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: 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. The elder sister strove her pangs to hide, And soothing words to younger minds applied'. "Be still, be patient;" oft she strove to stay; 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 woe. Arrived at home, how then they gazed around On every place--where she no more was found; - The seat at table she was wont to fill; The fire-side chair, still set, but vacant still; The garden-walks, a labour all her own; The latticed bower, with trailing shrubs o'ergrown, The Sunday-pew she fill'd with all her race, - Each place of hers, was now a sacred place That, while it call'd up sorrows in the eyes, Pierced the full heart and forced them still to rise. Oh sacred sorrow! by whom souls are tried, Sent not to punish mortals, but to guide; If thou art mine (and who shall proudly dare To tell his Maker, he has had a share!) Still let me feel for what thy pangs are sent, And be my guide, and not my punishment! Of Leah Cousins next the name appears, With honours crown'd and blest with length of years, Save that she lived to feel, in life's decay, The pleasure die, the honours drop away; A matron she, whom every village-wife View'd as the help and guardian of her life, Fathers and sons, indebted to her aid, Respect to her and her profession paid; Who in the house of plenty largely fed, Yet took her station at the pauper's bed; Nor from that duty could be bribed again, While fear or danger urged her to remain: In her experience all her friends relied. Heaven was her help and nature was her guide. Thus Leah lived; long trusted, much caress'd, Till a Town-Dame a youthful farmer bless'd; A gay vain bride, who would example give To that poor village where she deign'd to live; Some few months past, she sent, in hour of need, For Doctor Glibb, who came with wond'rous speed, Two days he waited, all his art applied, To save the mother when her infant died: - "'Twas well I came," at last he deign'd to say; "'Twas wondrous well;"--and proudly rode away. The news ran round;--"How vast the Doctor's pow'r!" He saved the Lady in the trying hour; Saved her from death, when she was dead to hope, And her fond husband had resign'd her up: