Page:Forget Me Not (1826).djvu/33

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ALICE. 13


Of yonder sweetbrier, whilst my fairy girl Sought her dear playmate, and the summer sun, Deelining, streamed a glory round her form; And I stood watching them almost with tears — So the deep gladness stirred me — when across Her lovely childish voice, and the gay laugh Of the hidden boy,came quick, shrill, piercing cries Of sudden woe; and, rushing to the house, I saw that beauteous mother on the floor, Pale, speechless, prostrate, writhing; whilst her son, With folded arms and withering eyes, looked on ; And her distracted daughter shrieked in gusts Of helpless agony. — Why shak’st thou thus? Henry. Man is not made of stone. Be brief. Even now I hear her screaming! Oh, be brief! Mrs. Neville. The boy Had followed me; and, trembling with the new Strange sense of misery, seized my husband’s hand, | And looked up in his face. Then, then he burst From dreadful silence to more dreadful speech, Cursing the mother at his feet, the child Within his hand, the blessed light of day, And life, and love! Darkly the tale of woe Came from him. That fair, panting, crouching thing, Quivering beneath her shame, she had confessed Her frailty. Not till after Edward’s birth

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