THE twentieth year is well-nigh past Since first our sky was overcast, Ah, would that this might be the last! My Mary! Thy spirits have a fainter flow, I see thee daily weaker grow— ’Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary! Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust disused, and shine no more, My Mary! For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil The same kind office for me still, Thy sight now seconds not thy will, My Mary! But well thou playedst the housewife’s part, And all thy threads with magic art Have wound themselves about this heart, My Mary! Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language uttered in a dream; Yet me they charm, whate’er the theme, My Mary! Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary! For could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary! Such feebleness of limbs thou prov’st, That now at every step thou mov’st Upheld by two, yet still thou lov’st, My Mary! And still to love, though prest with ill, In wintry age to feel no chill, With me, is to be lovely still, My Mary! But ah! by constant heed I know, How oft the sadness that I show, Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe, My Mary! And should my future lot be cast With much resemblance of the past, Thy worn-out heart will break at last, My Mary! FOOTNOTES. {127} The author hopes that he shall not be censured for unnecessary warmth upon so interesting a subject. He is aware that it is become almost fashionable to stigmatise such sentiments as no better than empty declamation. But it is an ill symptom, and peculiar to modern times.—C. {170} Nebaioth and Kedar, the sons of Ishmael, and progenitors of the Arabs, in the prophetic scripture here alluded to may be reasonably considered as representatives of the Gentiles at large.—C.