Page:Poems By Chauncy Hare Townshend.djvu/90

 70 THE WEAV]R'$ BOY. Then, pointing .to the loom, "There, sit thee down," He cried, and left his victim with a frown Who stood awhile with lost bewilder'd sir, Then heaess, r�cidess, sank upon his chair: With mind hal gone scarce knowing what he did, He but.prpar'd to do as 1 was bid. And, the hard task tho' hopeless to fulfil, His fingers moe msbanieally still. But now he starts convulsively, and seems Like ene awak'nin{! from perturbed dreams. A strange wild light came glancing o'er his eye, And his chS6k fiush'd a moment, "I will die !" Oh, was theta noae to bid thee imely flee, Poor child of W, to Him who died far thee ? At morn the'father sou�the working-room, It was deserted  in the silent loom The web but just begun, the chair o'erturn:d, As in wild haste and psrtbation spurn'd. "What, dares he thus indulge himself in rest ?" He seeks his chamber } to,. the bed maprest ! Then, fierce  passion, "Surely he is fled, But I'll sooa fetclhim10ack." Can'st thou recal the dead He hastdd,.! and mot a Fath'riug throng:, Who, in the midst, bore some dmut weight along. They stop-,divide wi exeerating hiss, "Thy cruelty bath di,'n thy son to this ......... Google

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