Shell-fish-of yore my favourite food, Are now my bane; yet crabs eschew'd, Might make an angel crabbed No wonder if I quit the treat Of dainties that I may not eat, Half starving and half rabid. Debarr'd by fond affection's care From all my palate yearns to share, A kindness still more cruel Gives me carte blanche in all I loathe Bread-puddings, sago, mutton-broth, Rice-milk, and water-gruel! INVOCATION. [Written in the neighbourhood of Abbotsford, during the last illness of A midnight heaven, without one starry spark; Spirits of Earth and Air-of Light and Gloom! Awake! arise! Restore the victim ye have made—relume Wizards! be all your magic skill unfurl'd, To charm to health the Charmer of the World! The scabbard, by its sword outworn, repair; Their lore, than Chrysostom's more rich and rare : That intercepts his intellectual light, And saddens all mankind with tears and night, Not only for the Bard of highest worth, But best of men, Do I invoke ye, Powers of Heaven and Earth! Oh! where and when Shall we again behold his counterpart― Such kindred excellence of head and heart? So good and great-benevolent as wise On his high throne How meekly hath he borne his faculties! How finely shown A model to the irritable race, Of generous kindness, courtesy, and grace! If he must die, how great to perish thus In Glory's blaze; A world, in requiem unanimous, Weeping his praise! While Angels wait to catch his parting breath Who would not give his life for such a death? THE MOTHER'S MISTAKE. HEARD you that piercing shriek—the throe Of fear and agonising woe? It is a mother, who with wild Despairing looks and gasping breath, Thinks she beholds her only child Extended on the floor in death! That darling Babe whose natal cry Her nestling treasure she bedew'd, Then clasp'd him with a silent kiss, And heavenward look'd her gratitude : That darling babe who, while he press'd His rosebud lips around her breast, |