RIVER LIFE. 163 



proved to be the funeral of a river-driver. His body had been 

 taken from the vi^ater and shrouded in the open air. Many of 

 the sympathetic villagers were there ; and a pious elder, who 

 chanced that way, breathed a prayer over his remains before they 

 were borne to their final place of rest. 



BURIAL OF A RIVER-DRIVER. , ^' 



" They drew him from his wateiy bed, 

 And shrouded him with kindly care ; 

 ., At ev'n his humble bier was spread, 

 And o'er it i-ose the voice of pray'r; 

 His only jiall night's sable damp, 

 The stars of heav'n his funeral lamp. 



They bore away that youthful form, 



And laid it in the humid grave. 

 That yestermorn with life was warm, 



And launch'd upon the dancing wave 

 With jocund voice, and hopes as blight 

 As stirr'd beneath that morning's hght. , 



His oar with nervous arm he plied, 



Nor shrank from dangers gath'ring fast. 



Struggling against that treacherous tide, 

 His stout heart braves it to the last; 



Till, spent his strength, and dim his eye, 



His oar and skiff float idly by. 



Far distant lies the home he left, 



And side by side an aged pair, 

 , . Unconscious of their hopes l)ereft. 



Breathe now his cherish'd name in pray'r; 

 Their eyes with vvatchfuluess grow dim: 

 Oh ! vainly will they wait for him ! 



A fair young maid, with pensive face. 



Looks forth upon the silent night. 

 Her lieart sweet memories doth trace, 



Tdl future years glow in their light. 



