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What tears of bitter grief till then unknown!

       What tender vows our last sad kiss delayed!

       To him we turned: — we had no other aid.

       Like one revived, upon his neck I wept,

       And her whom he had loved in joy, he said

       He well could love in grief: his faith he kept;

       And in a quiet home once more my father slept.

      Four years each day with daily bread was blest,

       By constant toil and constant prayer supplied.

       Three lovely infants lay upon my breast;

       And often, viewing their sweet smiles, I sighed,

       And knew not why. My happy father died

       When sad distress reduced the children’s meal:

       Thrice happy! that from him the grave did hide

       The empty loom, cold hearth, and silent wheel,

       And tears that flowed for ills which patience could not heal.

      ‘Twas a hard change, an evil time was come;

       We had no hope, and no relief could gain.

       But soon, with proud parade, the noisy drum

       Beat round, to sweep the streets of want and pain.

       My husband’s arms now only served to strain

       Me and his children hungering in his view:

       In such dismay my prayers and tears were vain:

       To join those miserable men he flew;

       And now to the sea-coast, with numbers more, we drew.

      There foul neglect for months and months we bore,

       Nor yet the crowded fleet its anchor stirred.

       Green fields before us and our native shore,

       By fever, from polluted air incurred,

       Ravage was made, for which no knell was heard.

       Fondly we wished, and wished away, nor knew,

       ‘Mid that long sickness, and those hopes deferr’d,

       That happier days we never more must view:

       The parting signal streamed, at last the land withdrew,

      But from delay the summer calms were past.

       On as we drove, the equinoctial deep

       Ran mountains — high before the howling blaft.

       We gazed with terror on the gloomy sleep

       Of them that perished in the whirlwind’s sweep,

       Untaught that soon such anguish must ensue,

       Our hopes such harvest of affliction reap,

       That we the mercy of the waves should rue.

       We reached the western world, a poor, devoted crew.

      Oh! dreadful price of being to resign

       All that is dear in being! better far

       In Want’s most lonely cave till death to pine,

       Unseen, unheard, unwatched by any star;

       Or in the streets and walks where proud men are,

       Better our dying bodies to obtrude,

       Than dog-like, wading at the heels of war,

       Protract a curst existence, with the brood

       That lap (their very nourishment!) their brother’s blood.

      The pains and plagues that on our heads came down,

       Disease and famine, agony and fear,

       In wood or wilderness, in camp or town,

       It would thy brain unsettle even to hear.

       All perished — all, in one remorseless year,

       Husband and children! one by one, by sword

       And ravenous plague, all perished: every tear

       Dried up, despairing, desolate, on board

       A British ship I waked, as from a trance restored.

      Peaceful as some immeasurable plain

       By the first beams of dawning light impress’d,

       In the calm sunshine slept the glittering main.

       The very ocean has its hour of rest,

       That comes not to the human mourner’s breast.

       Remote from man, and storms of mortal care,

       A heavenly silence did the waves invest;

       I looked and looked along the silent air,

       Until it seemed to bring a joy to my despair.

      Ah! how unlike those late terrific sleeps!

       And groans, that rage of racking famine spoke,

       Where looks inhuman dwelt on festering heaps!

       The breathing pestilence that rose like smoke!

       The shriek that from the distant battle broke!

       The mine’s dire earthquake, and the pallid host

       Driven by the bomb’s incessant thunder-stroke

       To loathsome vaults, where heart-sick anguish toss’d,

       Hope died, and fear itself in agony was lost!

      Yet does that burst of woe congeal my frame,

       When the dark streets appeared to heave and gape,

       While like a sea the storming army came,

       And Fire from Hell reared his gigantic shape,

       And Murder, by the ghastly gleam, and Rape

       Seized their joint prey, the mother and the child!

       But from these crazing thoughts my brain, escape!

       — For weeks the balmy air breathed soft and mild,

       And on the gliding vessel Heaven and Ocean smiled.

      Some mighty gulph of separation past,

       I seemed transported to another world: —

       A thought resigned with pain, when from the mast

       The impatient mariner the sail unfurl’d,

       And whistling, called the wind that hardly curled

       The silent sea. From the sweet thoughts of home,

       And from all hope I was forever hurled.

       For me — farthest from earthly port to roam

       Was best, could I but shun the spot where man might come.

      And oft, robb’d of my perfect mind, I thought

       At last my feet a resting-place had found:

       Here will I weep in peace, (so fancy wrought,)

       Roaming the illimitable waters round;

       Here watch, of every human friend disowned,

       All day, my ready tomb the ocean-flood —

       To break my dream the vessel reached its bound:

       And homeless near a thousand homes I stood,

       And near a thousand tables pined, and wanted food.

      By grief enfeebled was I turned adrift,

       Helpless as sailor cast on desart rock;

       Nor morsel to my mouth that day did lift,

       Nor dared my hand at any door to knock.

       I lay, where with his drowsy mates, the cock

       From the cross timber of an out-house hung;

      

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