"His death, his sorrows are the heavy curse That hangs above my poor, distracted head! His dying words have scatter'd vain remorse, For vain, though bitter, are the tears I shed. "And yet my father to my soul was dear, But tender pity was on Henry's side; I painted him relenting, not severe, Nor fancied I could be an orphan bride. "Ah me! excuses will not cure my pain! At least, forgetfulness can little plead. A widow'd parent!--I deserv'd disdain, 'Tis fit these eyes should weep, this heart should bleed! "But yet assist me heaven! to hide my grief, My waning health from love's suspicious eyes! This malady admits of no relief, And nought augments the pain, but Henry's sighs. "Perhaps e'en now he wonders at my stay, Sees the white fogs of evening rise around, Comes out to seek me in my devious way, But turns not to this unfrequented ground. "Alas! my love, thy anxious care is vain! Nothing can stop yon wand'rer of the sky; Nothing can long this fleeting life retain! For oh! I feel that I must shortly die. "But cease my lute, this low, desponding strain, It floats too long upon the heavy air; Henry may pass and know that I complain. One moment's peace to him is worth my care." She said, and toward the cheerless mansion flew, Her slender, sylph-like form array'd in white, Not clearly seen amidst surrounding dew, Seem'd like a spirit ling'ring in its flight. Poor Henry, who had watch'd her in the shade, In aching silence list'ning to her song, At distance follow'd slowly through the glade, Pausing forgetful as he pass'd along. * * * * * YOUTH UNSUSPICIOUS OF EVIL. O bend thy head, sweet morning flow'r! And look not up so fresh and bright! The keen, harsh wind, the heavy show'r, Will spoil thy beauties ere the night. I grieve to see thee look so gay. And so unconscious of thy lot, For gloom and tempests wait thy day, And thou, unhappy, fear'st it not! Thy tender leaflets all unfold, Their colours ripen and refine, Become most lovely to behold, And, ah! most apt to shrink and pine. Then, bend thy head, sweet morning flow'r! I grieve to see thee look so gay! Close thy soft wings against the show'r, And wait a more auspicious day! * * * * * THE MOTHER. "And beats my heart again with joy! And dances now my spirit light! The skiff that holds my darling boy This moment burst upon my sight! "Not yet distinctly I perceive Amid the crew his well-known form, But still his safety I believe, I know he has escap'd the storm. "I feel as if my heart had wings, And tender from excess of bliss, His form, which airy fancy brings, In fond emotion seem to kiss.