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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 !

As snows that in some deep ravine

Lie motionless and dumb,
Till at a signal from the beam-
Some charm’d voice from the sun-they seem
To wake-wild Genii—from a dream,
And changing as they wake~the steep
Beholds the transformed torrents sweep,

And conquer as they come;
Thus, when that signal cry arose,
Strait from the warmed and melting snows,
The Waters of deep love awoke !---
To life the Mighty Instinct broke,
And wild and thrilling through the crowd,
A Mother's soul speaks out aloud---

“ My children---they are mine !"

And weird, and ghast, and desolate

That sound of woman's deepest fear,

Rung on the humbled father's ear; Where, deadening thought in gloom, he sate With downcast eyes, that loathed to.see, And numb hands drooping on his knee ; And, as a voice that from the skies Bids one the Grave hath housed arise, He rose : the crowd on either side Fell back; sound answered not his stride. He reach'd the cradled pair---no word, No breath, from that hush'd crowd was heard :The mother stretched her arms, but she

Read not the features from her turning, Nor dreamt that there, all visibly

His heart was to the new-born yearning.
She gazed—the pause she could not break,
She gazed—the very power to shriek

Those parted lips forsook.
And in those eyes, as in a mirror,
Nature beheld herself in Terror!

But, with a fixed and gentle look

And trembling clasp, the father took His children :-to her side he came And breathed—yet scarcely breathed—her name. But not another word he said, That whisper had exorcised Dread.

Lo! on her breast the Twins !-and there

They clung, and sought for food, And with fast-dropping eyes—the pair

The bending mother view’d. And, every moment, you might see She clasp'd them more convulsively ; Looked wildly on the faces near, Looked—lost-yet doubting turned to fear ! Then as below her glance she cast, Forgot-in shuddering o'er--the past ! With folded arms and tearful smile

There stands the touched and silent Father ;

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