 | Redwald |  |
Yet 'tis not fear of the tempest dread
Makes Mable start from her restless bed,
And gaze on the vivid lightning's gleam,
And breathless list to the sea-fowl's scream.
Oh ye who have known what 'tis to hear
The rage of elements warring near,
And thought of friends on the ocean wide,
And shrunk at dangers that might betide,
Ye will believe that amidst such woe
But little of rest could Mable know!
Oh, did she fear for a brother's fate,
Or a father absent that night so late?
Or who was the object that claim'd her sighs,
And bade in her breast such terrors arise?
Her brother was far in the distant wars,
But yet was not he of her grief the cause.
Her sire had been dead for many a day,
And her aged mother in slumber lay.
None knew the fears that robb'd her of rest,
The secret slept in her trembling breast.
Makes Mable start from her restless bed,
8
And breathless list to the sea-fowl's scream.
Oh ye who have known what 'tis to hear
The rage of elements warring near,
And thought of friends on the ocean wide,
And shrunk at dangers that might betide,
Ye will believe that amidst such woe
But little of rest could Mable know!
Oh, did she fear for a brother's fate,
Or a father absent that night so late?
Or who was the object that claim'd her sighs,
And bade in her breast such terrors arise?
Her brother was far in the distant wars,
But yet was not he of her grief the cause.
Her sire had been dead for many a day,
And her aged mother in slumber lay.
None knew the fears that robb'd her of rest,
The secret slept in her trembling breast.
| Redwald | |