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"Why are you crying thus," said I,
"While others laugh, and shout with joy?"
She kissed me, and, with such a sigh,
She called me her poor Orphan Boy!
"What is an orphan boy?" I said,

When, suddenly, she gasped for breath;
And her eyes closed-I shrieked for aid,

But, ah! her eyes were closed in death!
And now they've tolled my mother's knell,
And I'm no more a parent's joy;
O, Lady!I have learned too well
What 'tis to be an Orphan Boy!
Oh! were I by your bounty fed-
Nay, gentle Lady, do not chide;
Trust me, I mean to earn my bread;
The sailor's orphan boy has pride!
Lady, you weep!-Ha!-this to me?
You'll give me clothing, food, employ?
Look down, dear parents! look and see
Your happy, happy Orphan Boy!

XXXIII.-BETH GELERT.-W. L. Spencer.

THE spearman heard the bugle sound, and cheerly smiled the morn,
And many a brach, and many a hound, attend Llewellyn's horn;
And still he blew a louder blast, and gave a louder cheer;
"Come, Gelert! why art thou the last Llewellyn's horn to hear?
Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam? the flower of all his race!
So true, so brave! a lamb at home--a lion in the chace!"

"Twas only at Llewellyn's board the faithful Gelert fed;
He watched, he served, he cheered his lord, and sentinel'd his bed.
In sooth, he was a peerless hound, the gift of royal John ;—
But now no Gelert could be found, and all the chace rode on.

And now, as over rocks and dells the gallant chidings rise,
All Snowdon's craggy chaos yells with many mingled cries.
That day Llewellyn little loved the chace of hart or hare,
And scant and small the booty proved-for Gelert was not there.
Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied; when, near the portal seat,
His truant Gelert he espied, bounding his Lord to greet.
But when he gained the castle door, aghast the chieftain stood;
The hound was smeared with gouts of gore:-his lips and fangs ran
blood!

Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise, unused such looks to meet;
His favourite checked his joyful guise, and crouched and licked his
feet.

Onward in haste Llewellyn passed-and on went Gelert too;

And still, where'er his eyes were cast, fresh blood-gouts shocked his view!

O'erturned his infant's bed he found! the blood-stained covert rent;
And all around the walls and ground with recent blood besprent!
He called his child-no voice replied! he searched with terror wild;
Blood! blood! he found on every side, but no-where found the child!

"Hell-hound! by thee my child's devoured!" the frantic father cried,
And to the hilt his vengeful sword he plunged in Gelert's side!-
His suppliant as to earth he fell, no pity could impart ;
But still his Gelert's dying yell passed heavy o'er his heart.

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, some slumberer wakened nigh;
What words the parent's joy can tell, to hear his infant cry!
Concealed beneath a mangled heap his hurried search had missed,
All glowing from his rosy sleep his cherub boy he kissed!
Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread--But the same couch beneath,
Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead-tremendous still in death!

Ah! what was then Llewellyn's pain! for now the truth was clear;
The gallant hound the wolf had slain, to save Llewellyn's heir.
Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe: "Best of thy kind, adieu!
The frantic deed which laid thee low, this heart shall ever rue!"
-And now a gallant tomb they raise, with costly sculpture decked;
And marbles, storied with his praise, poor Gelert's bones protect.
Here never could the spearman pass, or forester, unmoved;
Here oft the tear be-sprinkled grass Llewellyn's sorrow proved.
And here he hung his horn and spear; and oft, as evening fell,
In fancy's piercing sounds would hear poor Gelert's dying yell!

XXXIV.-A SHIP SINKING.-Wilson.

-HER giant form,

O'er wrathful surge, through blackening storm,
Majestically calm, would go

'Mid the deep darkness white as snow!
But gently now the small waves glide,

Like playful lambs o'er a mountain's side.

So stately her bearing, so proud her array,

The main she will traverse for ever and aye.

Many ports will exult at the gleam of her mast!

-Hush! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour is her last.
Five hundred souls, in one instant of dread,

Are hurried o'er the deck;

And fast the miserable ship

Becomes a lifeless wreck!

Her keel hath struck on a hidden rock,

Her planks are torn asunder,

And down come her masts with a reeling shock,

And a hideous crash, like thunder!

Her sails are draggled in the brine,

That gladdened late the skies;

And her pendant, that kissed the fair moonshine,

Down many a fathom lies.

Her beauteous sides, whose rainbow hues

Gleamed softly from below,

And flung a warm and sunny flush

O'er the wreaths of murmuring snow,

To the coral rocks are hurrying down,

To sleep amid colours as bright as their own.

Oh! many a dream was in the ship
An hour before her death;

And sights of home, with sighs, disturbed
The sleeper's long-drawn breath.
Instead of the murmur of the sea,
The sailor heard the humming-tree,
Alive through all its leaves;-
The hum of the spreading sycamore
That grows before his cottage door,
And the swallow's song in the eaves;-
His arms enclosed a blooming boy,
Who listened, with tears of sorrow and joy,
To the dangers his father had passed;
And his wife--by turns she wept and smiled,
As she looked on the father of her child
Returned to her heart at last!

--He wakes, at the vessel's sudden roll-
And the rush of waters is in his soul!
Astounded, the reeling deck he paces,
'Mid hurrying forms and ghastly faces;-
The whole ship's crew is there!
Wailings around and overhead--
Brave spirits stupified or dead--
And madness and despair!

Now is the ocean's bosom bare,
Unbroken as the floating air;
The ship hath melted quite away,

Like a struggling dream at break of day.

No image meets my wandering eye,

But the new-risen sun and the sunny sky:

Though the night-shades are gone, yet a vapour dull,

Bedims the wave so beautiful;

While a low and melancholy moan,

Mourns for the glory, that hath flown!

XXXV. GERTRUDE VON DER WART.—Mrs. Hemans.

HER hands were clasped, her dark eyes raised, the breeze threw back her hair;

Up to the fearful wheel she gazed;-all that she loved was there!
The night was round her clear and cold, the holy heaven above;
Its pale stars watching to behold the might of earthly love.

"And bid me not depart," she cried; "my Rudolph, say not so;
This is no time to quit thy side; peace-peace! I cannot go.
Hath the world aught for me to fear, when death is on thy brow?
The world-what means it?--mine is here; I will not leave thee now!

"I have been with thee in thine hour of glory and of bliss;
Doubt not its memory's living power, to strengthen me through this.
And thou, mine honoured lord and true, bear on, bear nobly on!
We have the blessed heaven in view, whose rest shall soon be won:"

And were not these high words to flow from woman's breaking heart?
Through all that night of bitterest woe, she bore her lofty part;
But oh! with such a glazing eye, with such a curdling cheek,
Love, love, of mortal agony, thou, only thou, shouldst speak!
The wind rose high, but with it rose her voice that he might hear:
Perchance that dark hour brought repose to happy bosoms near;
While she sat pining with despair, beside his tortured form,
And pouring her deep soul in prayer, forth on the rushing storm.
Oh! lovely are ye, Love and Faith, enduring to the last!
She had her meed! one smile in death--and his worn spirit passed!
While, even as o'er a martyr's grave, she knelt on that sad spot;
And, weeping, blessed the God who gave strength to forsake it not!

XXXVI.-WILLIAM AND MARGARET.-Mallet.

"TWAS at the silent solemn hour when night and morning meet,
In glided Margaret's grimly ghost, and stood at William's feet.
Her face was like an April morn, clad in a wintry cloud;
And clay-cold was her lily hand, that held her sable shroud.
-So shall the fairest face appear, when youth and years are flown;
Such is the robe that kings must wear, when Death has reft their crown.
--Her bloom was like the springing flower, that sips the silver dew;
The rose was budded in her cheek, just opening to the view.
But Love had, like the canker-worm, consumed her early prime:
The rose grew pale-then left her cheek--she died before her time!
"Awake!" she cried, "thy true love calls, come from her midnight
grave;

Now let thy pity hear the maid, thy love refused to save.

This is the dumb and dreary hour, when injured ghosts complain; When yawning graves give up their dead, to haunt the faithless

swain.

Bethink thee, William, of thy fault, thy pledge, and broken oath,
And give me back my maiden vow, and give me back my troth.
Why did you promise love to me, and not that promise keep?
Why did you swear my eyes were bright, yet leave those eyes to
weep?

How could you say my face was fair, and yet that face forsake?
How could you win my virgin heart, yet leave that heart to break?
Why did you say my lip was sweet, and made the scarlet pale ?
And why did I,-young, witless maid,--believe the flattering tale!
That face, alas! no more is fair, those lips no longer red;
Dark are my eyes, now closed in death, and every charm is fled.
The hungry worm my sister is; the winding-sheet I wear:
And cold and weary lasts our night, till that last morn appear.

-But hark! the dawn has warned me hence; a long and late adieu!
Come, see, false man! how low she lies, who died for love of you!"
The lark sang loud; the morning smiled with beams of rosy red:
Pale William quaked in every limb, and raving left his bed.
He hied him to the fatal place where Margaret's body lay,
And stretched him on the grass-green turf, that wrapped her breath-
less clay;

And thrice he called on Margaret's name, and thrice he wept full sore Then laid his cheek on her cold grave, and word spoke never more!

XXXVII. THE IDIOT BOY.-Southey.

IT had pleased Heaven to form poor Ned a thing of idiot-mind;
Yet to the poor unreasoning man, Heaven had not been unkind.
Old Sarah loved her helpless child, whom helplessness made dear ;
And life was happiness to him, who had no hope or fear.

She knew his wants, she understood each half-articulate call;
And he was every thing to her, and she to him was all.
And so for many a year they dwelt, nor knew a wish beside;
But age at length on Sarah came, and she fell sick and died.
He tried, in vain, to 'waken her; he called her o'er and o'er;
They told him, she was dead;-the sound to him no import bore.
They closed her eyes and shrouded her, and he stood wondering by,
And when they bore her to the grave, he followed silently.
They laid her in the narrow house, they sang the funeral stave;
But, when the funeral train dispersed, he loitered by the grave.
The rabble boys, who used to jeer whene'er they saw poor Ned,
Now stood and watched him at the grave, and not a word they said.
They came and went, and came again, till night at last drew on;
And still he loitered by the grave, till all the rest were gone.
And when he found himself alone, he swift removed the clay;
And raised the coffin up in haste, and bore it swift away.
And when he reached his hut, he laid the coffin on the floor;
And with the eagerness of joy, he barred the cottage door.
And out he took his mother's corpse, and placed it in a chair;
And then he heaped the hearth, and blew the kindling fire with care
He placed his mother in her chair, and in her wonted place;
And blew the kindling fire, that shone reflected on her face.

66

And pausing, now her hand would feel, and now her face behold; Why, mother, do you look so pale? and why are you so cold?" -It had pleased Heaven, from the poor wretch his only friend to call But Heaven was kind to him, and soon in death restored him all.

XXXVIII.-CHRISTIAN WARFARE.-Charlotte Elizabeth.

SOLDIER, go-but not to claim

Mouldering spoils of earth-born treasure,

Not to build a vaunting name,

Not to dwell in tents of pleasure.

Dream not that the way is smooth,

Hope not that the thorns are roses;

Turn no wishful eye of youth

Where the sunny beam reposes;-
Thou hast sterner work to do,
Hosts to cut thy passage through:
Close behind thee gulfs are burning-
Forward! there is no returning.

Soldier, rest-but not for thee

Spreads the world her downy pillow;
On the rock thy couch must be,

While around thee chafes the billow:

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