Each ready with a plaintive whine! Said I, "Not half an hour ago Your Mother has had alms of mine." “That cannot be," one answered, "she is dead": I looked reproof, — they saw, but neither hung his head. "She has been dead, Sir, many a day.”. "Hush, boys! you 're telling me a lie; It was your Mother, as I say!" And, in the twinkling of an eye, "Come! come!" cried one, and, without more ado, Off to some other play the joyous Vagrants flew ! 1802. XIX. SEQUEL TO THE FOREGOING. COMPOSED MANY YEARS AFTER. WHERE are they now, those wanton Boys? For whose free range the dædal earth Was filled with animated toys, More fresh, more bright, than princes wear; For what one moment flung aside, Another could repair: What good or evil have they seen They met me in a genial hour, Of discontent, and check the birth Of thoughts with better thoughts at strife, Since parting Innocence bequeathed Soft clouds, the whitest of the year, Sailed through the sky; the brooks ran clear; The lambs from rock to rock were bounding; With songs the budded groves resounding; And to my heart are still endeared The thoughts with which it then was cheered; Walk through the fire with unsinged hair. Associates in that eager chase, - Ye who within the blameless mind Your favorite seat of empire find, – Kind Spirits! may we not believe Destined, whate'er their earthly doom, 1817. XX. GYPSIES. YET are they here, the same unbroken knot Only their fire seems bolder, yielding light, Their bed of straw and blanket-walls. Twelve hours, twelve bounteous hours are gone, while I Have been a traveller under open sky, Much witnessing of change and cheer, The weary Sun betook himself to rest; Outshining like a visible God The glorious path in which he troȧ, And now, ascending, after one dark hour And one night's diminution of her power, Behold the mighty Moon! this way She looks as if at them, -but they Regard not her. O better wrong and strife (By nature transient) than this torpid life, – Life which the very stars reprove, As on their silent tasks they move! Yet, witness all that stirs in heaven or earth! And breeding suffer them to be; Wild outcasts of society! XXI. RUTH. WHEN Ruth was left half desolate, 1807. And she had made a pipe of straw, Beneath her father's roof, alone She seemed to live; her thoughts her own; Herself her own delight; Pleased with herself, nor sad, nor gay; And, passing thus the livelong day, She grew to woman's height. There came a Youth from Georgia's shore,— A military casque he wore, With splendid feathers drest; He brought them from the Cherokees; The feathers nodded in the breeze, And made a gallant crest. From Indian blood you deem him sprung: But no! he spake the English tongue, And bore a soldier's name; And, when America was free From battle and from jeopardy, He 'cross the ocean came. With hues of genius on his cheek, In finest tones the Youth could speak: |