Oer moor and mountain, midnight theft to hatch;

And often, viewing their sweet smiles, I sighed,

Rolled fast along the sky his warm and genial moon.

In tears, the sun towards that country tend

The staff I yet remember which upbore

On as we drove, the equinoctial deep

For never could I hope to meet with such another.

Twas a hard change, an evil time was come;

And her whom he had loved in joy, he said

For all belonged to all, and each was chief.

Husband and children! one by one, by sword

And groans, which, as they said, would make a dead man start.

And ear still busy on its nightly watch,

With thoughtless joy I stretchd along the shore

And knew not why. My happy father died

As if because her tale was at an end

Semblance, with straw and pauniered ass, they made

That when I loved him not I cannot say.

By Derwents side my Fathers cottage stood,

In the calm sunshine slept the glittering main.

And afterwards, by my good father taught,

And their long holiday that feared not grief,

But, what af?icts my peace with keenest ruth

Three lovely infants lay upon my breast;

To break my dream the vessel reached its bound:

I lived upon the mercy of the ?elds,

What could I do, unaided and unblest?

We seemed still more and more to prize each other:

An honest man by honest parents bred,

Near the sea-side I reached a ruined fort:

When market-morning came, the neat attire

That we the mercy of the waves should rue.

Driven by the bombs incessant thunder-stroke

I seemed transported to another world:--

With tears whose course no effort could con?ne,

And thence was borne away to neighbouring hospital.

Of that perpetual weight which on her spirit lay.

The rude earths tenants, were my ?rst relief:

Well met from far with revelry secure,

And now across this moor my steps I bend--

Mid the green mountains many and many a song

Of many things which never troubled me;

By high-way side forgetful would I sit

One ?eld, a ?ock, and what the neighbouring ?ood

Protract a curst existence, with the brood

And kindred of dead husband are at best

Seized their 九九藏書joint prey, the mother and the child!

Peaceful as some immeasurable plain

My husbands arms now only served to strain

By fever, from polluted air incurred,

Ill was I then for toil or service ?t:

All day, my ready tomb the ocean-?ood--

I read, and loved the books in which I read;

We talked of marriage and our marriage day;

Than dog-like, wading at the heels of war,

All perished--all, in one remorseless year,

High oer the cliffs I led my ?eecy store,

My Father dared his greedy wish gainsay;

And whistling, called the wind that hardly curled

Yet does that burst of woe congeal my frame,

While like a sea the storming army came,

He loved his old hereditary nook,

In Wants most lonely cave till death to pine,

At houses, men, and common light, amazed.

Now coldly given, now utterly refused,

We reached the western world, a poor, devoted crew.

Dizzy my brain, with interruption short

Some mighty gulph of separation past,

Ah! how unlike those late terri?c sleeps!

Then rose a mansion proud our woods among,

Me and his children hungering in his view:

Like one revived, upon his neck I wept,

Dried up, despairing, desolate, on board

All but the bed where his old body lay,

We had no hope, and no relief could gain.

All that is dear _in_ being! better far

And cottage after cottage owned its sway,

But from these crazing thoughts my brain, escape!

Of potters wandering on from door to door:

We gazed with terror on the gloomy sleep

Besides, on griefs so fresh my thoughts were brooding still.

And I in truth did love him like a brother,

Untaught that soon such anguish must ensue,

On hazard, or what general bounty yields,

I could not pray:--through tears that fell in showers,

Nor to the beggars language could I frame my tongue.

Unseen, unheard, unwatched by any star;

Nor yet the crowded ?eet its anchor stirred.

Close by my mother in their native bowers:

By grief enfeebled was I turned adrift,

Or hang on tiptoe at the lifted latch;

But from delay the summer calms were past.

Our hopes such harvest of af?iction reap,

The sabbath bells,九-九-藏-書 and their delightful chime;

The impatient mariner the sail unfurld,

All, all was seized, and weeping, side by side,

To cruel injuries he became a prey,

And I believe that, soon as I began

What tears of bitter grief till then unknown!

The lanes I sought, and as the sun retired,

The gloomy lantern, and the dim blue match,

Here watch, of every human friend disowned,

Oh! dreadful price of being to resign

The pains and plagues that on our heads came down,

Of hideous sense; I sunk, nor step could crawl,

The empty loom, cold hearth, and silent wheel,

Remote from man, and storms of mortal care,

The suns of twenty summers danced along,--

When the bees hummed, and chair by winter ?re;

The cowslip-gathering at Mays dewy prime;

At last my feet a resting-place had found:

With little kindness would to me incline.

That comes not to the human mourners breast.

Can I forget what charms did once adorn

To charm the surly house-dogs faithful bark.

When we began to tire of childish play

When sad distress reduced the childrens meal:

In deep despair by frightful wishes stirrd,

And groans, that rage of racking famine spoke,

Poor Father! gone was every friend of thine:

From the cross timber of an out-house hung;

(The Woman thus her artless story told)

Where my poor heart lost all its fortitude:

Fretting the fever round the languid heart,

Beat round, to sweep the streets of want and pain.

Better our dying bodies to obtrude,

There foul neglect for months and months we bore,

I looked and looked along the silent air,

Foregone the home delight of constant truth,

Fondly we wished, and wished away, nor knew,

And tears that ?owed for ills which patience could not heal.

That on his marriage-day sweet music made?

Green ?elds before us and our native shore,

But, when he had refused the proffered gold,

From far to meet me came, spreading their snowy pride.

Of them that perished in the whirlwinds sweep,

Was weak, nor of the past had memory.

Through pastures not his own, the master took;

And other joys my fancy to allure;

A British ship I waked九_九_藏_書, as from a trance restored.

And oft, robbd of my perfect mind, I thought

Peering above the trees, the steeple tower,

That lap (their very nourishment!) their brothers blood.

To him we turned:--we had no other aid.

And oft of cruelty the sky accused;

I lay, where with his drowsy mates, the cock

Ravage was made, for which no knell was heard.

Till all his substance fell into decay.

He well could love in grief: his faith he kept;

Disease and famine, agony and fear,

She wept;--because she had no more to say

His seat beneath the honeyed sycamore

No joy to see a neighbouring house, or stray

Nor dared my hand at any door to knock.

Till then he hoped his bones might there be laid,

The gambols and wild freaks at shearing time;

Supplied, to him were more than mines of gold.

When the dark streets appeared to heave and gape,

Here will I weep in peace, (so fancy wrought,)

No wain they drove, and yet, the yellow sheaf

Light was my sleep; my days in transport rolld:

The bag-pipe dinning on the midnight moor

With blindness linked, did on my vitals fall;

Hope died, and fear itself in agony was lost!

Of service done with careless cruelty,

Three years a wanderer, often have I viewd,

My father was a good and pious man,

Came, where beneath the trees a faggot blazed;

When stranger passed, so often I have checkd;

At morn my sick heart hunger scarcely stung,

Roaming the illimitable waters round;

In such dismay my prayers and tears were vain:

There, pains which nature could no more support,

There was a youth whom I had loved so long,

I heard my neighbours, in their beds, complain

And in his hearing there my prayers I said:

Was best, could I but shun the spot where man might come.

To loathsome vaults, where heart-sick anguish tossd,

For books in every neighbouring house I sought,

Bidding me trust in God, he stood and prayed,--

Mid that long sickness, and those hopes deferrd,

Nor pain nor pity in my bosom raised.

Small help, and, after marriage such as mine,

And rose and lilly for the sabbath morn?

The bending body of my active sire;

But 九九藏書life of happier sort to me pourtrayed,

And ill could I the thought of such sad parting brook.

And gave me food, and rest, more welcome, more desired.

Oh! tell me whither--for no earthly friend

That happier days we never more must view:

His little range of water was denied;[2]

And nothing to my mind a sweeter pleasure brought.

The parting signal streamed, at last the land withdrew,

We two had sung, like little birds in May.

For me--farthest from earthly port to roam

For them, in natures meads, the milky udder ?owed.

And ravenous plague, all perished: every tear

The very ocean has its hour of rest,

Dismissed, again on open day I gazed,

In wood or wilderness, in camp or town,

What tender vows our last sad kiss delayed!

In every vale for their delight was stowed:

Nor morsel to my mouth that day did lift,

Four years each day with daily bread was blest,

Recovery came with food: but still, my brain

Of feet still bustling round with busy glee,

It would thy brain unsettle even to hear.

When from the last hill-top, my sire surveyed,

A dizzy depth below! his boat and twinkling oar.

In barn uplighted, and companions boon

And now to the sea-coast, with numbers more, we drew.

So passed another day, and so the third:

Thrice happy! that from him the grave did hide

Is, that I have my inner self abused,

By the ?rst beams of dawning light impressd,

To join those miserable men he ?ew;

The breathing pestilence that rose like smoke!

Can I forget that miserable hour,

How dismal tolled, that night, the city clock!

Of looks where common kindness had no part,

His troubles grew upon him day by day,

And in a quiet home once more my father slept.

The mines dire earthquake, and the pallid host

Ah! little marked, how fast they rolled away:

And Murder, by the ghastly gleam, and Rape

My fathers nets, or watched, when from the fold

He must九_九_藏_書 repair, to ply the artists trade.

In depth of forest glade, when jocund June

These things just served to stir the torpid sense,

Ran mountains--high before the howling blaft.

His father said, that to a distant town

And near a thousand tables pined, and wanted food.

The wild brood saw me weep, my fate enquired,

Helpless as sailor cast on desart rock;

A thought resigned with pain, when from the mast

No plough their sinews strained; on grating road

My hens rich nest through long grass scarce espied;

Then did I try, in vain, the crowds resort,

The red-breast known for years, which at my casement peckd.

The swans, that, when I sought the water-side,

Until it seemed to bring a joy to my despair.

Whole hours, my idle arms in moping sorrow knit.

The ?elds I for my bed have often used:

Sore traversed in whateer he bought and sold:

But soon, with proud parade, the noisy drum

The shriek that from the distant battle broke!

The silent sea. From the sweet thoughts of home,

By constant toil and constant prayer supplied.

And Fire from Hell reared his gigantic shape,

--For weeks the balmy air breathed soft and mild,

Glimmerd our dear-loved home, alas! no longer ours!

To lisp, he made me kneel beside my bed,

And from all hope I was forever hurled.

And on the gliding vessel Heaven and Ocean smiled.

My heart is touched to think that men like these,

But ill it suited me, in journey dark

With which, though bent on haste, myself I deckd;

How kindly did they paint their vagrant ease!

Or in the streets and walks where proud men are,

My watchful dog, whose starts of furious ire,

Where looks inhuman dwelt on festering heaps!

A heavenly silence did the waves invest;

My garden, stored with pease, and mint, and thyme,

And clear and open soul, so prized in fearless youth.

And homeless near a thousand homes I stood,

The black disguise, the warning whistle shrill,

Memory, though slow, returned with strength; and thence

Have I.--She ceased, and weeping turned away,

We sought a home where we uninjured might abide.

Were not for me, brought up in nothing ill;