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Margaret, at nearer sight,
All that she had done for them,
But sweet Mary, still the same, Kindly eased them of their shame; Spoke to them with accents bland, Took them friendly by the hand; Bound them both with promise fast, Not to speak of troubles past; Made them on the spot declare A new league of friendship there; Which, without a word of strife, Lasted thenceforth long as life. Martha now and Margaret Strove who most should pay the debt Which they owed her, nor did vary Ever after from their Mary.
TO CHARLES LLOYD.
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.
ALONE, obscure, without a friend,
A cheerless, solitary thing, Why seeks, my Lloyd, the stranger out?
What offering can the stranger bring?
Of social scenes, home-bred delights,
That him in aught compensate may For Stowey's pleasant winter nights,
For loves and friendships far away?
In brief oblivion to forego
Friends, such as thine, so justly dear, And be awhile with me content
To stay, a kindly loiterer, here:
For this a gleam of random joy
Hath flushed my unaccustomed cheek; And, with an o'ercharged bursting heart,
I feel the thanks I cannot speak.
Oh! sweet are all the Muses' lays,
And sweet the charm of matin bird ; 'Twas long since these estranged ears
The sweeter voice of friend had heard.
The voice hath spoke; the pleasant sounds
In memory's ear in after time Shall live, to sometimes rouse a tear,
And sometimes prompt an honest rhyme.
For, when the transient charm is fled,
And when the little week is o'er,
To cheerless, friendless, solitude
When I return, as heretofore;
Long, long, within my aching heart
The grateful sense shall cherish'd be; I'll think less meanly of myself,
That Lloyd will sometimes think on me.
WHEN maidens such as Hester die,
With vain endeavour.
A month or more hath she been dead,
And her together.
A springy motion in her gait,
That flushed her spirit.
I know not by what name beside
She did inherit.
Her parents held the Quaker rule, Which doth the human feeling cool, But she was trained in Nature's school,
Nature had blest her.
A waking eye, a prying mind,
Ye could not Hester.
My sprightly neighbour! gone before To that unknown and silent shore, Shall we not meet, as heretofore,
Some summer morning,
When from thy cheerful eyes a ray
A sweet fore-warning ?