She had a sore grief of her own, And oft she said, I'm not grown thin! Then harder, till her grasp at length And once her both arms suddenly She felt them coming, but no power And with a kind of shriek she cried, So gentle Ellen now no more Could make this sad house cheery; And Mary's melancholy ways Drove Edward wild and weary. Lingering he raised his latch at eve, Though tired in heart and limb: He loved no other place, and yet One evening he took up a book, Then flung it down, and groaning cried, "O! Heaven! that I were dead." Mary look'd up into his face, And he burst into tears, and fell "Her heart is broke! O God! my grief, It is too great to bear!" 'Twas such a foggy time as makes Old sextons, sir! like me, Rest on their spades to cough; the spring Was late uncommonly. And then the hot days, all at once, You look'd about for shade, when scarce It happen'd then ('twas in the bower, Perhaps you know the place, and yet I scarce know how you should,—) No path leads thither, 'tis not nigh To any pasture-plot; But cluster'd near the chattering brook, Those hollies of themselves a shape A close, round arbour; and it stands Within this arbour, which was still Were these three friends, one Sunday morn, 'Tis sweet to hear a brook, 'tis sweet To hear the Sabbath-bell, 'Tis sweet to hear them both at once Deep in a woody dell. His limbs along the moss, his head With shut-up senses, Edward lay: And he had pass'd a restless night, * Some hollies mark the spot.-1809. + From the brook.-lb. The women sat down by his side, "The Sun peeps through the close thick leaves, See, dearest Ellen ! see! "Tis in the leaves, a little sun, No bigger than your ee; "A tiny sun, and it has got A perfect glory too; Ten thousand threads and hairs of light, Make up a glory gay and bright Round that small orb so blue." And then they argued of those rays, Says this, "They're mostly green;" says that, "They're amber-like to me." So they sat chatting, while bad thoughts But soon they heard his hard quick pants, "A mother too!" these self-same words His face was drawn back on itself, Both groan'd at once, for both knew well When he waked up, and stared like one He sat upright; and ere the dream 66 "O God, forgive me !" (he exclaim'd) Then Ellen shriek'd, and forthwith burst And Mary shiver'd, where she sat, And never she smiled after. Carmen reliquum in futurum tempus relegatum. THE NIGHT-SCENE. A DRAMATIC FRAGMENT. SANDOVAL. You loved the daughter of Don Manrique ? Earl Henry. Loved? Sandoval. Did you not say you woo'd her? Not loving Oropeza. True, I woo'd her, Oh! I were most base, |