Page:Village pestilence.pdf/5

5 ’Twas constitutional—contagious—mild—

Severe—incurable—a simple thing—

A mighty mystery ne'er to be disclos’d.

Such were the vulgar theories pursu’d,

All empty as the breath that gave them birth,

And spite of all, the pestilence jogg’d on

With silent step, and sudden death, and woe,

And bitterness to many; and to all

Dismay and terror. Men’s hearts fail’d for fear.

Suspended seem'd all labour and affairs,

All human life stood still as petrified,

And hung the head, and sigh'd a hopeless sigh,

As though creation’s final doom had come.

met upon the street and halted mute,

Or, if they spake, ’twas with a shaking head,

Half muttering "'Tis an awful time indeed;"

They parted with a nod, and met no more:

For ere the next day’s Sun had gone his round

The lone note of the village-bell proclaim’d

That one or both, should, in a little hour

Be laid, to mingle with the dust of death.

The tender wife behind the curtains, clasp’d

In love's embrace her lively spouse at ev’n,

And with the rising ray of light, beheld

The ghastly features of her lifeless lord.

The husband saw the wife, whose healthy hand

Had dress’d the meal of which he last partook,

Lie struggling in the ravages of death.

A few short hours were all that interven'd

Between the strong, robust, athletic swain.