Behold that speechless, aged Dame
Who totters on the Arm
Of Thomas Brown, his sturdy Frame
Supporting her from Harm.
Sad is the Tale that I must tell,
The Cause that struck her Dumb,
For to the Shock which her befell
She nearly did succumb.
Her Nephew Paul a little Mouse
Within the Barn had caught,
And in his Pocket to the House
The tiny Creature brought.
How wrong was Paul, for with Dismay
His Aunt a Rodent viewed,
How wickedly did he repay
Her Kindness oft renewed.
The Work Box on the Table stood,
He quickly rais'd the Lid,
And 'mongst the Silks it did include
The Mouse securely hid.
She oped the Box, her Pins to seek,
Out sprang the nimble Mouse,
Oh Mercy! what a dreadful Shriek
Resounded through the House.
Twas her last Cry, for ne'er again
Aunt Fanny's Voice was heard:
Depriv'd was she, by Shock and Pain,
Of Pow'r to speak a Word.
Paul's Penitence was no avail,
The horrid Deed was done,
Though Good might through his Life prevail,
With Wrong it was begun.
How dread to think the Innocent
Must suffer for his Crime:
Mark how each Fault, though we repent,
Bears Consequence through Time.
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