LINES ON THE DEATH OF MRS.
His little weapon in the narrower sphere
Of sweet domestic comforts, and cuts down
The fairest bloom of sublunary bliss......YOUNG.
MYSTERIOUS Providence, no mortal eyes
Can pierce the darkness of thy close disguise :
Could angels' ken explore the awful gloom,
Then angel breasts must feel at ills to come:
*The event that occasioned the following lines was one of the most deeply affecting that ever came under my observation. Mrs. Bradley, a pious and very amiable woman, the wife of Leveret Bradley of St. John, New-Brunswick, had with her three precious children, been spending the summer with her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Davis, in Halifax, In the month of November she took her passage in a brig bound to St. John, and commanded by Capt. Matthews of that place; but one stormy night, as they were entering the Bay of Fundy, it was perceived the vessel was on fire, and so rapid were the flames, they had scarcely time to get out the boat, and get Mrs. B. and her children into it, when they began to run up the rig
But all is darkness, all is wrapt in night;
Conceald from human and angelic sight;
Or e'er Lavinia saild, some friendly power
Had timely sav'd thee from the fatal hour;
Thy parents too had snatch'd thee from thy doom,
From early glory and a watery tomb:
Could they before the fatal hour drew nigh,
Have read thy dreadful, awful destiny:
Ere yet the gallant vessel spread her sail,
Or felt the mighty impulse of the gale;
Ere the sad boat convey'd thee from the shore,
From weeping eyes that never saw thee more: [woes,
They would have snatch'd thee from the approaching
But who the will of sovereign wisdom knows?
ging. Besides Mrs. B. and her three children, there were twenty-seven sailors, mostly passengers, on board, who alt crowded into the boat, and sunk her so deep she would hardly swim; hence they were obliged to go before the wind. The weather was very cold, and what increased their miseries they were without food, without fuel, and some of them almost without clothes ; in five days, more than twenty of them perished, among whom were Mrs. B. and her children ; she was resigned to her fate, and justified the will of God even in this awful crisis. The captain and four men only were saved. On hearing the melancholy event, Mr. Bradley was for a long time in a state of distraction. Lord, how unsearchable are thy ways, past finding out!
Soft was the breeze, and azure was the skies,
Along the waves the painted vessel flies;
Thy heart with hope and transport gaily beat,
To meet thy love, thy own sweet Leveret;
Each prospect brightens as the vessel glides,
But ah! what ills the future moment hides!
The burning vessel opens to my view,
The anxious captain and the frighten'd crew;
I see, I see, the spiry flames arise!
Mount the tall mast, and tremble in the skies!
The night with heavy clouds condensed hung,
The whistling wind in hollow murmurs sung;
The dreary bays, cold rapid billows roar,
And far, Oh! far away the distant shore!
But Oh! what meets my sight, awakes my fears,
Thyself thy lovely babes all drown'd in tears!
Thoughts upon thoughts within thy bosom roll,
Wring thy fond heart and prey upon thy soul;
Thy husband first engrosses all thy fear,
Thy children next, and then thy parents dear,
Till in succession all before thine eyes,
Friends, brothers, sisters, weeping kindred rise,
And all the blooming prospects which thy age,
The spring of life, and fancy, could presage.
For ever gone, lost at their earliest date,
Dash'd on the rock of stern relentless fate!
But is there not, who reigns enthron'd above,
A gracious Deity, a God of love!
To him appeal, thy overruling friend,
Can brightest bliss with penal evil blend;
Hence when his providence most cruel seems,
The rod with buds, the rock with honey teems.
His book of providence at first is seal'd,
And read by none, to none his will's reveal'd;
Nor till the events have taken place, we know
Our fates and fortunes in this vale below.
So wily penmen with peculiar skill,
And mystic lines, the puzzling letter fill,
Till backward turn'd we read the curious lay,
And every thought is legible as day.
Oft the wide bay thine anxious eyes explore,
In vain to catch some hospitable shore;
Or glancing back on blessings late possest,
And all the woman rushes on thy breast;
Then turn'd to heav'n to supplicate relief,
Or on thy children gazing wild with grief.
Thy children, lovely rivals of the sky,
The mother's jewel, and the father's joy
Heaven mark'd for glory at an early date,
And this the solemn crisis of their fate.
Methinks I hear thy heaven-directed prayer,
“ Lord spare my infants, if it please thee, spare,"
Then frantic clasp them while the bursting sighs,
Rend her full heart and fill her flowing eyes;
Till darting downward as a beam of light,
A beauteous angel strikes her wondering sight,
Calms all the storm that in her bosom rolls,
Her mind composes, and her fears controls;
Points to the radiant skies, and bids her soar
The unknown height, to realms unseen before,
Where angels praise, immortal anthems rise.
And peals of triumph ring the vaulted skies.
Thus he, Oh sister, heaven's peculiar love,
The brightest jewels in the realms above,
Has sent an angel to revive thy hope,
And mix with drops of joy thy bitter cup.
See on yon sapphire bright cerulean throne,
The great, the good, the blest for ever one;
His high, benign, unerring will revere,
Who knows and circumscribes thy suff'rings here,
Who guides the flaming wheels of mighty fate,
And forms his plans by number, measure, weight,
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