See how good turns are rewarded! 
  She of both is now discarded,
  Who to both had been so late
  Their support in low estate,
  All their comfort, and their stay—­
  Now of both is cast away. 
  But the league her presence cherish’d,
  Losing its best prop, soon perish’d;
  She, that was a link to either,
  To keep them and it together,
  Being gone, the two (no wonder)
  That were left, soon fell asunder;—­
  Some civilities were kept,
  But the heart of friendship slept;
  Love with hollow forms was fed,
  But the life of love lay dead:—­
  A cold intercourse they held,
  After Mary was expell’d.

    Two long years did intervene
  Since they’d either of them seen,
  Or, by letter, any word
  Of their old companion heard,—­
  When, upon a day once walking,
  Of indifferent matters talking,
  They a female figure met;
  Martha said to Margaret,
  “That young maid in face does carry
  A resemblance strong of Mary.” 
  Margaret, at nearer sight,
  Own’d her observation right;
  But they did not far proceed
  Ere they knew ’twas she indeed. 
  She—­but, ah I how changed they view her
  From that person which they knew her! 
  Her fine face disease had scarr’d,
  And its matchless beauty marr’d:—­
  But enough was left to trace
  Mary’s sweetness—­Mary’s grace. 
  When her eye did first behold them,
  How they blush’d!—­but, when she told them,
  How on a sick-bed she lay
  Months, while they had kept away,
  And had no inquiries made
  If she were alive or dead;—­
  How, for want of a true friend,
  She was brought near to her end,
  And was like so to have died,
  With no friend at her bedside;—­
  How the constant irritation,
  Caused by fruitless expectation
  Of their coming, had extended
  The illness, when she might have mended,—­
  Then, O then, how did reflection
  Come on them with recollection! 
  All that she had done for them,
  How it did their fault condemn!

    But sweet Mary, still the same,
  Kindly eased them of their shame;
  Spoke to them with accents bland,
  Took them friendly by the hand;
  Bound them both with promise fast. 
  Not to speak of troubles past;
  Made them on the spot declare
  A new league of friendship there;
  Which, without a word of strife,
  Lasted thenceforth long as life. 
  Martha now and Margaret
  Strove who most should pay the debt
  Which they owed her, nor did vary
  Ever after from their Mary.

* * * * *

TO A RIVER IN WHICH A CHILD WAS DROWNED.

  Smiling river, smiling river,
    On thy bosom sunbeams play;
  Though they’re fleeting, and retreating,
    Thou hast more deceit than they.

  In thy channel, in thy channel,
    Choked with ooze and grav’lly stones,
  Deep immersed, and unhearsed,
    Lies young Edward’s corse:  his bones