And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes Of famine fed upon all entrails-men ; Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand And they were enemies; they met beside Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things For an unholy usage; they raked up, And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath Blew for a little life, and made a flame Which was a mockery; then they lifted up Each other's aspects-saw, and shriek'd, and died- The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still, And nothing stirred within their silent depths; And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropp'd The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, RICHARD AND KATE. (A SUFFOLK BALLAD.) ROBERT BLOOMFIELD. "COME, goody, stop your humdrum wheel, Sweep up your orts, and get your hat; Old joys revived once more I feel; 'Tis fair-day;—aye, and more than that: "Have you forgot, Kate, prythee say, How many seasons here we've tarried? 'Tis forty years, this very day, Since you and I, old girl, were married! "Look out;-the sun shines warms and bright, "For I'm resolved once more to see Kate scorned to damp the generous flame Yet, ere determination came, She thus some trifling doubts expressed: "Night will come on; when seated snug, Can "Aye, Kate, I wool;—because I know, She straight slipped off the wall and band, And laid aside her lucks and twitches: And to the hutch she reached her hand, And gave him out his Sunday breeches. His mattock he behind the door, And hedging-gloves again replaced ; And looked across the yellow moor, And urged his tottering spouse to haste. The day was up, the air serene, The firmament without a cloud; The bee hummed o'er the level green, Where knots of trembling cowslips bowed. And Richard thus, with heart elate, As past things rushed across his mind, Over his shoulder talked to Kate, Who, snug tucked up, walked slow behind. "When once a giggling mauther you, "Once, passing by this very tree, A gotch of milk I'd been to fill, ""Tis true!" she said; "but here behold, "Well, goody, don't stand preaching now, Now friendly nods and smiles had they At length arrived amidst the throng, And soon the aged couple spied Their lusty sons and daughters dear :When Richard thus exulting cried, "Didn't I tell you they'd be here?" The cordial greetings of the soul 'Twas good to see the honest strife And hear the long-recounted life Of infant tricks, and happy days. But now, as at some nobler places, More famed for laughter than for speed. Richard looked on with wondrous glee, "Full fifty years are passed away I won the high-lows out and out! "I'm surely growing young again, I feel myself so kedge and plump: From head to foot I've not one pain; Nay, hang me if I couldn't jump!" Thus spoke the ale in Richard's pate, Who whispered thus:-"My good old fellow, "Remember what you promised me; Like youthful lover most complying, He turned and chucked her by the chin; Then all across the green grass hieing, Right merry faces, all akin, Their farewell smiles, beneath a tree That drooped its branches from above, Awaked the pure felicity That waits upon parental love. |