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 | The forest minstrel |  |
Deep in the ship's side, in a wretched berth,
Was laid the mother of that hapless child,
Writhing and groaning with a fierce disease.
Her husband left his country for the land
Of equal rights, three weary years before;
And he had gained a comfortable home
For his dear wife and child, and they were now
Upon their voyage to rejoin him there.
His heart was yearning to embrace once more
The idol of his young and faithful love,
To clasp the sweet child, who in infancy
Sat cooing on his knee, or twined his neck
So lovingly with her soft little arms;
While Mary spread the neat but humble board.
His heart was masculine; it did not dwell,
Like woman's, on the dangers of the sea,
O'er which his loved ones journeyed. Could he now
Have stood beside that berth, how had his hopes
And glad heart-beatings died in pain away.
Was laid the mother of that hapless child,
Writhing and groaning with a fierce disease.
Her husband left his country for the land
Of equal rights, three weary years before;
And he had gained a comfortable home
For his dear wife and child, and they were now
Upon their voyage to rejoin him there.
His heart was yearning to embrace once more
The idol of his young and faithful love,
To clasp the sweet child, who in infancy
Sat cooing on his knee, or twined his neck
So lovingly with her soft little arms;
While Mary spread the neat but humble board.
His heart was masculine; it did not dwell,
Like woman's, on the dangers of the sea,
O'er which his loved ones journeyed. Could he now
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And glad heart-beatings died in pain away.
The murmuring widow gazed upon the scene;
And her heart smote her as she looked upon
Affliction so much bitterer than her own.
Beside that sufferer's bed no gentle friend
Stood, prompt to do the ministry of love;
And that poor little child, whose trembling hand
Held the cold water up to her parched lips,
Oh, how her sobs of childish agony
Convulsed the mother's heart! “Oh, Emeline!
Who will protect thee?—who will comfort thee,
And lead thee to thy father?” she exclaimed.
“I will protect thy child,” the widow said,
“And serve thee to the utmost of my power.”
“My God, I thank thee! Thou hast heard my voice,
My cares are all removed,—I die in peace!”
And her heart smote her as she looked upon
Affliction so much bitterer than her own.
Beside that sufferer's bed no gentle friend
Stood, prompt to do the ministry of love;
And that poor little child, whose trembling hand
Held the cold water up to her parched lips,
Oh, how her sobs of childish agony
Convulsed the mother's heart! “Oh, Emeline!
Who will protect thee?—who will comfort thee,
And lead thee to thy father?” she exclaimed.
“I will protect thy child,” the widow said,
“And serve thee to the utmost of my power.”
“My God, I thank thee! Thou hast heard my voice,
My cares are all removed,—I die in peace!”
| The forest minstrel | |