THE WEA.VER'S BOY. Poor Edmund rush'd' in agony bitween, With feeble efforts her, he lov'd, to screen, "Strike me, but not'my mother !" With' an oath, �The bas?, unmanly,' tyrant struck them both. O�t was the scene repeated, and three years Past slowly onward between threats. and tears. Then to her breast'the-savage blow was driven; It was the kindes/he had ever given ! ' It left the cureless malady behind; Cure of the worse, inflicted on her mind, She never Wld, she Sought no skill to save, But'sank, contented, gently to the grave. "O home of peace; O'resting place from care! O bliss ! the wicked cease from troubling there !" Then, while her heart-struck. Edmund wept beside, She bless'd him, kiss'd his pallid cheek, and died. See to the g?ave the small procession come; The child?'ihe father, follow to' the tomb. O mockery !. the mourning garb he wears, And hides his face, to hide his want of tears; While the poor orphan'd boy beside him stands, Sobs, as his heart would break, and wrings his handsl With him the sables but too truly shew (Yet, oh, how faigfly I) the internal woe. .' Well may'st thou grieve, thy only friend is' goue, And thou in loneliness must suffer on; ......... ?Goo?le
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