Peter Faultless to his brother Simon :: :: University of Virginia Library

Pensive and pale, arose the youth,
The child of feeling and of truth,
And modestly, and yet with pride,
His ancient fiddle laid aside,
Which not its weight in gold could buy.
True, it was clumsy to the eye;
True, its dark side some cracks display'd;
Yet was there more than music in't;
For why? 'twas by his grand-sire made,
The Genius, fam'd so far and wide,
Th' inventor of the butter-print!
The worm of death was in his breast.
Sarah, the faithless, met his eye,
Which grief and mute reproach express'd;
Then, gazing, self-condemn'd, on earth,
She heav'd, or seem'd to heave, a sigh;
But, lo, she saw the hairy hide
Of big-boned Jacob at her side,

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Her amorous mate! and, in its birth,
The infant, frail repentance, died.
At first, the Minstrel's voice was low,
As whisper'd prayer of fear, or woe;
But soon, distinct, and deep, and clear,
The soul-felt accents met the ear,
Full of that fervour of the heart
Which bids all earthly toys depart,
Taught by calamity to scorn
All that of human pride is born.