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my sadden'd

Asham’d of its own sweets it hung its head.
But, oh, what rapture Mary's eyes would speak,
Through her dark hair how rosy glowd her cheek,
If, in her playful search, she saw appear
The first-blown cowslip of the opening year.
Thy gales, oh Spring, then whisper'd life and joy ;-
Now mem'ry wakes thy pleasures to destroy,
And all thy beauties serve but to renew
Regrets, too keen for reason to subdue.
Ab me! while tender recollections rise,
The ready tears obscure

eyes, And, while surrounding objects they conceal, Her form belov'd the trembling drops reveal.

“Sometimes the lovely, blooming girl I view,
My youth's companion, friend for ever true,
Whose looks, the sweet expressions of a heart
So gaily innocent, so void of art,
With soft attraction whisper'd blessings drew
From all who stopp’d, her beauteous face to view.
Then in the dear domestic scene I mourn,
And weep past pleasures never to return!
There where cach gentle virtue lov'd to rest,
In the pure mansion of my Mary's breast,
The days of social happiness are o'er,
The voice of harmony is heard no more;
No more her graceful tenderness shall prove
The wife's fond duty or the parent's love.
Those eyes, which bright'ned with maternal pride,
As her sweet infants wantou'd by her side,

sad fate to see for ever close
On life, on love, the world, and all its woes;
To watch the slow disease, with hopeless care,
And veil in painful smiles my heart's despair;

'Twas my

To see her droop, with restless languor weak,
While fatal beauty mantled in her cheek,
Like fresh flow'rs, springing from some mouldering

clay,
Cherish'd by death, and blooming from decay.
Yet, tho' oppress'd by ever-varying pain,
The gentle sufferer scarcely would complain,
Hid every sigh, each trembling doubt repror'd,
To

spare a pang to those fond hearts she loy'd,
And often, in short intervals of case,
Her kind and cheerful spirit strove to please ;
Whilst we,

alas, unable to refuse The sad delight we were so soon to lose, Treasur'd each word, each kind expression claim'd, • 'Twas me she look'd at,'—' it was me she nam’d.' Thus fondly soothing grief, too great to bear, With mournful eagerness and jealous care. :

alas, from hearts with sorrow worn Ev’n this last confort was for ever torn : That mind, the seat of wisdom, genius, taste, The cruel hand of sickness now laid waste; Subdued with pain, it shar'd the common lot, All, all its lovely energies forgot! The husband, parent, sister, knelt in vain, One recollecting look alone to gain : The shades of night her beaming eyes obscur'd, And Nature, vanquish'd, no sharp pain endur'd; Calm and serene—till the last trembling breath Wafted an angel from the bed of death!

“Oh, if the soul, releas'd from mortal çares, Views the sad scene, the voice of mourning hears, Then, dearest saint, didst thou thy heav'n forego, Lingering on earth in pity to our woe.

'Twas thy kind influence sooth'd our minds to peace, Apd bade our rain and selfish murmurs cease; 'Twas thy soft smile, that gave the worshipp'd

clay Of thy bright essence one celestial

ray, Making e'en death so beautiful, that we, Gazing on it, forgot our misery. Then-pleasing thought!-ere to the realms of light Thy franchis'd spirit took its happy flight, With fond regard, perhaps, thou saw'st me bend O'er the cold relics of my heart's best friend. And heard'st me swear, while her dear hand I prest, And tcars of agony

bedew'd iny

breast, For her lov'd sake to act the mother's part, And take her darling infants to my heart, With tenderest care their youthful minds improve, And guard her treasure with protecting love. Once more look down, blest creature, and behold These arms the precious innocents enfold; Assist my erring nature to fulfil The sacred trust, and ward off every

ill! And, oh! let her, who is

ту Thy blest regard and heavenly influence share; Teach me to form her pure and artless mind, Like thine, as true, as innocent, as kind, That when some future day my hopes shall bless, And every

voice her virtue shall confess, When

my

fond heart delighted hears her praise, As with unconscious loveliness she strays, · Such' let me say, with tears of joy the while, · Such was the softness of my Mary's smile; · Such was her youth, so blithe, so rosy sweet,

And such her mind, unpractis'd in deceit;

dearest care,

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With artless elegance, unstudied grace,
• Thus did she gain in every heart a place !'

Then, while the dear remembrance I behold,
Time shall steal on, nor tell me I am old,
Till, nature wearied, each fond duty o'er,
I join my Angel Friend—to part no more !"

To the conduct of Mr. Sheridan, during the last moments of his father, a further testimony has been kindly communicated to me by Mr. Jarvis, a medical gentleman of Margate, who attended Mr. Thomas Sheridan on that occasion, and whose interesting communication I shall here give in his own words :

“ On the oth of August, 1788, I was first called on lo visit Mr. Sheridan, who was then fast declining at his lodgings in this place, where he was in the care of his daughter. On the next day Mr. R. B. Shersdan arrived here from town, having brought with him Dr. Morris, of Parliament Street. I was in the bed-room with Mr. Sheridan when the son arrived, and witnessed an interview in which the father showed himself to be strongly impressed by his son's attention, saying, with considerable emotion, 'Oh Dick, I give you a great deal of trouble !' and seeming to imply by his manner, that his son had been less to blame than himself, for any previous want of cordiality between them.

“On my making my last call for the evening, Mr. R. B. Sheridan, with delicacy, but much earnestness, expressed his fear that the nurse in attendance on his father, might not be so competent as myself to the requisite attentions, and bis hope that I would consent to remain in the room for a few of the first hours of the night; as

7

VOL. II.

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