They also boast-there's no concealing-
A very liberal turn of feeling,

Which makes that virtue always shown
To your afflictions--not their own!)
The witch-read midwife's hint of awe;
The posed look of the man of law;
The wonder of the startled nurses;
And the smote father's stifled curses,-
Until at length he sinks him down,
With moving lip, but moveless frown;
Familiar footsteps pass him by—
Their forms are glassed not on his eye;
And voices merge in clamour near;
But sense lies locked within his ear.

So sate he in a marble grieving-
The comic of the crowd relieving;
And, proving the old dogma wrong,
That nought of grief can well belong*
To scenes where gayer verse makes rife
The humour and the farce of life.

Meanwhile, of course, with kindly chatter,
Comes half the town to learn the matter;
His lunch (cold pig†)—the gourmand quits,
The very cooks desert their spits,

*Aristot. de Poetica, sect. xi.

+ Pig and ducks are the favourite food of the Siamese.

The Ava soldier bred to dangers,

The Cochinese who lives on strangers,

"So great the infection soft"-have caught it, And cry-" Poor Fiam! who'd have thought it ?”

Though all unravel-no one blames

The small hypocrisies of names

When Grief's so great we're really dumb for 't,
Garrulity is christened "Comfort!"

And all the Paul Prys of the city

Indulge their vice, and style it—" Pity!"

-But on a couch all uncarest

The new-born Infants lay,
And not one dusky gossip blest
Their entrance into day.
And yet no rude or vulgar grace
You might in their repose descry,
And each to each in close embrace
They nestled tenderly.

As if they felt the rude world round

Already on their being frown'd,

And knew that some strange spell had hung
A blot upon a brother's name,

Yet made the tie to which they clung

No less their shelter than their shame!

And now all's hush'd!-a certain still awes
The motley crowd; they gaze on each
With a quick-meaning eye-but speech
Lies stifled with a numbing fear!
-A single voice appals the ear,

And tells-but with a whispered breath( How easy is an infant's death.

And that we only do fulfil laws

، Given by Nature-to deny

'Life to the wretched things that mock

، Nature herself !'.

Then suddenly

There ran a chill electric shock

Thro' every woman there whose breast
The soft lips of a babe had prest ;
But she who spake-an aged crone
The mother's love had never known !

The gossip ceased; and you might mark
The influence of her words was creeping
Slowly but sure throughout the rest.
And in the pause, and thro' the dark,
You heard the mother's quiet weeping.
-Out rang a sharp and wailing cry
From where the Twins were lain,
And from their first and gentlest sleeping
They woke to earth and pain!