Giants and genii claim'd each wondering ear; Oft, fancy led, at midnight's fearful hour With startling step we scal'd the lonely tower; O'er infant innocence to hang and weep, Murder'd by ruffian hands, when smiling in its sleep. As o'er the dusky furniture I bend, Each chair awakes the feelings of a friend. The storied arras, source of fond delight, With old achievements charms the wilder'd sight; The massive beam, with curious carving wrought, Those once-lov'd forms, still breathing thro' their dust; MOTHER AND CHILD. THE day arrives, the moment wish'd and fear'd: Oh! grant the cherub to her Her by her smile how soon the Stranger knows ; How soon by his the glad discovery shows! As to her lips she lifts the lovely boy, What answering looks of sympathy and joy! When rosy Sleep comes on with sweet surprise. But soon a nobler task demands her care, Oh, he would follow-follow through the sky! If now he wears the habit of a man, Flings off the coat so much his pride and pleasure. His tiny spade in his own garden plies, Where'er he goes, for ever in her sight, She looks, and looks, and still with new delight. AMELIA OPIE. THE ORPHAN BOY'S TALE. STAY, Lady, stay, for mercy's sake, And my brave father's hope and joy; Poor foolish child! how pleased was I, And see the lighted windows flame! The people's shouts were long and loud, 66 My mother, shudd'ring, closed her ears; Rejoice! rejoice!" still cried the crowd, My mother answer'd with her tears. "Why are you crying thus," said I, "While others laugh and shout with joy?" She kiss'd me-and, with such a sigh! She call'd me her poor orphan boy. |