Ballads | Page 9

spread,
(The truth of her archery
see!)
Thro' his cheek her sure arrow has sped;
It fastens his flesh to
the tree.
Too soon of her conquest secure,
She runs within reach of his claw,

But in tortures he cannot endure,
He has struck her to earth with his
paw.
Lo! anxious the peasant descends:
Good peasant no more be afraid!

Heaven sent her the bravest of friends,
In the boy who has rush'd to
her aid.
Before thou couldst spring to the ground,
Her boy made her triumph

complete;
And contriving a marvellous wound,
He has stretch'd her
foe dead at her feet.
From the tree by his struggles releas'd,
While he roll'd in his own
blood afloat
Brave Demba ran up to the beast,
And darted ten shafts
in his throat.
Their poisons collected afford
Lethargic relief to his pangs;
And
Death! of all nature the lord!
Thy shadows now rest on his fangs.
Now love! thy own fancy employ!
For words are too feeble to trace

The father, the mother, the boy,
In triumph's extatic embrace.

THE SWAN.
BALLAD THE TENTH.
Kind Heaven will oft a lesson give
If mortals are inclined to learn;

To shew how simplest things that live,
To kindness make a rich
return.
Tho' fiction speaks of dying notes,
Sung by the swan in death resign'd;

Is there a tribe, that flies or floats,
Of sense, or feeling, less refin'd?
Yet simple as this bird we deem,
My faithful ballad shall attest,
One
Swan displayed on Thames's stream,
A feeling and a friendly breast
Cecilia liv'd on Thames's bank,
A young and lovely married fair;

To creatures kind of every rank,
A favourite Swan had own'd her
care.
Her lord, a merchant, frank and young,
By probity was known to
thrive;
Their bliss enliven'd every tongue,
They were the happiest
pair alive;

For to increase their nuptial joy
And their domestic scene adorn;

Heaven crown'd their blessings with a boy,
A finer boy was never
born.
His sportive life had only run
To six short months, how brief a date!

When gay Cecilia's darling son,
Was threaten'd with a deadly fate!
Her garden had a terrace fair,
Beneath it, full the river flow'd,
There
she enjoyed the evening air,
Her favourite Swan there proudly row'd.
The mother in her active arms,
To make her boy benignly mild;

And nobly proof 'gainst all alarms,
There oft would exercise her
child.
A boat-house by the terrace side,
Shelter'd a small and simple boat:

And sometimes half way o'er the tide
Chain'd to its home, it us'd to
float.
Here she, her infant, and her maid,
Sport with the Swan, and give it
bread;
While her gay boy, of nought afraid,
With lively transport
sees it fed.
'Tis June--a sultry tempest wild
Impends, Cecilia would retire,
But
checks herself to teach her child,
The vivid light'ning to admire.
Her noble mind delights to rear
In early fortitude, her boy;
That he
the voice of God may hear,
With admiration's awful joy!
While to regain the vessel's shed,
Her maid an active pilot stands;

She to the music o'er her head,
Dances the child with dauntless hands.
But whirlwinds rise: the vessel reel'd,
Heaven! the sweet parent is
o'erthrown:
Her falling head she fails to shield,
Attentive to her
child alone.
Tis the tornado's ruthless blast;
The mother stunn'd, the babe it bears


Far from her senseless frame! aghast
The maid, in speechless
horror glares!
Yet swiftly to its proper shore,
The whirlwind now the vessel drives,

Where by the elemental roar
Alarm'd, Cecilia's lord arrives.
Into the boat behold him bound,
He lifts his lifeless wife upright:

She wakens to the thunder's sound;
Her opening eyes regain the light.
"Where is my child?" she faintly cries;
"Where is the child?" her lord
rejoin'd:
Poor heart-struck Susan nought replies,
The child had
vanished from her mind.
"My child! my child!" with terror's start
She shrieks, in accents wild
and shrill;
And at her agony of heart,
The very tempest's self grew
still!
"Say if you saw him sink!" she cried,
Wildly to Susan pale and wan:

When quick her roving eye descried,
The tall neck of her favourite
Swan.
"My God! my God! 'tis thee I thank!"
Exclaim'd the now exulting fair;

"I see him wafted to the bank,
His cradle form'd by heavenly care!"
She spoke, and all who heard her cry,
Now saw the babe divinely
nurst;
The extatic sight from every eye,
Made tears of grateful
transport burst.
Between her silvery arching wings,
The guardian bird had lodg'd the
child;
And forward as her broad foot springs,
At every stroke the
infant smil'd.
And with a heaven-implanted pride,
Superbly rowing now to land;

The brave bird has her charge denied
To all, but to the mother's hand.
Cecilia feeling now no pains,
Leans o'er the boat's advancing end;


And aided by her lord reclaims,
The present of her feather'd friend.
Now with delight the rescued boy,
To her maternal bosom springs:

The conscious Swan partakes their joy,
And claps her proud
triumphant wings.
Cecilia beads to weep and pray,
She weeps with joy, no longer wan;

And still on this returning day,
Blesses the heaven-directed Swan!
THE HERMIT'S DOG.
BALLAD THE ELEVENTH.
Of dogs who sav'd a living friend,
Most nobly, ye have read:
Now
to a nobler still attend,
A guardian of the dead.
As o'er wild Alpine scenes I stray'd,
Not far