notices his parent's death, and the general horror which the contagion inspired, in these words:
——— Heav'n restor'd them all,
And destin'd one of riper years to fall.
Midnight beheld the close of all his pain,
His grave was clos'd when midnight came again:
No bell was heard to toll, no fun'ral pray'r.
No kindred bow'd, no wife, no children there:—
Its horrid nature could inspire a dread
That cut the bonds of custom like a thread.
The humble church-tow'r higher seem'd to show,
Illumin'd by the trembling light below;
The solemn night-breeze struck each shiv'ring cheek,
Religious reverence forbade to speak:
The starting sexton his short sorrow child.
When the earth murmur'd on the coffin lid,
And falling bones and sighs of holy dread
Sounded a requiem to the silent dead.
The lowly occupation of Mrs. Bloomfield, and the number of her children, which was increased by the issue of a second marriage, deprived her of the means of giving her son Robert any regular schooling; and nearly all the tuition that he ever received out of her own cottage, was from Mr. Rodwell, of Ixworth (now senior clerk to the magistrates of Blackburn Hundred), to whom he went for about two or three months to be improved in writing.
