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Alas! the fowls of heaven have wings, On the window.pane bedropped with rain:
And wake when it is day.
THE SAILOR'S MOTHER.
A woman on the road I met,
Not old, though something past her prime: Or hast been summoned to the deep, Majestic in her person, tall and straight; Thou, thou, and all thy mates, to keep And like a Roman matron's was her mien An incommnnicable sleep.
and gait. I look for ghosts; but none will force
The ancient spirit is not dead; Their way to me:--'tis falsely said
Old times, thought I, are breathing there; That there was ever intercourse
Proud was I that my country bred Betwixt the living and the dead;
Such strength, a dignity so fair: For, surely, then I should have sight
She begged an alms, like one in poor estate; Of him I wait for day and night,
I looked at her again, nor did my pride With love and longings infinite.
abate. My apprehensions come in crowds; I dread the rustling of the grass;
When from those lofty thoughts I woke,
"What treasure," said I, "do vou bear, The very shadows of the clouds Have power to shake me as they pass:
Beneath the covert of your cloak, I question things and do not find
Protected from the cold damp air ?" One that will answer to my mind ;
She answered, soon as she the question And all the worid appears unkind.
"A simple burden, sir, a little singingBeyond participation lie
bird. My troubles, and beyond relief: If any chance to heave a sigt,
“I had a son,—the waves might roar, They pity me and not my grief.
He feared them not, a sailor gay! Then come to me, my son, or send
But he will cross the deep no more : Some tidings that my woes may end ;
In Denmark he was cast away:
And I have travelled weary miles to see
remain for me. THE COTTAGER TO HER INFANT. "The bird and cage they both were his: BY A FEMALE FRIEND.
'Twas my son's bird; and neat and trim
He kept it: many voyages The days are cold, the nights are long, This singing-bird had gone with him : The north wind sings a doleful song; When last he sailed, he left the bird beThen hush again upon my breast;
hind: All merry things are now at rest,
From bodings, as might be, that hung upon Save thee, my pretty love !
his mind. The kitten sleeps upon the hearth, The crickets long have ceased their mirth;
He to a fellow-lodger's care There's nothing stirring in the house
Had left it, to be watched and sed,
And pipe its song in safety;-there
I found it when my son was dead;
And now, God help me for my little wit! Nay! start not at that sparkling light; I bear it with me, sir! he took so much deTis but the moon that shines so bright
light in it."
THE CHILDLESS FATHER.
Once, having seen her take with fond
embrace "UP, Timothy, up with your staff and This infant to herself, I framed a lay, away!
(will stay; Endeavouring, in my native tongue, to Not a soul in the village this morning
say: The hare has just started from Hamilton's Such things as she unto the child might grounds,
[hounds." And thus, from what I knew, had heards And Skiddaw is glad with the cry of the and guessed,
My song the workings of her heart exOf coats and of jackets gray, scarlet, and green,
[were seen; Dear babe, thou daughter of another, On the slopes of the pastures all colours | One moment let me be thy mother ! With their comely blue aprons, and caps | An infant's face and looks are thine, white as snow,
And sure a mother's heart is mine: The girls on the hills made a holiday show. Thy own dear mother's far away,
At labour in the harvest-ield: Fresh sprigs of green box-woord, not six Thy little sister is at play: months before,
(door; What warmth, what comfort would it yield Filled the funeral basin* at Timothy's To my poor heart, if thou wouldst be A coffin through Timothy's threshold had One litile hour a child to me ! past;
[his last. One child did it bear, and that child was Across the waters I am come,
And I have left a babe at home : Now fast up the dell came the noise and A long, long way of land and sea ! the fray,
[away! Come to me,I'm no enemy: The horse and the horn, and the hark! hark I am the same who at thy side Old Timothy took up his staff, and he shut Sate yesterday, and made a nest With a leisurely motiun the door of his For thee, sweet baby!—thou hast tried, hut.
Thou know'st the pillow of my breast;
Good, good art thou ;-alas to me Perhaps to himself at that moment he said, Far more than I can be to thee. “The key I must take, for my Ellen is dead.
[speak, “Here, little darling, dost thou lie ;
Mine art thou-spite of these my tears.
My baby and its dwelling-place ;
Be shed upon an infant's face, In which a lady driven from France did No truth is in them
who say so !
It was unlucky'—no, no, no; dwell;
(mourned, The big and lesser griefs, with which she “My own dear little one will sigh, 'n friendship, she to me would often tell.
Sweet babe ! and they will let him die. This lady, dwelling upon English ground, And you may see his hour is come.
• He pines,' they'll say, it is his doom. Where she was childless, daily would repair Oh! had he but thy cheerful smiles, To a poor neighbouring cottage; as I
Limbs stout as thine, and lips as gay, found,
[there. For sake of a young child whose home was Thy looks, thy cunning, and thy wiles,
And countenance like a summer's day,
They would have hopes of him-and then * In several parts of the north of England I should behold his face again ! when a funeral takes place, a basin full of sprigs of boxwood is placed at the door of the house from which the coffin is taken up, and each per. There was a smile or two-yet-yet
' 'Tis gone-like dreams that we forget; son who attends the funeral ordinarily takes a sprig of this boxwood, and throws it into the grave I can remember them, I see of the deceased.
The smile worth all the world to me.
Dear baby! I must lay thee down; The high-born Vaudracour was brought, Thou troublest me with strange alarms;
by years Smiles hast thou, bright ones of thy own; Whose progress had a little overstepped I cannot keep thee in my arms,
His stripling prime. A town of smali By those bewildering glances crost
repute, In which the light of his is lost.
Among the vine-clad mountains of
(wooed a maid "Oh! how I love thee!-we still stay Was the youth's birthplace. There he Together here this one half day.
Who heard the heart-felt music of his suit My sister's child, who bears my name,
With answering vows. Plebeian was the From France to sheltering England came;
stock, She with her mother crossed the sea ; Plebeian, though ingenuous, the stock, The babe and mother near me dwell: From which her graces and her honours My darling, she is not to me
[youth, What thou art! though I love her well:
And hence the father of the enamoured Rest, little stranger, rest thee here! With haughty indignation, spurned the Never was any child more dear!
Of such alliance.-From their cradles up. "-I cannot help it-ill intent
With but a step between their several I've none, my pretty innocent!
(strife I weep, I know they do thee wrong,
Twins had they been in pleasure; after These tears—and my poor idle tongue.
And petty quarrels, had grown fond again; Oh, what a kiss was that! my cheek
Each other's advocate, each other's stay; How cold it is! but thou art good;
And strangers to content if long apart, Thine eyes are on me—they would speak,
Or more divided than a sportive pair I think, to help me if they could.
Of sea-fowl, conscious both that they are Blessings upon that soft, warm face,
hovering My heart again is in its place!
Within the eddy of a common blast,
Or hidden only by the concave depth " While thou art mine, my little love,
Of neighbouring billows from each other's This cannot be a sorrowful grove;
sight. Contentment, hope, and mother's glee, I seem to find them all in thee:
Thus, not without concurrence of an age Here's grass to play with, here are flowers; Unknown to memory, was an earnest I'll call thee by my darling's name ;
given, Thou hast, I think, a look of ours,
By ready nature, for a life of love, Thy features seem to me the same;
For endless constancy, and placid truth; His little sister thou shalt be:
But whatsoe'er of such rare treasure lay And, when once more my home I see,
Reserved, had fate permitted, for support 11 tell him many tales of thee."
Of their maturer years, his present mind
Arabian fiction never filled the world
With half the wonders that were wrought
for him. The following tale was written as an episode in Earth breathed in one great presence of the
(spring, a work from which its length may, perhaps Life turned the meanest of her implements, exclude it. The facts are true; no invention as to these has been exercised, as none was Before his eyes, to price above all gold; needed.
The house she dwelt in was a sainted
shrine: OH, happy time of youthful lovers, (thus Her chamber window did surpass in glory My story may begin,) oh, balmy time, The portals of the dawn; all paradise In which a love-knot on a lady's brow Could, by the simple opening of a door, Is fairer than the fairest star in heaven! Let itself in upon him: pathways, walks, To such inheritance of blessed fancy Swarmed with enchantment, till his spirit (Fancy that sports more desperately with sank, minds
Surcharged, within him, -overblest to move Than ever fortune hath been known to do) | Beneath a sun that wakes a weary world
To its dull round of ordinary cares; In the unrelenting east. Through all her A man too happy for mortality!
The vacant city slept; the busy winds, So passed the time, till, whether through Moved not; meanwhile the galaxy dis
That keep no certain intervals of rest, effect Of some unguarded moment that dissolved Her fires, that like mysterious pulses bert
played Virtuous restraint-ah, speak it, think it Aloft ;-momentous but uneasy bliss!
not! Deem rather that the fervent youth, who To their full hearts the universe seemed
hung So many bars between his present state And the dear haven where he wished to be on that brief meeting's slender filament ! In honourable wedlock with his love,
They parted; and the generous VaudraWas in his judgment tempted to decline To perilous weakness, and intrust his cause Reached speedily the native threshold, bent To nature for a happy end of all; Deem that by such fund hope the youth A sacrifice of birthright to attain
On making (so the lovers had agreed) was swayed,
add A final portion from his father's hand; And bear with their transgression, when I which granted, bride and bridegroom then That Julia, wanting yet the name of wise,
would flee Carrie about her for a secret grief
To some remote and solitary place, The promise of a mother.
Shady as night, and beautiful as heaven,
To conceal The threatened shame, the parents of the Their happiness, or to disturb their love.
Where they may live, with no one to behold maid Found means to hurry her away by night
But now of this no whisper; not the less,
If ever an obtrusive word were dropped And unforewarned, ihat in some distant Touching the matter of his passion, still,
spot She might remain shrouded in privacy,
In his stern father's hearing, Vaudracour Until the babe was born. When morning Should abrogate his human privilege
Persis:ed openly that death alone
Divine, of swearing everlasting truth,
"You shall be baffled in your mad intent
If there be justice in the court of France, Discovering traces of the fugitives,
Muttered the father.- From these words Their steps he followed to the inaid's re
Conceived a terror,-and, by night or day, The sequel may be easily divined,
Stirred nowhere without weapons—that Walks to and fro-watchings at every hour;
full soon And the fair captive, who, whene'er she Found dreadful provocation: for at night may,
When to his chamber he retired, attempt Is busy at her casement as the swallow Fluttering its pinions, almost within reach, Was made to seize him by three armed About the pendent nest, did thus espy Her lover! -- thence a stolen interview,
Acting, in furtherance of the father's will,
Under a private signet of the state. Accomplished under friendly shade
One, did the youth's ungovernable hand night.
Assault and slay, and to a second gave
A perilous wound, --he shuddered to behold I pass the raptures of the pair;-—such The breathless curse; then peacefully retheme
signed Is, by innumerable poets, touched His person to the law, was lodged in prison, In more delightful verse than skill of mine And wore the fetters of a criminal. Could fashion, chiefly by that darling bard Who told of Juliet and her Romeo,
Have you beheld a tuft of winged seed And of the 'ark's note heard before its time, | That, from the dandelion's naked stalk, And of the streaks that laced the severing Mounted aloft, is suffered not to use clouds
Its natural gists fur purposes of rest,
Driven by the autumnal whirlwind to and And what, through strong compunction fro
for the past, Through the wide element? or have you He suffered — breaking down in heart and The heavier substance of a leaf-clad bough, mind! Within the vortex of a foaming flood, Tormented? by such and you may con- Doomed to a third and last captivity, ceive
His freedom he recovered on the eve The perturbation of each mind;-ah, no! Of Julia's travail. When the babe was born, Desperate the maid-the youth is stained Its presence tempted him tocherish schemes with blood !
Of future happiness. “You shall return. But as the troubled seed and tortured bough Julia," said he, "and to your father's house Is man, subjected to despotic sway. Go with the child. - You have been
wretched ; yet
(then weighs For him, by private influence with the The silver shower, whose reckless bur
Too heavily upon the lily's head, Was pardon gained, and liberty procured: Malice, beholding you, will melt away.
Oft leaves a saving moisture at its root. But not without exaction of a pledge
Go !-'tis a town where both of us were Which liberty and love dispersed in air. He flew to her from whom they would None will reproach you, for our truth is
(known ; divide himHe clove to her who could no: give him And if, amidst those once-bright bowers, Yea, his first word of greeting was, —“All Remain unpitied, pity is not in man.
our fate right Is gone from me; my lately-towering hopes, Or art can fashion, shall you deck your
With ornaments-ihe prettiest nature yields To the least fibre of their lowest root, Are withered ;-thou no longer canst be and feed his countenance with your own
[sweet looks mine,
[woo Till no one can resist him.- Now, even now, I thine—the conscience-stricken must not The unruffled innocent, -I see thy face,
I see him sporting on the sunny lawn ; Behold thee, and my misery is complete!" My father from the window sees him too :
Startled, as if some new-created thing
Enriched the earth, or faery of the woods "One, are we not ?" exclaimed the Bounded before him ;-but the unweeting mziden—"One, (woe?" child
(heart For innocence and youth, for weal and Shall by his beauty win his grandsire's Then with the father's name she coupled So that it shall be sostened, and our loves words
End happily-as they began ! Of vehement indignation ; but the youth
These gleams Checked her with filial meekness ; for no Appeared but seldom : oftener was he seen thought
Propping a pale and melancholy face Uncharitable, no presumptuous rising Upon the mother's bosom ; resting thus Of hasty censure, modelled in the eclipse His head upon one breast, while from the Of true domestic loyalty, did e'er
other Find place within his bosom.-Once again The babe was drawing in its quiet food. The persevering wedge of tyranny That pillow is no longer to be thine, Achieved their separation ;--and once Fond youth! that mournful solace now
must pass Were they united, -to be yet again Into the list of things that cannot be ! Disparted-pitiable lot! But here Unwedded Julia, terror-smitten, hears A portion of the tale may well be left The sentence, by her mother's lip proIn silence, though my memory could add nounced,
(shall tell, Much how the youth, in scanty space of That dooms her to a convent. Who
(of thoughts who dares report the vidings to the Was traversed from without ; much, too, lord That occupied his days in solitude Of her affections? So they blindly asked Under privation and restraint ; and what. Who knew not to what quiet depths a Through dark and shapeless fear of weight
Of agony had pressed the sufferer down ;
things to come,