Peter Faultless to his brother Simon tales of night, in rhyme, and other poems. By the author of Night [i.e. Ebenezer Elliott] |
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ELEGY. |
 | Peter Faultless to his brother Simon |  |
ELEGY.
Oh, Devon! when thy daughter died,The primrose peep'd on green hill's side,
The winds were laid, the melted snow
Was crystal in the river's flow,
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The hazel's crimson tuft was seen,
The schoolboy sought the mossy lane
To watch the building thrush again,
And many a bird, on budding spray,
Rejoic'd in April's sweetest day:
She, too, rejoic'd, thy wond'rous child,
For in the arms of death she smil'd.
And when her wearied strength was spent,
When pale as marble monument,
Eliza mov'd and spoke no more,
And pain's disastrous strife was o'er;
Her prattling babes might deem she slept,
And wonder why their father wept.
Why wept he? If, with soul unmov'd,
From all who lov'd her, all she lov'd,
From husband, children, she could part,
And meet the blow that still'd her heart;
Why wept he? Not that she was gone
To sing beneath th' eternal throne,
And kiss in heaven, with holy joy,
Her youngest born, that fatal boy,
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On him, still doom'd to walk with care.
Yes! still on him, from realms of light,
The seraph-matron bends her sight,
Still, still his friend in trouble tried,
Though sever'd from his lonely side.
He weeps!—for truth and beauty rest,
Beneath the shroud that wraps her breast;
Taste mourns a sister on her bier,
And more than genius moulders there.
The blessing of the sufferer
Bedews the turf that covers her;
And pallid want, from troubled sleep
Awakes, to think of her, and weep;
And orphans, taught by her to read,
Drop o'er her worth a silver bead.
She did not pass in scorn your door,
Ye drooping children of the poor!
The Sabbath-school she lov'd to seek;
(The heart's bless'd tear impearl'd her cheek;)
And, like an angel in a tomb,
Instruction smil'd away your gloom.
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Her death serene, as evening's shade!
Oh, bless'd in life! in death how bless'd!
And bliss is her eternal rest.
| Peter Faultless to his brother Simon | |