For deeper misery, and a heavier rod?” 830
“But could you help them?”—“Think, Sir Owen, how
I saw them then—methinks I see them now!
She had not food, nor aught a mother needs,
Who for another life and dearer feeds.
I saw her speechless; on her wither’d breast
The wither’d child extended, but not prest,
Who sought, with moving lip and feeble cry,
Vain instinct! for the fount without supply.
“Sure it was all a grievous, odious scene, }