Till the moment of the trial, it will readily be supposed that every thought of this amiable young lady was absorbed in her brother's fate. In this interval the following lines appear to have been written:—
On receiving information by a letter from my ever dearly
loved brother Peter Heywood, that his trial was soon to
take place.
Oh! gentle Hope! with eye serene,
And aspect, ever sweetly mild;
Who deck'st with gayest flow'rs each scene,
In sportive, rich luxuriance wild,
Thou—soother of corroding care,
When sharp affliction's pangs we feel,
Teachest with fortitude to bear,
And know'st deep sorrow's wounds to heal.
Thy timid vot'ry now inspire,
Thy influence, in pity, lend;
With confidence this bosom fire,
Till anxious, dread suspense shall end.
Let not fear invade my breast,
My Lycidas no terror knows;
With conscious innocence he's blest,
And soon will triumph o'er his foes.
Watch him, sweet Pow'r, with looks benign,
Possession of his bosom keep;
While waking, make each moment shine,
With fancy gild his hours of sleep.
Protect him still, nor let him dread
The awful, the approaching hour,
When on his poor devoted head
Fell slander falls with cruel power.
Yet, gentle Hope, deceive me not,
Nor with deluding smiles betray;
Be honour's recompense his lot,
And glory crown each future day!
And oh! support this fainting heart
With courage, till that hour is past,
When, freed from envy's fatal dart,
His innocence shines forth at last: