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The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe

with his letters and journals, and his life, by his son. In eight volumes

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“Early in life, beneath my parent's roof,
“Of man's true honour I had noble proof;

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“A generous lover who was worthy found,
“Where half his sex are hollow and unsound.
“My father fail'd in trade, and sorrowing died,
“When all our loss a generous youth supplied;
“And soon the time drew on when he should say,
“‘O! fix the happy, fix the early day!’
“Nor meant I to oppose his wishes, or delay:
“But then came fever, slight at first indeed,
“Then hastening on and threatening in its speed;
“It mock'd the powers of medicine; day by day
“I saw those helpers sadly walk away;—
“So came the hand-like cloud, and with such power
“And with such speed, that brought the mighty shower.
“Him nursed I dying, and we freely spoke
“Of what might follow the expected stroke;
“We talk'd of spirits, of their unknown powers,
“And dared to dwell on what the fate of ours;
“But the dread promise, to appear again,
“Could it be done, I sought not to obtain;
“But yet we were presuming,—‘Could it be,’
“He said, ‘O Emma! I would come to thee!’
“At his last hour his reason, late astray,
“Again return'd t'illuminate his way.
“In the last night, my mother long had kept
Unwearied watch, and now reclined and slept;
“The nurse was dreaming in a distant chair,
“And I had knelt to soothe him with a prayer;

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“When, with a look of that peculiar kind,
“That gives its purpose to the fellow mind,
“His manner spoke—‘Confide—be not afraid—
“‘I shall remember,’—this was all convey'd,—
“‘I know not what awaits departed man,
“‘But this believe—I meet thee if I can.’