|A MOTHER TO HER FATHERLESS -- SON.|
It was a mother, who at eve,
In thought so holy did believe;
Who sat within an ancient dome,
That once had been her favor d home.
The father slept in vaulted walls,
He who had own'd those graceful halls;
And o'er his grave a marble stone,
Proclaimed his earthly grandeur gone.
And 'mid the eve the mother came,
And call'd aloud her son's bright name,
"Come unto me my own dear son,
Thou art to me an only one."
Then came the beauteous boy so bright,
And then methought, you do love right,
And sat beside her, who had been
His guide through life, through faith unseen.
My son,--the faithful mother said,
Your sire is sleeping 'mid the dead;
Remember though on earth we part,
That we must give to God our heart.
Although of royal men was he,
The greatest of them all to be;
Still he was of a spirit meek,
It teaches you his place to seek.
Attend to all my son I say,
And do the Bible's gems display;
This book will teach you wisdom all,
And how the first of us did fall.
Improve your ever precious time,
Listen to Homer's page sublime,
Attend to Cicero's words so strong,
Ere long complete a Virgil's song.
And when afar from me you're moved,
I oft shall think,--how much improved?
If you your father's talent bear,
Thou art prepared for worldly care.
You have as great a chance to be,
As good, as wise, as lov'd as he;
'Mid darkness and amid dismay,
He went rejoicing on his way.
My son,--thou bear'st his noble name,
Behold those walls, their stately fame,
The hand that used to lead you there,
Is sleeping silently,--oh! where!
Thy father sleeps in yonder tomb,
Forever is shaded by the gloom;
Possess his blood within thy veins,
And more than THIS for thee remains.
This world shall try thee o'er my son,
Thou ever dear,--thou lovely one;
Prepare to meet a worldly foe,
May God be with thee when you go!