Love and grief or The death of the Sutherlands/Love and Grief, or The Death of the Sutherlands

LOVE AND GRIEF,
OR THE DEATH OF THE SUTHERLANDS.

FROM Caledonia's diſtant bounds,
⁠beyond the Murray firth,
Where Scottiſh men, with warlike ſounds
⁠joine dance, and ſong, and mirth.

There came the lord of Sutherland,
⁠a youth tall, fair, and free;
His race was aye a gallant band,
⁠a gallant youth was he.

He lov'd his king, his country lov'd;
⁠a truſty blade he bore
To ſmite their foes; by fear unmov'd;
⁠their foes him dreaded fore.

Yet gentle was he, too, and kind,
⁠as kindeſt friend might be;
For ſtill in braveſt ſouls, we find,
⁠dwells ſweet humanity.

A youth ſo brave, a youth ſo mild,
⁠what lady would not love?
Where'er he came, where'er he ſmil'd,
⁠in vain the fair ones ſtrove.

To quench the ſoft, but dangerous flame
⁠that in their boſoms glow'd;
The kindling bluſh that went and came
⁠the ſecret flame ſtill ſhow'd.

Amid the reſt, a lovely maid,
⁠Maria height was ſeen;
Lovely her looks, her manners ftaid,
⁠but moſt her mind, I ween.

Did take who ſaw, meek was her mind
⁠as meekeſt infant's ſmiles;
And wiſe as age, nor yet inclin'd
⁠to (illegible text)ming that beguiles.

Nor art nor cunning needed ſhe,
⁠her ſoul was fill'd with grace;
Sincerely good, and nobly free,
⁠her ſoul beam'd in her face.

In deſtin'd hour young Sutherland
⁠beheld the beauteous maid;
Her beauty could the youth withſtand,
⁠ſuch beauty ſo array'd.

Ah, no! her charms, by Virtue dreſt,
⁠did ſeize the hero's heart;
He lov'd, he courted, he was bleſt—
⁠death could them only part:—

Nor that long time!—Lift to my tale,
⁠a tale of love and woe;
If pity in your heart prevail
⁠lift, and a tear beſtow.

Midſt all that worth and wealth combin'd,
⁠which friends and fame confer,
Of pleaſure on the feeling mind,
⁠did live this happy pair.

Their happineſs to crown, kind heav'n
⁠two pretty babes did lend;
Lent was the bleſſing, not ſo giv’n,
⁠but for it heaven might ſend.

And ſend Heaven did, ere long, for part,
⁠the eldeſt was recall'd;
Both parents ſorely ru'd the ſmart,
⁠the ſmart them both appall'd

Now firſt appall'd, our warrior brave
⁠ſunk down in deep diſmay;
And oft he view'd his darling's grave,
⁠his darling torn away.

Till heavey thoughts revolv'd too oft,
⁠oppreſs'd the ſprings of life;
His ſtrength decay'd, his ſoul was ſoft,
⁠it bow'd beneath the ſtrife.

His friends to flee the ſcene of grief
⁠their prudent counſel gave;
(From objects new we meet relief)
⁠all fought the youth to ſave.

Bath's balmy waters gently ſtream'd,
⁠their genial aid to give;
Each joy-inſpiring Naiad ſeem'd
⁠to bid the warrior live.

Nathleſs the lurking ſickneſs gains
⁠faſt on his weakened frame;
Till grown more bold, encreaſing pains
⁠reveal'd the fever's flame.

Full thirty days and thirty nights
⁠Maria tends his bed,
Io her what are the world's delights,
⁠while there her lord is laid?

To lull his anguiſh, calm his mind,
⁠and hand the healing doſe,
Was all her care: For this ſhe pin'd;
⁠for this the loſt repoſe.

At length her pious care prevail'd,
⁠to quell the fierce diſeaſe———
Might he but live, whate'er elſe fail'd,
⁠ſhe reck'd not; pain would pleaſe———

Ah me! what tidings do I hear?
⁠"ſhe ſickens, faints, and dies:
"Outworn with watching, grief, and fear,
⁠"ſhe falls a ſacrifice."

Huſh! hide the woeful chance, look gay,
⁠and cloſeſt ſilience keep;
Or ſmiling, ſpite of ſorrow, ſay,
⁠"the lady is aſleep."

Say ſo next day, try ev'ry art———
⁠but ev'ry art is vain;
Prolong'd ſuſpence, the wiſhing heart
⁠refuſeth to ſuſtain.

"Where is Maria dear," he cries,
⁠"my charmer, where is ſhe,
"Whoſe looks were wont to cheer my eyes?
ː ⁠"why doth ſhe fly from me?

"Go, bring her; ſay poor Sutherland,
⁠"bereav'd of her, muſt die:
"Make haſte—why do ye ſpeechleſs ſtand;
⁠"what means that ſudden ſigh?

"Alas! alas! Maria's gone;
⁠"I will not here abide;
"We cannot part; we ſtill are one"———
⁠he ſaid, then groan'd, and died.