12
Upon the passing scene; I knew no more
Until my slumbering senses slowly woke,
When, lo! the scene was changed,—the storm was past
A sight the most appaling met my eyes:
Near me, upon the mountain's broken side,
In death's most frightful form, lay cold and stiff,
The two sweet smiling cherubs who so late
With wonder and delight gazed on the sky,
And fearlessly surveyed th' approaching storm,
Unconscious of their doom; and near them lay
In death-like slumber, but with open eyes,
Glazed, and in frightful wild convulsive stare
Fixed on the torn dismembered corses,—
The widow, thus bereft of every hope,
Thus torn from all her earthly happiness.
With trembling arms I raised her from the ground,
And gently bore her from the scene of death.
Long did this lethargic, this heavy sleep,
Cast over all her woes a kindly veil
Of deep forgetfulness. She neither spoke nor moved,
But senseless lay till midnight hour came on,
When, as the clock told twelve she started up,
And, as awaking from a dream, she cried—
"Where are my children?" Then, as if a beam
Of recollection darted o'er her mind,
She said—"Did we not leave them on the mountain!
Oh, where! where are they? My dear lost children!
"Ah! there they are,—I see them smiling now!
They beckon me, and I must go." Again
She sank upon her pillow,—not as erst
To rise again; but surer came the sleep
Closing her eyes upon the world for ever.
Until my slumbering senses slowly woke,
When, lo! the scene was changed,—the storm was past
A sight the most appaling met my eyes:
Near me, upon the mountain's broken side,
In death's most frightful form, lay cold and stiff,
The two sweet smiling cherubs who so late
With wonder and delight gazed on the sky,
And fearlessly surveyed th' approaching storm,
Unconscious of their doom; and near them lay
In death-like slumber, but with open eyes,
Glazed, and in frightful wild convulsive stare
Fixed on the torn dismembered corses,—
The widow, thus bereft of every hope,
Thus torn from all her earthly happiness.
With trembling arms I raised her from the ground,
And gently bore her from the scene of death.
Long did this lethargic, this heavy sleep,
Cast over all her woes a kindly veil
Of deep forgetfulness. She neither spoke nor moved,
But senseless lay till midnight hour came on,
When, as the clock told twelve she started up,
And, as awaking from a dream, she cried—
"Where are my children?" Then, as if a beam
Of recollection darted o'er her mind,
She said—"Did we not leave them on the mountain!
Oh, where! where are they? My dear lost children!
"Ah! there they are,—I see them smiling now!
They beckon me, and I must go." Again
She sank upon her pillow,—not as erst
To rise again; but surer came the sleep
Closing her eyes upon the world for ever.
