And hold in mother-passion, To mediate 'twixt the two; Out of the dark he trod, With trees, at lasting summer, Before God's infinite! But thou art now the darkest, Until ye two give meeting Where Heaven's pearl-gate is, (By permission of Messrs. Chapman and Hall.) LITTLE CHARLIE. (A CHILD'S LIFE AND DEATH.) REV. DR. GEORGE ASPINALL BORN upon a happy day, Plants on moisture thrive and climb, From the healthful spring; Bathe it till its blood doth glow, Lo! the christ'ning day hath come, Lo! they lave with drops its brow, Peerie mannie, babe of beauty, God doth need him; Charlie, boy, Eyes that sparkle, then grow dim, Ah, relentless, fatal fever! Sable angel pass him o'er, Mark the lintel of her door! Vain entreaty! tread with softness! Very white and cold! White, as lilies of the spring, Charlie! mother's fondest treasure, Gone for aye the peach-bud's hue, Little limbs, how still and quiet! Yet what knowledge on that brow, Courage! crush'd and stricken Rachel, Weeping blood-drops day and night, Recollect, the darkest storm-clouds Have a lining bright! And no cloud by Him is sent That's not fleec'd with soft intent! What though yon small house is empty, Christ has call'd thy little Charlie, Call'd him to a nobler lot, He who said, 'Forbid them not!' Wailing mother, if their angels, And if this indeed be so, Little Charlie's there, we know ! Little sisters, little brother, Ah, what sobs! what smother'd pain! Yet, O children! yet fond Rachel ! Charlie now, His praises sings, (Copyright-Contributed.) A SCENE FROM THE HONEYMOON. JOHN TOBIN. [John Tobin was born at Salisbury, in 1770. He was brought up to the law, but, Shakspeare proving more attractive to him than Blackstone, he adopted the stage as a profession, and wrote several dramas, of which "The Curfew" and "The Honeymoon" are the most noteworthy: the latter, in some of the scenes, strongly resembles "The Taming of the Shrew," but it was very successful. Tobin died 1801.] Table and two chairs. Enter the DUKE, leading in JULIANA, L. Duke. (Brings a chair forward, c., and sits down.) You are welcome home. Jul. (Crosses, R.) Home! retired spot Would be a palace for an owl! Duke. "Tis ours. You are merry; this Jul. Ay, for the time we stay in it. Duke. By Heaven, this is the noble mansion that I spoke of! Jul. This! You are not in earnest, though you bear it With such a sober brow.-Come, come, you jest. Duke. Indeed I jest not; were it ours in jest, We should have none, wife. Jul. Are you serious, sir? Duke. I swear, as I'm your husband, and no duke. Jul. No duke? Duke. But of my own creation, lady. Jul. Am I betray'd-Nay, do not play the fool! It is too keen a joke. Duke. You'll find it true. Jul. You are no duke, then? Duke. None. Jul. Have I been cozen'd? [Aside. And you have no estate, sir? No palaces, nor houses? Duke. None but this: A small snug dwelling, and in good repair. Jul. Nor money, nor effects? Duke. None that I know of. |