THE MEMORIAL PILLAR. Hast thou, thro' Eden's wild-wood vales pursued Nor with attention's lifted eye, revered That modest stone, by pious Pembroke rear'd, ROGERS. MOTHER and child! whose blending tears Have sanctified the place, Where, to the love of many years, Was given one last embrace; Oh! ye have shrin'd a spell of power, Deep in your record of that hour! A spell to waken solemn thought, A still, small under-tone, That calls back days of childhood, fraught With many a treasure gone; And smites, perchance, the hidden source, Tho' long untroubled—of remorse. For who, that gazes on the stone Who but a mother's love hath known, Alas! and haply learn'd its worth First with the sound of "Earth to earth?" But thou, high-hearted daughter! thou, Blessings and tears of holiest flow, For oh! tho' painful be th' excess, The might wherewith it swells, In nature's fount no bitterness Of nature's mingling, dwells; And thou hadst not, by wrong or pride, Poison'd the free and healthful tide. But didst thou meet the face, no more, It was!-On earth no other eye No other voice could pierce the maze The sounds and dreams of other days, No other smile to thee could bring A gladd'ning, like the breath of spring. Yet, while thy place of weeping still Its lone memorial keeps, While on thy name, midst wood and hill, The quiet sunshine sleeps, And touches, in each graven line, Of reverential thought a sign; Can I, while yet these tokens wear The impress of the dead, Think of the love embodied there, As of a vision fled? A perish'd thing, the joy and flower Not so!-I will not bow me so, To thoughts that breathe despair ! A loftier faith we need below, Life's farewell words to bear. Mother and child!-Your tears are past Surely your hearts have met at last! THE GRAVE OF A POETESS.** "Ne me plaignez pas-si vous saviez I stood beside thy lowly grave;— And music, in the river-wave, Pass'd with a lulling sound. * Extrinsic interest has lately attached to the fine scenery of Woodstock, near Kilkenny, on account of its having been the last residence of the author of Psyche. Her grave is one of many in the church-yard of the village. The river runs smoothly by. The ruins of an ancient abbey that have been partially converted into a church, reverently throw their mantle of tender shadow over it. Tules by the O'Hara Family. |