Poems / Eloise A. Bibb [electronic text]

II.

The night was dark, the air was cold,The city slept in peace;A whistle shrill rung on the breezeBut soon was made to cease.Two men, both clad in strange costumesStole near the river's side;

They launched a babe within a cribUpon the flowing tide.

"At last, 'tis o'er; the babe will drown;She'll be no bride of mine.I'll show that old phlegmatic sageFor her I'll never pine.And now, away to Lady Clare,The woman of my heart!Oh, for that hour when we'll be one,On earth, no more to part!"

Lord Allsmere traveled all that night,And reached his lady's side,And pledged again his vows of trothTo his intended bride.And he forgot the lonely babeHe launched upon the deep,But God, who guards the sparrows' nest,Watched o'er the babe in sleep.

And when the morning's roseate tintWas seen to light the sky,A stray gondolier saw the crib,And greatly wondered whyAn infant's wail was loudly heardUpon the water's breast.He took the crib within his boat,And soothed the babe to rest.

He landed with his precious chargeAnd placed her near the gates

Of old Count Dido's stately home,Of whom the world relatesIs seven times a millionaire,With neither kith nor kin.And there the babe was reared, and grewA maiden free from sin.