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TO A FRIEND WHO As KED, How I FELT when th E NU RSE FIRST PRESENTED MY INFANT TO ME.
CHARLEs my slow heart was only sad, when first
I scanned that face of feeble infancy:
For dimly on my thoughtful spirit burst
All I had been, and all my child might be
But when I saw it on its Mother's arm,
And hanging at her bosom (she the while
Bent o'er its features with a tearful smile)
Then I was thrilled and melted, and most warm
Impressed a Father's kiss: and all beguiled
Of dark remembrance and presageful fear,
I seemed to see an angel-form appear—
"Twas even thine, beloved woman mild !
So for the Mother’s sake the Child was dear,
And dearer was the Mother for the Child.
THE VIRGIN'S CRADLE-HYMN.
coPIED FROM A PRINT OF THE VIRGIN, IN A CATHOLIC VILLAGE IN GERMANY.
DoRM1, Jesu! Mater ridet,
Quae tam dulcem somnum videt,
Dormi, Jesu ! blandule !
Sinon dormis, Mater plorat,
Inter fila cantans orat
Blande, veni, somnule.
Sleep, sweet babel my cares beguiling:
Mother sits beside thee smiling:
Sleep, my darling, tenderly
If thou sleep not, mother mourneth,
Singing as her wheel she turneth:
Come, soft slumber, balmily!
Its balmy lips the Infant blest Relaxing from its Mother's breast, How sweet it heaves the happy sigh Of innocent Satiety
And such my Infant's latest sigh!
O tell, rude stone : the passer by,
That here the pretty babe doth lie,
Death sang to sleep with Lullaby.
St Retch'd on a mouldered Abbey's broadest wall,
Where ruining ivies propped the ruins steep—
Her folded arms wrapping her tattered pall,
Had MELAN choly mus'd herself to sleep.
The fern was press'd beneath her hair,
The dark green Adder's Tongue" was there;
And still as past the flagging sea-gale weak,
The long lank leaf bowed fluttering o'er her cheek.
That pallid cheek was flushed: her eager look
Beamed eloquent in slumber 1 Inly wrought,
Imperfect sounds her moving lips forsook, And her bent foreheadworked with troubled thought. Strange was the dream
* A botanical mistake. The plant which the poet here describes is called the Hart's Tongue.
I. MARK this holy chapel well! The Birth-place, this, of WILLIAM TELL. Here, where stands God's altar dread, Stood his parents' marriage-bed.
Here first, an infant to her breast,
Him his loving mother prest;
And kissed the babe, and blessed the day,
And prayed as mothers use to pray.
“Vouchsafe him health, O God! and give
The Child thy servant still to live s”
But God had destined to do more
Through him, than through an armed power.