THE MATRON OF JEDBOROUGH AND HER HUSBAND

Age! twine thy brows with fresh spring flowers,

And call a train of laughing Hours;

And bid them dance, and bid them sing;

And thou, too, mingle in the ring!

Take to thy heart a new delight;

If not, make merry in despite

Thatthere is One who scorns thy power:—

But dance! for under Jedborough Tower,

A Matron dwells who, though she bears

The weight of more than seventy years,

Lives in the light of youthful glee,

And she will dance and sing with thee.

Nay! start not at that Figure — there!

Him who is rooted to his chair!

Look at him — look again! for he

Hath long been of thy family.

With legs that move not, if they can,

And useless arms, a trunk of man,

He sits, and with a vacant eye;

A sight to make a stranger sigh!

Deaf, drooping, that is now his doom:

His world is in this single room:

Is this a place for mirthful cheer?

Can merry-making enter here?

The joyous Woman is the Mate

Of him in that forlorn estate!

He breathes a subterraneous damp;

But bright as Vesper shines her lamp:

He is as mute as Jedborough Tower:

She jocund as it was of yore,

With all its bravery on; in times

When all alive with merry chimes,

Upon a sun-bright morn of May,

It roused the Vale to holiday.

I praise thee, Matron! and thy due

Is praise, heroic praise, and true!

With admiration I behold

Thy gladness unsubdued and bold:

Thy looks, thy gestures, all present

The picture of a life well spent:

This do I see; and something more;

A strength unthought of heretofore!

Delighted am I for thy sake;

And yet a higher joy partake:

Our Human-nature throws away

Its second twilight, and looks gay;

A land of promise and of pride

Unfolding, wide as life is wide.

Ah! see her helpless Charge! enclosed

Within himself as seems, composed;

To fear of loss, and hope of gain,

The strife of happiness and pain,

Utterly dead! yet in the guise

Of little infants, when their eyes

Begin to follow to and fro

The persons that before them go,

He tracks her motions, quick or slow.

Her buoyant spirit can prevail

Where common cheerfulness would fail;

She strikes upon him with the heat

Of July suns; he feels it sweet;

An animal delight though dim!

‘ Tis all that now remains for him!

The more I looked, I wondered more —

And, while I scanned them o'er and o'er,

Some inward trouble suddenly

Broke from the Matron's strong black eye —

A remnant of uneasy light,

A flash of something over-bright!

Nor long this mystery did detain

My thoughts;— she told in pensive strain

That she had borne a heavy yoke,

Been stricken by a twofold stroke;

Ill health of body; and had pined

Beneath worse ailments of the mind.

So be it!— but let praise ascend

To Him who is our lord and friend!

Who from disease and suffering

Hath called for thee a second spring;

Repaid thee for that sore distress

By no untimely joyousness;

Which makes of thine a blissful state;

And cheers thy melancholy Mate!