CANTO IV.

FRED'RIC return'd, that year of anguish o'er,

What tender greetings on his native shore!

How does Eugenia dive into his heart;

Now soothings mild, now counsels sage impart!
Deeply her soul had mourn'd; and well she knew

When to bestow sweet Pity's Hermon dew;
When bid the mind its native strength exert;
When to new themes with pious art divert.

Francis and Mary, with affection bland,

In ev'ry studied care went hand in hand.

F

Clair with warm heart his other child receiv'd,
In all whose griefs the gentle Emma griev'd.
Her artless tears she sought not to restrain;
Of foolish love, she deem'd, no dreams remain :
And sure she was,
her friend would never love again.

She err'd in this:

perhaps, the truth to own,

True love, as yet, her friend had never known.
Love, real love, that blesses, and will bless,
Is calm, serene, nor yields to wild excess;
It bends to Reason, hails her mild controul
The genial glow, not fever of the soul..

The year that saw where erst his Father stood Fred'ric ascend, with pious awe imbued,

In the same holy fane again to teach

Those Christian graces so adorn'd by each ;

That year beheld, with gratitude and pride,

Eugenia hail sweet Emma Fred'ric's bride.

In the same Parsonage where, an ardent boy,

His years began, all eagerness and joy,

Fred'ric with Emma dwells wise, happy, good,
His gen'rous ardour temper'd, not subdued.

The house still wears its venerable face,

Where black and white in cross-work interlace;

Still the train'd apricot, as heretofore,

Hangs on the chequer'd wall its golden store;
Still to the casement clust'ring jasmine clings,
And o'er the room a verdant twilight flings:
No sacrilegious hand may dare presume

Change the dark wainscot of that fav'rite room,
But Emma's landscapes dissipate the gloom.

Where is the heart that glows not at the sight Of all that childhood witness'd with delight!

Fred'ric's beats high with renovated joy,

When strays the man, where rambled once the boy.
Still dear that field, where erst he wont to steep
His feet in dew, what time he joy'd to creep
Towards the linnet's nest, with breathless care,
To watch the eggs, or gaping nestlings there:
And as remember'd pleasure thrills his breast,
Oft is his arm by Emma's fingers prest,

While, leaning still, she fondly turns to gaze
On that dear face, she most with joy surveys
When gay with thrice-told tales of boyish days.
Near the lov'd pair is gen'rous Clair's abode,
Enjoying happiness himself bestow'd.

When summer eve, all pleasure and perfume, Invites to shaded seat and partial gloom, On the green carpet of the velvet lawn, Beneath th' acacia is their table drawn.

Then smokes the urn beside the spreading tree, And all the youthful train are life and glee. The happy kindred each the summons share;

Eugenia, Francis, Mary, all are there,

-

And all the pleasing toil united share.

I love the venerable Clair to see,

A blooming cherub fix'd on either knee;

Meanwhile an elder boy, as reindeer fleet,

Has dragg'd the well-known plank before the seat,

To guard from dewy grass the aged feet.

And thus have years in pure enjoyment past,
Each, if that can be, happier than the last.
May Heav'n the aged Parents long permit
In that delighted group thus pleas'd to sit!
But they have other views amid their joy,
That mingle to endear it, not destroy.

Each has a partner in the realms of rest,
Waiting to welcome them among the blest:
They seek the path those dear exemplars trod,
And while they walk on earth, look up to God.
Nay, if forewarn'd the pious hand should bring
To their pale corse next opening flowers of Spring
Next Summer's turf look green upon their grave,
Still should each face that angel calmness have.
True, they would sorrow for their Children's tears,
But then, a few, few transitory years,

And those dear Children's troubles too are o'er,

And all shall meet to separate no more.

THE END.