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Fair arms on which the emerald shone,
And suddenly the gorgeous room
'Twas RAYMOND's love: her braided hair
L. E. L
THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN.
BY ALARIC A. WATTS.
Fare thee well, thou first and fairest !
My sweet one, my sweet one, the tears were in my
eyes, When first I clasped thee to my heart, and heard thy
feeble cries; For I thought of all that I had borne as I bent me
down to kiss Thy cherry lips and sunny brow, my first-born bud
I turned to many a withered hope,-to years of grief
and pain,And the cruel wrongs of a bitter world flashed o'er
my boding brain ;I thought of friends, grown worse than cold, of per
secuting foes, And I asked of Heaven if ills like these must mar thy
youth's repose !
III. I gazed upon thy quiet face-half blinded by my
tearsTill gleams of bliss, unfelt before, came brightening
on my fears,Sweet rays of hope that fairer shone 'mid the clouds
of gloom that bound them, As stars dart down their loveliest light when mid
night skies are 'round them.
My sweet one, my sweet one, thy life's brief hour is
o'er, And a father's anxious fears for thee can fever me no
more ; And for the hopes-the sun-bright hopes--that blos
somed at thy birth, They too have fled, to prove how frail are cherished
things of earth!
'Tis true that thou wert young, my child, but though
brief thy span below, To me it was a little age of agony and woe, ;':;' For, from thy first faint dawn of life thy cheek began
to fade, And my heart had scarce thy welcome breathed ere my hopes were wrapt in shade.
dear as thou wert then,
ness and in pain ; And thus 'twas thine to prove, dear babe, when every
hope was lost, Ten times more precious to my soul-for all that
thou hadst cost !
Cradled in thy fair mother's arms, we watched thee,
day by day, Pale like the second bow of Heaven, as gently waste
away; And, sick with dark foreboding fears we dared not
breathe aloud, . Sat, hand in hand, in speechless grief to wait death's
was gathering fast,
and the last ;In thicker gushes strove thy breath,—we raised thy drooping bead,
(the dead ! A moment more the final pang-and thou wert of