I sold a sheep as they had said, And bought my little children bread, And they were healthy with their food; A woeful time it was for me, To see the end of all my gains, The pretty flock which I had reared With all my care and pains, To see it melt like snow away! Another still! and still another! A little lamb, and then its mother! It was a vein that never stopp'd, Like blood-drops from my heart they dropp'd. Till thirty were not left alive They dwindled, dwindled, one by one, And I may say that many a time I wished they all were gone: For me it was a woeful day. To wicked deeds I was inclined, And wicked fancies cross'd my mind, I went my work about. Oft-times I thought to run away; Sir! 'twas a precious flock to me, They dwindled, Sir, sad sight to see! From ten to five, from five to three, A lamb, a weather, and a ewe; And then at last, from three to two; And of my fifty, yesterday I had but only one, And here it lies upon my arm, Alas! and I have none; To-day I fetched it from the rock; It is the last of all my flock." THE DUNGEON. C. AND this place our forefathers made for man! And stagnate and corrupt; till changed to poison, spot; Then we call in our pamper'd mountebanks-- And this is their best cure! uncomforted And friendless solitude, groaning and tears, And savage faces, at the clanking hour Seen through the steams and vapour of his dungeon, By the lamp's dismal twilight! So he lies Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deformed น. 2 With other ministrations thou, O nature! Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets, By the benignant touch of love and beauty. |