When Jane, as usual, took her Thursday tour,
And reach’d the lodge about th’ eleventh hour—
A plan her loving temper had devised
For both their comfort—she was much surprised
And much alarm’d—nay, felt a bit unwell
When Gray epitomised the fraughtful tale;
But at the glad intelligence that they—
The robbers—were secure in custody,
Besides the message George had left behind
To comfort and appease his daughter’s mind,
Her sorrow’d countenance lit up anew,
Her placid cheeks regain’d their healthful hue;
And she became composed: yet the alloy—
Suspense combined with deep anxiety
(Those dubious moments which must intervene
Before her father could reach home again),—
Compell’d poor Jane to shed a transient tear,
And to extemporise a passing prayer.
Some hours elapsed in this unenvied mood,
Till Martha’s warbler[226] (in its hall of wood),
Rang out its watchful note, as it was wont
Whenever any one approach’d the front,—
And never fail’d save when the darksome night
Would press its weight upon its tender sight,—
So Jane depended, and away she flew
And found the pretty angel telling true:
Wide swung the gate, and ere another breath
(Profound and solemn as the hour of death),
Jane clasp’d her father’s hand, and bade him say
What were the fortunes of the current day.
He kiss’d her cheek and smilingly replied
(Although emotion, for awhile, denied
His pregnant tongue)—“’Tis well, dear Jane, ’tis well!
Much sympathy prevails at Ruttendell,
For this sad loss; but great shall be the praise
To Him above, who hath prolong’d my days;
For at one moment in that dreadful hour
My pulse forsook its regulated pow’r,
And I, my dear, expected—sad to say—
To have been launch’d into eternity!—
Yes—thanks to God, whose providence disposed
The dreadful deed those horrid men proposed,
And prompted me, when life seem’d but a wave,
To yield the substance of the villains’ crave.”
George housed his pony, and return’d to “tea,”
And pass’d this evening far more cheerfully
Than the preceding one, and happily felt
(At length) somewhat atoned by the result;
Nor was dear Jane less comforted than he
For this escape from a calamity,—
As such it would have been (I dare to state)
For some considerable time at Rollingate;
And whilst they liv’d time never could erase
Their recollection of the painful case.
[226] A canary bird.