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Gave cheerful greeting.-Vivid was the light
Which flashed at this from out the Other's eyes;
He was all fire: the sickness from his face
Passed like a fancy that is swept away;
Hands joined he with his Visitant,—a grasp,
An eager grasp; and, many moments' space,
When the first glow of pleasure was no more,
And much of what had vanished was returned,
An amicable smile retained the life

Which it had unexpectedly received,

Upon his hollow cheek. "How kind," he said,
"Nor could your coming have been better timed ;
For this, you see, is in our little world

A day of sorrow. I have here a charge”—

And, speaking thus, he patted tenderly

The sun-burnt forehead of the weeping Child"A little Mourner whom it is my task

To comfort;-but how came Ye?-if yon track
(Which doth at once befriend us and betray)
Conducted hither your most welcome feet

Ye could not miss the Funeral Train-they yet
Have scarcely disappeared." "This blooming Child,"
Said the Old Man, " is of an age to weep

At any grave or solemn spectacle,

Inly distressed, or overpowered with awe,

He knows not why;-but he, perchance, this day,

Is shedding Orphan's tears; and you yourself

Must have sustained a loss."-" The hand of Death,"
He answered, "has been here; but could not well

Have fallen more lightly, if it had not fallen
Upon myself."-The Other left these words
Unnoticed, thus continuing.-

"From yon Crag,

Down whose steep sides we dropped into the Vale, We heard the hymn they sang—a solemn sound Heard anywhere, but in a place like this

"Tis more than human! Many precious rites

And customs of our rural ancestry

Are gone, or stealing from us; this, I hope,
Will last for ever. Often have I stopped

When on my way, I could not chuse but stop,

So much I felt the awfulness of Life,

In that one moment when the Corse is lifted

In silence, with a hush of decency,

Then from the threshold moves with song of peace,

And confidential yearnings, to its home,

Its final home in earth. What Traveller-who

(How far soe'er a Stranger) does not own
The bond of brotherhood, when he sees them go,
A mute Procession, on the houseless road,
Or passing by some single tenement

Or clustered dwellings, where again they raise

The monitory voice? But most of all

It touches, it confirms, and elevates,

Then, when the Body, soon to be consigned
Ashes to ashes, dust bequeathed to dust,

Is raised from the church-aisle, and forward borne
Upon the shoulders of the next in love,

The nearest in affection or in blood;

Yea by the very Mourners who had knelt
Beside the Coffin, resting on its lid

In silent grief their unuplifted heads,

And heard meanwhile the Psalmist's mournful plaint,
And that most awful scripture which declares
We shall not sleep, but we shall all be changed!
-Have I not seen?-Ye likewise may have seen
Son, Husband, Brothers-Brothers side by side,
And Son and Father also side by side,

Rise from that posture :-and in concert move,

On the

green turf following the vested Priest,

Four dear Supporters of one senseless Weight,

From which they do not shrink, and under which
They faint not, but advance towards the gräve
Step after step-together, with their firm
Unhidden faces; he that suffers most

He outwardly, and inwardly perhaps,
The most serene, with most undaunted eye!

Oh! blest are they who live and die like these,

Loved with such love, and with such sorrow mourned!"

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"That poor Man taken hence to day," replied

The Solitary, with a faint sarcastic smile

Which did not please me," must be deemed, I fear,

Of the unblest; for he will surely sink

Into his mother earth without such

pomp

Of grief, depart without occasion given

By him for such array of fortitude.

Full seventy winters hath he lived, and mark!

This simple Child will mourn his one short hour,
And I shall miss him; scanty tribute! yet,
This wanting, he would leave the sight of men,
If love were his sole claim upon their care,

Like a ripe date which in the desart falls
Without a hand to gather it." At this
I interposed, though loth to speak, and said,
"Can it be thus among so small a band
As ye must needs be here? in such a place
I would not willingly, methinks, lose sight
Of a departing cloud."-" "Twas not for love"-
Answered the sick man with a careless voice—
"That I came hither; neither have I found
Among Associates who have power of speech,
Nor in such other converse as is here,
Temptation so prevailing as to change
That mood, or undermine my first resolve."-
Then, speaking in like careless sort, he said
To my benign Companion,-" Pity 'tis

That fortune did not guide you to this house
A few days earlier; then would you have seen
What stuff the Dwellers in this Solitude,
(That seems by Nature framed to be the seat
And

very bosom of pure innocence)

Are made of; an ungracious matter this! Which for truth's sake, yet in remembrance too Of past discussions with this zealous Friend

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