Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/155

Rh —She too was near, Who at God's altar gave her holiest vow In all the trusting confidence of love To this her chosen friend.—On her young cheek There was a cankering grief,—and the pale trace Of beauty's rosebud nipp'd.— —Something I said, But faint and brokenly of former days, When in the paths of science and of hope, We walk'd, twin-hearted.—Then there came a peal Of vacant laughter from those bloated lips, And the swoll'n hand with trembling haste was stretch'd For friendship's grasp. —Twas but a transient rush Of generous feeling.—At the shouting voice Of his young children sporting near his bed His fiery eye-ball flash'd,—and a hoarse threat Appall'd those innocent ones,—and that fair girl, From whom intemperance had reft the guide Which nature gave, in terror hid her face Deep in her mother's robe.— —I would have cursed The poisonous bowl, but then in the meek eye Of her who loved him, shone such pleading tear Of silent, deep endurance, that all thought Of sternness breathed itself away in sighs. —I went my way,—for how could I sustain Such change in one so loved!—and as I went I mourn'd that widowhood and orphanage, Which hath nor hope nor pity.—Sad I roam'd Far down the violet-broider'd vale, and when No eye beheld me, to the earth I bow'd