They're gone! they're gone! the glimmering spark hath
The wife and child are number'd with the dead!
On the cold hearth, outstretched in solemn rest,
The child lies frozen on its mother's breast!
The gambler came at last, but all was o'er,
Dead silence reign'd around-the clock struck four.
MARY AND LADY MARY;
OR, NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOURS.
(By permission of the Author.)
THE Lady Mary's placid eyes
Beam with no hopes, no memories;
Beneath their lids no tear-drops flow
For love or pity, joy or woe.
She never knows, too barren she,
The fruitfulness of sympathy;
She never weeps for others' pain,
Or smiles, except in her disdain.
Her face is pallid as the pearl,
Her hair is sleek, without a curl;
With finger-tip she condescends
To touch the fingers of her friends,
As if she feared their palms might brand
Some moral stigma on her hand;
Her pulse is calm, milk-white her skin,
She hath not blood enough to sin.
A very pattern, sage and staid,
Of all her sex-a model maid:
Clear star, bright paragon of men,
She breaks no law of all the ten;
Pure to the sight as snow-peak'd hill—
As inaccessible and chill ;
In sunshine-but repelling heat-
And freezing in her own conceit.
If ever known to breathe a sigh,
It was for lack of flattery.
Though cold, insensible, and dull,
Admirers call her beautiful.
She sucks their incense, breathes it, doats
On her own praise, that gently floats
On Fashion's wave, and lies in wait
To catch admirers of her state.
In published charities her name
Stands foremost, for she buys her fame;
At church men see her thrice a-week,
In spirit proud, in aspect meek;
Wearing devotion like a mask
So marble cold, that sinners ask,
Beholding her at Mercy's throne,
"Is this a woman or a stone?"
But different, far, the little maid
That dwells, unnoticed, in the shade
Of Lady Mary's pomp and power;
A Mary, too, a simple flower,
With face all health, with cheeks all smile,
Undarkened by one cloud of guile;
And ruddy lips that seem to say,
"Come, kiss me, children, while ye may."
A cordial hand, a chubby arm,
And hazel eyes, large, soft, and warm;
Dark hair in curls, a snow-like bust,
A look all innocence, all trust,
Lit up at times by sunny mirth,
Like summer smiling on the earth;
A ringing laugh, whose every note
Bursts in clear music from her throat.
A painter's daughter, poor, perchance,
But rich in native elegance.
God bless the maid--she may not be
Without some touch of vanity :
She twines red rosebuds in her hair,
And smiles to know herself so fair;
And quite believes, like other belles,
The pleasant tale her mirror tells.
SEEING'S NOT BELIEVING.
A very woman, full of tears,
Hopes, blushes, tendernesses, fears,
Griefs, laughter, kindness, joys and sighs,
Loves, likings, friendships, sympathies;
A heart to feel for every woe,
And pity, if not dole, bestow;
A hand to give from scanty store,
A look to wish the offering more.
In artless faith and virtue strong,
Too loving to do Love a wrong!
She takes delight in simple things,
And in the sunshine works and sings,
Sweet bird! so meekly innocent,
The foulest hawk that ever rent
A trusting heart, would gaze, and fly,
And spare her in her purity.
Take Lady Mary ye who will,
Her woods, her castle on the hill,
Her lands o'er half a county spread,
And wither in her loveless bed;
But give me Mary, frank and free,
Her beauty, grace, and modesty :
I pass my Lady in the mart-
I take the Woman with the heart.
I SAW her, as I fancied, fair,
Yes, fairest of earth's creatures;
I saw the purest red and white
O'erspread her lovely features;
She fainted, and I sprinkled her,
Her malady relieving :
I washed both rose and lily off!
Oh! seeing's not believing!
SEEING'S NOT BELIEVING.
I looked again, again I longed
To breathe love's fond confession;
I saw her eyebrows formed to give
Her face its arch expression;
But gum is very apt to crack,
And whilst my breast was heaving,
It so fell out that one fell off!
Oh! seeing's not believing!
I saw the tresses on her brow
So beautifully braided;
never saw in all my life
Locks look so well as they did.
She walked with me one windy day-
Ye zephyrs, why so thieving?
The lady lost her flaxen wig!
Oh! seeing's not believing!
I saw her form, by Nature's hand
So prodigally finished,
She were less perfect if enlarged,
Less perfect if diminished;
Her toilet I surprised-the worst
Of wonders then achieving;
None knew the bustle I perceived!
Oh! seeing's not believing!
I saw, when costly gems I gave,
The smile with which she took them; And if she said no tender things,
I've often seen her look them;
I saw her my affianced bride,
And then, my mansion leaving,
She ran away with Colonel Jones!
Oh! seeing's not believing!
I saw another maiden soon,
And struggled to detain her;
I saw her plain enough-in fact,
Few women could be plainer;
'Twas said, that at her father's death
A plum she'd be receiving:
I saw that father's house and grounds!
Oh! seeing's not believing!
I saw her mother-she was deck'd
With furbelows and feathers;
I saw distinctly that she wore
Silk stockings in all weathers;
I saw, beneath a load of gems,
The matron's bosom heaving;
I saw a thousand signs of wealth!
Oh! seeing's not believing!
I saw her father, and I spoke
Of marriage in his study;
But would he let her marry me?
Alas! alas! how could he?
I saw him smile a glad consent,
My anxious heart relieving,
And then I saw the settlements:
Oh! seeing's not believing!
I saw the daughter, and I named
My moderate finances;
She spurned me not, she gave me one
Of her most tender glances.
I saw her father's bank-thought I,
There cash is safe from thieving;
I saw my money safely lodged:
Oh! seeing's not believing!
I saw the bank, the shutters up,
I could not think what that meant,
The old infirmity of firms,
The bank had just stopped payment!
I saw my future father then
Was ruined past retrieving,
Like me, without a single sous:
Oh! seeing's not believing!
I saw the banker's wife had got
The fortune settled on her;
What cared he, when the creditors
Talked loudly of dishonour?
I saw his name in the Gazette,
But soon I stared, perceiving,
He bought another house and grounds:
Oh! seeing's not believing!
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