Part 13 (2/2)
TRAVELLER.
Rascals! a mean art Of cruel cowardice, yet all in vain!
WOMAN.
Yes Sir! and they should show no mercy to them For making use of such unchristian arms.
I had a letter from the hospital, He got some friend to write it, and he tells me That my poor boy has lost his precious eyes, Burnt out. Alas! that I should ever live To see this wretched day!--they tell me Sir There is no cure for wounds like his. Indeed 'Tis a hard journey that I go upon To such a dismal end!
TRAVELLER.
He yet may live.
But if the worst should chance, why you must bear The will of heaven with patience. Were it not Some comfort to reflect your son has fallen Fighting his country's cause? and for yourself You will not in unpitied poverty Be left to mourn his loss. Your grateful country Amid the triumph of her victory Remember those who paid its price of blood, And with a n.o.ble charity relieves The widow and the orphan.
WOMAN.
G.o.d reward them!
G.o.d bless them, it will help me in my age But Sir! it will not pay me for my child!
TRAVELLER.
Was he your only child?
WOMAN.
My only one, The stay and comfort of my widowhood, A dear good boy!--when first he went to sea I felt what it would come to,--something told me I should be childless soon. But tell me Sir If it be true that for a hurt like his There is no cure? please G.o.d to spare his life Tho' he be blind, yet I should be so thankful!
I can remember there was a blind man Lived in our village, one from his youth up Quite dark, and yet he was a merry man, And he had none to tend on him so well As I would tend my boy!
TRAVELLER.
Of this be sure His hurts are look'd to well, and the best help The place affords, as rightly is his due, Ever at hand. How happened it he left you?
Was a seafaring life his early choice?
WOMAN.
No Sir! poor fellow--he was wise enough To be content at home, and 'twas a home As comfortable Sir I even tho' I say it, As any in the country. He was left A little boy when his poor father died, Just old enough to totter by himself And call his mother's name. We two were all, And as we were not left quite dest.i.tute We bore up well. In the summer time I worked Sometimes a-field. Then I was famed for knitting, And in long winter nights my spinning wheel Seldom stood still. We had kind neighbours too And never felt distress. So he grew up A comely lad and wonderous well disposed; I taught him well; there was not in the parish A child who said his prayers more regular, Or answered readier thro' his catechism.
If I had foreseen this! but 'tis a blessing We do'nt know what we're born to!
TRAVELLER.
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