Margaret, at nearer sight, Mary's sweetness-Mary's grace. When her eye did first behold them, How they blush'd !-but, when she told them,, How on a sick bed she lay Months, while they had kept away, And had no inquiries made Of their coming, had extended The illness, when she might have mended,— Then, O then, how did reflection Come on them with recollection! All that she had done for them, But sweet Mary, still the same, Kindly eas'd 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 ow'd her, nor did vary Ever after from their Mary. TO A RIVER IN WHICH A CHILD WAS DROWNED. SMILING river, smiling river, On thy bosom sun-beams play; In thy channel, in thy channel, Deep immersed, and unhearsed, Lies young Edward's corse: his bones Ever whitening, ever whitening, As if senseless, as if senseless It destroy'd, it now does grace. THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES. I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days, All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I have been laughing, I have been carousing, Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies, All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I loved a love once, fairest among women ; Closed are her doors on me, I must not see herAll, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man; Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood. Earth seemed a desart I was bound to traverse, Seeking to find the old familiar faces. |