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THE WIDOWED MOTHER.
Beside her babe, who sweetly slept,
And as the sobs thick-gathering came, She murmured her dead husband's name 'Mid that sad lullaby.
Well might that lullaby be sad,
On this cold-hearted earth;
Stedfastly as a star doth look
She gazed upon the bosom
While thus she sat- -a sunbeam broke
And from his cradle smiled!
Ah me! what kindling smiles met there!
With joy fresh-sprung from short alarms,
And to her bosom leapt―
All tears at once were swept away,
Sufferings there are from nature sprung,
But this as holy writ is sure,
The griefs she bids us here endure,
THE MARINER'S DREAM.
In slumbers of midnight the sailor boy lay,
His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind: But, watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away, And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind.
He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers,
Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide,
And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise ;Now far, far behind him the green waters glide, And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes.
The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch,
All trembling with transport, he raises the latch,
And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.
A father bends o'er him with looks of delight;
His cheek is bedewed with a mother's warm tear; And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite
With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.
The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast,
Ah! whence is that flame which now glares on his eye? Ah! what is that sound which now bursts on bis ear ? 'Tis the lightning's red gleam, painting hell on the sky! 'Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere!
He springs from his hammock, he flies to the deck,—
Like mountains the billows tremendously swell-
And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave!
Oh! sailor boy, woe to thy dream of delight!
In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of blissWhere now is the picture that fancy touched bright, Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honied kiss?
Oh, sailor boy! sailor boy! never again
Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay; Unblessed, and unhonoured, down deep in the main Full many a fathom, thy frame shall decay.
No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,
On a bed of sea-green flower thy limbs shall be laid,
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow, Of thy fair yellow locks, threads of amber be made, And every part suit to thy mansion below.
Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away,