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His Daughter, and that late and high-prized gift,
His little smiling Grandchild, were no more.
"All gone, all vanished! he deprived and bare,
"How will he face the remnant of his life?
"What will become of him?" we said, and mused
In sad conjectures, "Shall we meet him now
"Haunting with rod and line the craggy brooks?
"Or shall we overhear him, as we pass,
"Striving to entertain the lonely hours
"With music?" (for he had not ceased to touch
The harp or viol which himself had framed,
For their sweet purposes, with perfect skill.)
"What titles will he keep? will he remain
"Musician, Gardener, Builder, Mechanist,
"A Planter, and a rearer from the Seed?
"A Man of hope and forward-looking mind
"Even to the last!"—Such was he, unsubdued.
But Heaven was gracious; yet a little while,
And this Survivor, with his cheerful throng
Of open schemes, and all his inward hoard
Of unsunned griefs, too many and too keen,
