XX. THE CHILDLESS FATHER. "UP, Timothy, up with your Staff and away! -Of coats and of jackets gray, scarlet, and green, On the slopes of the pastures all colours were seen; With their comely blue aprons, and caps white as snow, The girls on the hills made a holiday show. The bason had offered *, just six months before, * In several parts of the North of England, when a funeral takes place, a bason full of Sprigs of Box-wood is placed at the door of the house from which the Coffin is taken up, and each person who attends the funeral ordinarily takes a Sprig of this Box-wood, and throws it into the grave of the deceased. Now fast Old Timothy took up his staff, and he shut Perhaps to himself at that moment he said, XXI. THE EMIGRANT MOTHER. ONCE in a lonely Hamlet I sojourned In which a Lady driven from France did dwell; The big and lesser griefs, with which she mourned, In friendship she to me would often tell. This Lady, dwelling upon English ground, Once did I see her take with fond embrace Such things as she unto the Child might say: My song the workings of her heart expressed. "Dear Babe, thou Daughter of another, One moment let me be thy Mother! An Infant's face and looks are thine; 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, Come to me I'm no enemy: I am the same who at thy side For thee, sweet Baby!-thou hast tried, 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 My own dear Little-one will sigh, |