LXXXII BABY SLEEPS. The Baby wept; The mother took it from the nurse's arms And hushed its fears, and soothed its vain alarms, And Baby slept. Again it weeps ; And God doth take it from the mother's armsFrom present griefs, and future unknown harms, And Baby sleeps. LXXXIII THE LITTLE SHROUD. She put him on a snow-white shroud, And gathered early primroses To scatter o'er the dead. She laid him in his little grave 'Twas hard to lay him there, When spring was putting forth its flowers, She had lost many children- -now The last of them was gone; And day and night she sat and wept One midnight, while her constant tears She heard a voice, and lo! her child His shroud was damp, his face was white; He said "I cannot sleep, Your tears have made my shroud so wet; Oh, mother, do not weep!" Oh, love is strong! the mother's heart Was filled with tender fears; Oh, love is strong! - and for her child Her grief restrained its tears. One eve a light shone round her bed, Her infant, in his little shroud, "Lo! mother, see my shroud is dry, And I can sleep once more!" And beautiful the parting smile And down within the silent grave And soon the early violets Grew o'er his grassy bed. The mother went her household ways- And only asked of Heaven its aid Her heavy lot to bear. L. E. LANDON. LXXXIV BERNARDO DEL CARPIO. The warrior bowed his crested head, "I bring thee here my fortress keys, I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord !— Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, Mount thy good horse, and thou and I And bounded on his steed, And lo from far, as on they pressed, With one that midst them stately rode, "Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, The father whom thy faithful heart, His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, A lowly knee to earth he bent, His father's hand he took,— What was there in its touch that all That hand was cold—a frozen thing— A plume waved o'er the noble brow— Up from the ground he sprang, and gazed, They hushed their very hearts, that saw They might have chained him, as before For the power was stricken from his arm, "Father at length he murmured low, And wept like childhood then- Then covering with his steel-gloved hands My king is false, my hope betrayed, The glory and the loveliness, Are passed away from earth! Then, starting from the ground once more, Of all the courtier train; And with a fierce o'ermastering grasp The rearing war-horse led, And sternly set them face to face The king before the dead! |