University of Virginia Library


129

HE CAME.

At length he came. None welcomed him;
The decent door was closed;
But near it stood a matron meek,
With pensive looks, composed:
She knew his face, though it was changed,
And gloom came o'er her brow;
“They're gone,” she said, “but you're in time;
They're in the churchyard now.”
He reach'd the grave, and sternly bade
The impatient shovel wait:
“Ann Spencer, agèd twenty-five,”
He read upon the plate.
“Why did'st thou seek a foreign land,
And leave me here to die?”
The sad inscriptions seem'd to say—
But he made no reply.
Her mother saw him through her tears,
But not a word she said—
Nor could he know that days had pass'd
Since last she tasted bread.

130

She stood in comely mourning there,
Self-stay'd in her distress;
The dead maid's toil bought earth and prayer;
Sleep on, proud Britoness!
But thou, meet parent of the dead!
Where now wilt thou abide?
With William in a foreign land;
Or by thy daughter's side?
Oh! William's broken heart is sworn
To cross no more the foam!
Full soon will men cry—“Hark! again!
Three now! they're all at home!”