Hath she not dwelt too long Midst pain, and grief, and wrong? Then why not die? Why suffer again her doom of sorrow, And hopeless lie? think, And let it mitigate thy woe's excess, That thou hast been to me all tenderness, And friend to more than human friendship just. Why nurse the trembling dream until to-morrow? And by the hopes of an immortal trust, Reply, reply! God shall assuage thy pangs, when I am laid in dust! Go, Henry, go not back, when I depart, And must this parting be our very last? Give me one look before my life be gone, No! I shall love thee still, when death itself is Oh! give me that, and let me not despair, past. Half could I bear, methinks, to leave this earth, prayer." He had his wish, had more: I will not paint The lovers' meeting; she beheld him faint, And thee, more loved than aught beneath the sun, With tender fears, she took a nearer view, If I had lived to smile but on the birth Her terrors doubling as her hopes withdrew; Of one dear pledge; - but shall there then be He tried to smile; and, half succeeding, said, none, In future time, no gentle little one, To clasp thy neck, and look, resembling me ? THOMAS CAMPBELL. THE MOURNER. YES! there are real mourners, — I have seen A fair sad girl, mild, suffering, and serene; Attention (through the day) her duties claimed, And to be useful as resigned she aimed; Neatly she drest, nor vainly seemed t' expect Pity for grief, or pardon for neglect ; But when her wearied parents sunk to sleep, She sought her place to meditate and weep; Then to her mind was all the past displayed, That faithful memory brings to sorrow's aid: For then she thought on one regretted youth, Her tender trust, and his unquestioned truth; In every place she wandered, where they'd been, And sadly-sacred held the parting scene, Where last for sca he took his leave; that place With double interest would she nightly trace! Happy he sailed, and great the care she took, That he should softly sleep and smartly look; White was his better linen, and his check Was made more trim than any on the deck; And every comfort men at sea can know, Was hers to buy, to make, and to bestow : For he to Greenland sailed, and much she told, How he should guard against the climate's cold; Yet saw not danger; dangers he'd withstood, Nor could she trace the fever in his blood. His messmates smiled at flushings on his check, And he too smiled, but seldom would he speak; For now he found the danger, felt the pain, With grievous symptoms he could not explain. He called his friend, and prefaced with a sigh A lover's message, "Thomas, I must die; Would I could see my Sally, and could rest My throbbing temples on her faithful breast, And gazing go! if not, this trifle take, And say, till death I wore it for her sake: Yes! I must die -blow on, sweet breeze, blow on "Yes! I must die "- and hope forever fled. Still long she nursed him; tender thoughts meantime Were interchanged, and hopes and views sublime. She came with smiles the hour of pain to cheer, One day he lighter seemed, and they forgot The care, the dread, the anguish of their lot; They spoke with cheerfulness, and seemed to think, Yet said not so- "Perhaps he will not sink.” Then gazed affrighted; but she caught a last, She placed a decent stone his grave above, spare The least assistance, 't was her proper care. GEORGE CRABEE |