in the earth! "Oh! had it pleas'd indulgent Heav'n to spare "Our child in health, quick as she was to share "With us our joys or sorrows, with delight "We'd toil'd from earliest morn to latest night: "Or that denied, we'd begg'd from door to door "Our daily bread with her, nor wish'd for more! "Scoth'd by her dear attentions, all the hours "Of life had pass'd as o'er a path of flow'rs: "True, the inclement blast, the freezing air, 66 Blowing on limbs like her's expos'd and bare, "Had pierc'd us to the heart, and Charity denied, "Had oft a sigh, and silent tear supplied. "Yet He who clothes the flow'rs, the ravens feeds, "Had giv❜n to nature all that nature needs. "More beauteous when array'd in Health's full glow, 66 "Than all the pride which purple can bestow ! "Thrice blest, allow'd e'en destitute to prove "Such sweets of Sensibility and Love! "O fatal hour! that summon'd us to part,. "To me it seem'd soft slumber-lo! 'twas death! "And I, like thee, dear child! my soul resign!" Her fancied epitaph, in verse: "Reader! beneath this bank of silent earth, "There rests a child of more than common worth, "Chill'd by a blight, soon droops and fades away, 66 "Here sleeps her dust, the virtues of her mind "Survive, and leave a fragrance sweet behind : * See Matt. xviii. 10. which may be thus rendered-" Despise not one of these little ones" (speaking of children) " for I say unto you, that the Angels of such do behold for evermore the face of Father which is in Heaven." my *Her soul ascends a spirit pure to heaven, But ah! too tedious is the Muse To mark with truth the sacred place: "With aching heart, and trembling hand, I write, "But if, in tears, I trace the sad record, "Ere long, perhaps, beneath this selfsame stone, 6 Yet deem not, that your mourning Friend To Consolation's balm will lend A dull, cold ear. No! thanks to heaven VOL. V. *Two other darling babes, to claim And now, kind Sylph, farewell, excuse And till we meet again, once more farewell! J. W. H. MARY ANN AND JOHN. BY THE SAME. Addressed to Mrs. O, in return for a New-Year's-Gift and Verses to the Children, Jan. 1, 1806. THERE in my garden gaily tripping, As blithe as any lambkins skipping, And pleas'd like them, they know not why. You wonder whence such pleasure flows, * M. A. born June 1798. J. W. born July 1799. |