“It was indeed a miserable hour [17] 235
  When, from the last hill-top, my sire surveyed,
  Peering above the trees, the steeple tower
  That on his marriage day sweet music made! 
  Till then, he hoped his bones might there be laid
  Close by my mother in their native bowers:  240
  Bidding me trust in God, he stood and prayed;—­
  I could not pray:—­through tears that fell in showers
  Glimmered our dear-loved home, alas! no longer ours! [18]

XXVIII

  “There was a Youth whom I had loved so long,
  That when I loved him not I cannot say:  245
  ’Mid the green mountains many a thoughtless song [19]
  We two had sung, like gladsome birds [20] in May;
  When we began to tire of childish play,
  We seemed still more and more to prize each other;
  We talked of marriage and our marriage day; 250
  And I in truth did love him like a brother,
  For never could I hope to meet with such another.

XXIX

  “Two years were passed since to a distant town
  He had repaired to ply a gainful trade:  [21]
  What tears of bitter grief, till then unknown! 255
  What tender vows our last sad kiss delayed! 
  To him we turned:—­we had no other aid: 
  Like one revived, upon his neck I wept;
  And her whom he had loved in joy, he said,
  He well could love in grief; his faith he kept; 260
  And in a quiet home once more my father slept.

XXX

  “We lived in peace and comfort; and were blest
  With daily bread, by constant toil supplied. [22]
  Three lovely babes had lain upon my breast; [23]
  And often, viewing their sweet smiles, I sighed, 265
  And knew not why.  My happy father died,
  When threatened war [24] reduced the children’s meal: 
  Thrice happy! that for him the grave could hide [25]
  The empty loom, cold hearth, and silent wheel,
  And tears that [26] flowed for ills which patience might [27] 270
    not heal.

XXXI

  “’Twas a hard change; an evil time was come;
  We had no hope, and no relief could gain: 
  But soon, with proud parade, [28] the noisy drum
  Beat round to clear [29] the streets of want and pain. 
  My husband’s arms now only served to strain 275
  Me and his children hungering in his view;
  In such dismay my prayers and tears were vain: 
  To join those miserable men he flew,
  And now to the sea-coast, with numbers more, we drew.

XXXII