Here, little Darling, dost thou lie; An Infant Thou, a Mother I ! Mine wilt thou be, thou hast no fears; Mine art thou spite of these my tears. My Baby and its dwelling-place; Be shed upon an Infant's face, It was unlucky' — no, no, no ; My own dear Little-one will sigh, I should behold his face again! - and then "Tis gone like dreams that we forget; There was a smile or two—yet — yet I can remember them, I see The smiles, worth all the world to me. Thou troublest me with strange alarms; I cannot keep thee in my arms, Oh how I love thee! we will stay My Sister's Child, who bears my name, What thou art! though I love her well: I've none, my pretty Innocent! I weep I know they do thee wrong, These tears - and my poor idle tongue. Oh, what a kiss was that! my cheek How cold it is! but thou art good; While thou art mine, my little Love, Here's grass to play with, here are flowers; Thou hast, I think, a look of ours, Thy features seem to me the same; And, when once more my home I see, I'll tell him many tales of Thee." XXVII. VAUDRACOUR AND JULIA. The following tale was written as an Episode, in a work from which its length may perhaps exclude it. The facts are true; no invention as to these has been exercised, as none was needed. O HAPPY time of youthful lovers, (thus In which a love-knot on a lady's brow Is fairer than the fairest star in heaven! With answering vows. Plebeian was the stock, Plebeian, though ingenuous, the stock, From which her graces and her honours sprung: Of sea-fowl, conscious both that they are hovering Within the eddy of a common blast, Or hidden only by the concave depth Of neighbouring billows from each other's sight. Thus, not without concurrence of an age Unknown to memory, was an earnest given, By ready nature, for a life of love, . For endless constancy, and placid truth; Of their maturer years, Was under fascination; his - present mind he beheld |