And then thou'lt wish, as I do now, Thy hand my humble bed had smooth'd, Wip'd the chill moisture off my brow, And all the wants of sickness sooth'd. For, oh! the means to sooth my pain And thou wilt wish, ah! wish in vain, Thou'lt wish, with keen repentance wrung, I'd clos'd my eyes upon thy breast, Expiring, while thy falt'ring tongue Pardon in kindest tones express'd. O sounds which I must never hear! Thy love alone I call to mind, And all thy past disdain forget,Each keen reproach, each frown unkind, That crush'd my hopes when last we met. But when I saw that angry brow, Both health and youth were still my own ; O mother! could'st thou see me now, Thou would'st not have the heart to frown. But see! my orphan's cheek displays So fondly charm'd thy partial eyes. Grief o'er her bloom a veil now draws, Grief her lov'd parent's pangs to see; And when thou think'st upon the cause, That paleness will have charms for thee. And thou wilt fondly press that cheek, But wilt thou thus indulgent be? And must she suffer for my crime? Mrs. Opie. A WISH. THRO groves sequester'd, dark, and still, Low vales, and mossy cells among, 1 In silent paths, the nameless rill · Awhile it plays with circling sweep, O! let my years thus devious glide When labour tires, and pleasure palls, Dr. Hawksworth. THE SAILOR BOY. Written by Mr. Bowden, of Frome, Somersetshire, on accompanying his Son who was to embark on board the Triton. CALM was the sea, the sky was fair, I saw the Triton's flowing sail. In gallant trim she plough'd the waves, Prostrate upon the ground I fell, My bosom full of hope and fear, Oh! thou great Ruler of the skies, From ev'ry harm, by sea and land, Oh! guard my little Sailor Boy. When tempests rattle o'er the main, And even seamen shrink with dread, May some commission'd cherub shield And guard his unprotected head. He was the first born of my sons, His father's hope, his mother's joy, Oh! to their fond and anxious arms Restore their much-lov'd Sailor Boy. In battle may he win the day, And ride triumphant o'er the waves, Fight gallantly in freedom's cause, But never, never league with slaves. And when the glorious day is won, And shouts of vict'ry rend the sky, When high in air the streamers float, And British flags triumphant fly; Oh! then, when Neptune's sons exult, And ev'ry heart beats high with joy, In safety to his native shore Bring back my conq'ring Sailor Boy. |