Fed for the field, although each day's a feast, _Fatten_ you may, but never _tame_ the beast; A house protects him, savoury viands sustain; But loose his neck and off he goes again: So stole our vagrant from his warm retreat, To rove a prowler and be deem'd a cheat. Hard was his fare; for, him at length we saw, In cart convey'd and laid supine on straw. 570 His feeble voice now spoke a sinking heart; His groans now told the motions of the cart; And when it stopp'd, he tried in vain to stand; Closed was his eye, and clench'd his clammy hand; Life ebb'd apace, and our best aid no more Could his weak sense or dying heart restore: But now he fell, a victim to the snare, That vile attorneys for the weak prepare-- They who, when profit or resentment call, Heed not the groaning victim they enthrall. 580 Then died lamented, in the strength of life, A valued Mother and a faithful Wife; Call'd not away, when time had loosed each hold On the fond heart, and each desire grew cold; But when, to all that knit us to our kind, She felt fast-bound, as charity can bind-- Not, when the ills of age, its pain, its care, The drooping spirit for its fate prepare; And each affection, failing, leaves the heart Loosed from life's charm and willing to depart-- 590 But all her ties the strong invader broke, In all their strength, by one tremendous stroke! Sudden and swift the eager pest came on, And terror grew, till every hope was gone; Still those around appear'd for hope to seek! But view'd the sick, and were afraid to speak.-- Slowly they bore, with solemn step, the dead; When grief grew loud and bitter tears were shed, My part began; a crowd drew near the place, Awe in each eye, alarm in every face: 600 So swift the ill, and of so fierce a kind, That fear with pity mingled in each mind; Friends with the husband came their griefs to blend; For good-man Frankford was to all a friend. The last-born boy they held above the bier; He knew not grief, but cries express'd his fear; Each different age and sex reveal'd its pain, In now a louder, now a lower strain; While the meek father, listening to their tones, Swell'd the full cadence of the grief by groans. 610 The elder sister strove her pangs to hide, And soothing words to younger minds applied "Be still, be patient," oft she strove to say; But fail'd as oft, and weeping turn'd away. Curious and sad, upon the fresh-dug hill, The village-lads stood melancholy still; And idle children, wandering to-and-fro, As Nature guided, took the tone of wo. Arrived at home, how then they gazed around, In every place--where she no more was found; 620 The seat at table she was wont to fill; The fire-side chair, still set, but vacant still;