had been the night away, But none could ask him whither he had been; And when they told him that the child was dead, For it was sickly ere he wandered forth, He shed a silent tear, and calmly said, “Great are my woes, but I can bear them now.” And ’twas the vision of the fallen night That stood a comfort to his spirit then; Yet he had hoped to see the child survive, And be a last lone comfort to his soul Of earthly kind. And they were glad to see That the full torrent of his grief had gone, And that a peaceful sadness moved him now. Then on the fifth day from her death it was, All due obsequies made, the castle gates Were opened, and emerged therefrom, in deep And sombre black, a mournful train, which bore Unto the grave the mother and the child. There in the ancients’ tombs they were reposed Together, by the graves where many years Had slept his fathers in a silent sleep. The old church bell tolled mournfully, and all p. 105The village mourned, while many wept among The aged and the feeble, who had known The kindness of her way, and the full hand With which in trouble she had come to them. Then Henry rose, and left the well-loved spot, Nor could he brook to linger on the scene, Where had been spent so many happy hours With her he loved, and where she lived and died; But in a foreign land he sought a home, And there sojournéd many years away.

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