the last of the gascoignes.
159
I placed it on my poor and aching breast.
Suddenly, I heard a gentle voice beside me,
Exclaiming, 'Poor boy, what ill betides thee?'
Starting, I turned, and saw a furrow'd face,
It was the good, kind pastor of the place.
I paused, and ere to him I could reply,
He turned on me his calm and kind grey eye.
Speaking in a voice like the best and fondest friend,
Exclaimed, 'Art thou the child of Jeanette Brend?'
'Oh!yes,' I answered quickly, with a flow of tears,
And poured forth into the good parson's ears
All my tale of fear, past griefs, and woe,
Concluding with the last unthought-of blow.
'My mother is now and for ever free,
All worldly care she will no longer see.'
'Martin,' the kind parson hastily replied,
As he gazed on my wild and tearful eye,
'Alas! thy mother sleeps peacefully for ever,
All earthly ties and cares are now sever'd.'
'Oh! take me to the spot where now she lies,'
Was all my sad and calm reply.
He spoke to me in words so passing kind,
Which for a moment relieved my agonizing mind.
He then left me, at my wish, and there alone,
Trembling I stood near my mother's last long home,
And then kneeling by that low and stoneless grave,
Suddenly, I heard a gentle voice beside me,
Exclaiming, 'Poor boy, what ill betides thee?'
Starting, I turned, and saw a furrow'd face,
It was the good, kind pastor of the place.
I paused, and ere to him I could reply,
He turned on me his calm and kind grey eye.
Speaking in a voice like the best and fondest friend,
Exclaimed, 'Art thou the child of Jeanette Brend?'
'Oh!yes,' I answered quickly, with a flow of tears,
And poured forth into the good parson's ears
All my tale of fear, past griefs, and woe,
Concluding with the last unthought-of blow.
'My mother is now and for ever free,
All worldly care she will no longer see.'
'Martin,' the kind parson hastily replied,
As he gazed on my wild and tearful eye,
'Alas! thy mother sleeps peacefully for ever,
All earthly ties and cares are now sever'd.'
'Oh! take me to the spot where now she lies,'
Was all my sad and calm reply.
He spoke to me in words so passing kind,
Which for a moment relieved my agonizing mind.
He then left me, at my wish, and there alone,
Trembling I stood near my mother's last long home,
And then kneeling by that low and stoneless grave,
