THE FOSTER MOTHER'S TALE.

9

But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet,
The late Lord Valdez ne'er was wearied with him.
And once, as by the north side of the chapel
They stood together chained in deep discourse,
The earth heaved under them with such a groan,
That the wall tottered, and had well nigh fallen
Right on their heads. My Lord was sorely fright-
ened;

A fever seized him, and he made confession
Of all the heretical and lawless talk

Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seized,

And cast into that hole. My husband's father
Sobbed like a child-it almost broke his heart:
And once as he was working near this dungeon,
He heard a voice distinctly; 'twas the youth's,
Who sung a doleful song about green fields,
How sweet it were on lake or wide savanna
To hunt for food, and be a naked man,
And wander up and down at liberty.
He always doted on the youth, and now
His love grew desperate; and defying death,
He made that cunning entrance I described,
And the young man escaped.

'Tis a sweet tale:

Ter.
Such as would lull a listening child to sleep,
His rosy face besoiled with unwiped tears.
And what became of him?

Sel.

He went on shipboard

With those bold voyagers who made discovery

Of golden lands. Sesina's younger brother
Went likewise, and when he returned to Spain,
He told Sesina, that the poor mad youth,
Soon after they arrived in that new world,
In spite of his dissuasion, seized a boat,
And all alone set sail by silent moonlight
Up a great river, great as any sea,

And ne'er was heard of more: but 'tis supposed,
He lived and died among the savage men.

SONNET.

COMPOSED ON A JOURNEY HOMEWARD; THE AUTHOR HAVING RECEIVED INTELLIGENCE

OF THE BIRTH OF A SON,

SEPT. 20, 1796.

OFT o'er my brain does that strange fancy roll Which makes the present (while the flash doth last)

Secm a mere semblance of some unknown past, Mixed with such feelings as perplex the soul Self-questioned in her sleep; and some have said We lived, ere yet this robe of flesh we wore.* O my sweet baby! when I reach my door, If heavy looks should tell me thou art dead, (As sometimes, through excess of hope, I fear,) I think that I should struggle to believe

Thou wert a spirit, to this nether sphere Sentenced for some more venial crime to grieve; Did'st scream, then spring to meet Heaven's quick reprieve,

While we wept idly o'er thy little bier!

* Ην που ἡμῶν ἡ ψύχη πρὶν ἐν τῷδε τῷ ἀνθρωπίνῳ εἶδει yevéoval.-Plat. in Phædon.

.

SONNET.

TO A FRIEND WHO ASKED, HOW I FELT WHEN
THE NURSE FIRST PRESENTED MY

INFANT TO ME.

CHARLES! my slow heart was only sad, when first
I scanned that face of feeble infancy:
For dimly on my thoughtful spirit burst
All I had been, and all my child might be !
But when I saw it on its mother's arm,

And hanging at her bosom (she the while
Bent o'er its features with a tearful smile)
Then I was thrilled and melted, and most warm
Impressed a father's kiss: and all beguiled
Of dark remembrance and presageful fear,
I seemed to see an angel-form appear—
'Twas even thine, beloved woman mild!

So for the mother's sake the child was dear,
And dearer was the mother for the child.

TELL'S BIRTH-PLACE.

IMITATED FROM STOLBERG.

I.

MARK this holy chapel well!

The birth-place, this, of William Tell.
Here, where stands God's altar dread,
Stood his parents' marriage-bed.

II.

Here, first, an infant to her breast,

Him his loving mother prest;

And kissed the babe, and blessed the day,
And prayed as mothers use to pray.

III.

"Vouchsafe him health, O God! and give

The child thy servant still to live!"

But God had destined to do more

Through him, than through an armed power.

IV.

God gave him reverence of laws,

Yet stirring blood in Freedom's cause-
A spirit to his rocks akin,

The eye of the hawk, and the fire therein!