Convict unconscious, culprit-child! 
Gates that close with iron roar
Have been to thee thy nursery door;
Chains that chink in cheerless cells
Have been thy rattles and thy bells;
Walls contrived for giant sin
Have hemmed thy faultless weakness in;
Near thy sinless bed black Guilt
Her discordant house hath built,
And filled it with her monstrous brood—­
Sights, by thee not understood—­
Sights of fear, and of distress,
That pass a harmless infant’s guess!

            But the clouds, that overcast
          Thy young morning, may not last. 
          Soon shall arrive the rescuing hour,
          That yields thee up to Nature’s power. 
          Nature, that so late doth greet thee,
          Shall in o’er-flowing measure meet thee. 
          She shall recompense with cost
          For every lesson thou hast lost. 
          Then wandering up thy sire’s lov’d hill[4],
          Thou shall take thy airy fill
          Of health and pastime. Birds shall sing
          For thy delight each May morning.
          ’Mid new-yean’d lambkins thou shalt play,
          Hardly less a lamb than they. 
          Then thy prison’s lengthened bound
          Shall be the horizon skirting round. 
          And, while thou fillest thy lap with flowers,
          To make amends for wintery hours,
          The breeze, the sunshine, and the place,
          Shall from thy tender brow efface
          Each vestige of untimely care,
          That sour restraint had graven there;
          And on thy every look impress
          A more excelling childishness. 
          So shall be thy days beguil’d,
          THORNTON HUNT, my favourite child.

[Footnote 4:  Hampstead.]

* * * * *

Here came “Ballad from the German.”  See page 29.

Here came “David in the Cave of Aditllam” by Mary

Lamb, from “Poetry for Children.”  See vol. iii. page 486._

* * * * *

SALOME

   (By Mary Lamb.  Probably 1808 or 1809)

        Once on a charger there was laid,
        And brought before a royal maid,
        As price of attitude and grace,
        A guiltless head, a holy face.

          It was on Herod’s natal day,
        Who, o’er Judea’s land held sway. 
        He married his own brother’s wife,
        Wicked Herodias.  She the life
        Of John the Baptist long had sought,
        Because he openly had taught
        That she a life unlawful led,
        Having her husband’s brother wed.

          This was he, that saintly John,
        Who in the wilderness alone
        Abiding, did for clothing wear
        A garment made of camel’s hair;