They were wedded. ’Twas a wedding That had far and nigh renown, And from morning until even Rang the bells of London town. Time went on: the good, old merchant Wore a cloud upon his brow: “Wherefore this?” his friends addressed him, “No man should be blithe as thou!” “In my old age I am lonely,” Said the merchant; “she is gone;— And young Burnell, he I nurtured, He who was to me a son; “He has left me!—I’m deserted— E’en an old man feels such woe! ’Twas but natural _she_ should marry, But _he_ should not have served me so? “’Twas not that which I expected!— He was very dear to me,— And I thought no London merchant Would have stood as high as he! “He grew very strange and moody, What the cause I cannot say;— And he left me when my daughter, My poor Alice went away! “This I felt a sore unkindness;— Youth thinks little, feels still less!— Burnell should have stayed beside me, Stayed to cheer my loneliness! “I had been a father to him, He to me was like a son; Young folks should have more reflection,— ’Twas what _I_ could not have done! “True, he writes me duteous letters; Calls me father, tells me all That in foreign parts are doing:— But young people write so small, “That I’m often forced to leave them, Pleasant letters though they be, Until Alice comes from Richmond, Then she reads them out to me. “Alice fain would have me with her; Leonard well deserves my praise— But he’s not my Richard Burnell, Knows not my old wants and ways! “No, my friends, I’ll not deny it, It has cut me to the heart, That the son of my adoption Thus has played a cruel part!” So the merchant mourned and murmured; And all foreign charms unheeding, Dwelt the lonely Richard Burnell, With his bruiséd heart still bleeding. · · · · · Time went on, and in the spring-tide, When the birds begun to build, And the heart of all creation With a vast delight was filled. Came a letter unto Alice— Then a babe lay on her breast— ’Twas the first which Richard Burnell Unto Alice had addressed.