"Dear Babe, thou Daughter of another, And sure a Mother's heart is mine: Thy own dear Mother's far away, Thy little Sister is at play; What warmth, what comfort would it yield To my poor heart, if Thou would'st be One little hour a child to me! Across the waters I am come, For thee, sweet Baby! — thou hast tried, Thou know'st the pillow of my breast; Good, good art thou; alas! to me Far more than I can be to thee. Here, little Darling, dost thou lie ; An Infant Thou, a Mother I! Mine wilt thou be, thou hast no fears; Mine art thou spite of these my tears. Alas! before I left the spot, My Baby and its dwelling-place; The Nurse said to me, Tears should not Be shed upon an Infant's face, It was unlucky' no, no, no; No truth is in them who say so! My own dear Little-one will sigh, Oh! had he but thy cheerful smiles, I can remember them, I see The smiles, worth all the world to me. Thou troublest me with strange alarms; I cannot keep thee in my arms, Oh! how I love thee! we will stay My Sister's Child, who bears my name, What thou art! though I love her well: I've none, my pretty Innocent! I know they do thee wrong, I weep These tears and my poor idle tongue. Oh, what a kiss was that! my cheek How cold it is! but thou art good; Thine eyes are on me they would speak, I think, to help me if they could. Blessings upon that soft, warm face, While thou art mine, my little Love, Here's grass to play with, here are flowers; Thou hast, I think, a look of ours, Thy features seem to me the same; His little Sister thou shalt be: And, when once more my home I see, I'll tell him many tales of Thee." XXVII. VAUDRACOUR AND JULIA. The following tale was written as an Episode, in a work from which its length may perhaps exclude it. The facts are true; no invention as to these has been exercised, as none was needed. O HAPPY time of youthful lovers, (thus In which a love-knot on a lady's brow Is fairer than the fairest star in heaven! (Fancy that sports more desperately with minds With answering vows. Plebeian was the stock, |