MATER GLORLOSA hovers past.
From my aching heart she stole.
To visit, I'm busy.
And presently was dead.The hour her soul its farewell took,The boy was sad, with terror shook,
But, alas, each lasting smart
On table, on bench, and on stool;Then all who had joined in the festival gay
Love not the subtle and old; Mother, observe what I say!Still was new the Antique, when yonder blest ones were living;
If ye, in repentant mood,
So the wife of Asan turns to meet him,Clasps her arms in anguish round her brother:"See thy sister's sad disgrace, oh brother!How I'm banish'd--mother of five children!"Silently her brother from his wallet,Wrapp'd in deep red-silk, and ready written,Draweth forth the letter of divorcement,To return home to her mother's dwelling,Free to be another's wife thenceforward.
1807?.-----SHE CANNOT END.
A loving fate with truth to know.