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« Why are you crying thus;" said I,
" While others laugh and shout with joy?” She kissed memand, with such a sigh!
She called me her poor ORPHAN BOY.
• What is an Orphan Boy?" I cried,
As in her face I look'd and smild; My mother through her tears replied,
“You'll know too soon, ill fated child !” And now they've tolled my mother's knell,
And I'm no more a parent's joy, O lady, I have learnt too well
What 'tis to be an ORPHAN BOY.
THE CHILD OF SORROW'S TALE.
Deny, but do not taunt a maid
Who never scorn, with scorn repays; Proud man, though now I ask your aid,
Mine once, alas! were happier days. But sorrow mark'd me for her own
Before I told my twentieth year Yet when my friends began to frown,
I but reproach'd tlem with - A TEAR.
I ne'er could frame the harsh reply,
The look ankind by feeling fear'd,
E’en when I cruel language heard.
Refuse my tale of woe to hear;
All my remembrance was-- A TEAR.
And I have known the slanderer's tongue
My fame with vile dishonour taint, Yet on my lips, no curses hung,
Though mournful, mild was my complaint. And I was forc'd by cruel power
To leave the scenes I held most dear; 0! 'twas indeed a trying hour!
Yet all my language was-A TEAR.
And I bave known the youth I lov'd
Retract the vows he swore to me, Behold my pallid cheek unmov'd,
And smiling boast that he was free! Yet I was calm—and (hour of dread!)
I saw him woo a maid more dearBut I was mute, I only shed
No-no;-I could not shed a—TEAR.
Ah! full was then my cup of grief
Friends, fortune, lover, fame, all lost-
A small, a trifling, boon at most.
Ah, no! your looks compassion wear-
I thank, I bless you in-A TEAR
The sea-gull wheel'd in circles low,
And, screaming, skimm’d the wintry tide; The evening blast began to blow,
Up the steep clift's rifted side.
In broken foam, the white surge drove,
And back recoil'd, with rushing sound; When on the precipice above,
With haggard eyes, and locks unbound,
Stood MARY_once the fairest maid
And chastest wife on Cornwall's shore, Till lost her spouse—herself betray'd,
And fair, and virtuous, now no more !
Down on the crumbling rock she kneelid,
O'er which the waving samphire grew; And, while her aching bosom swellid,
Her Ring she from her finger drew.
“ Whene'er thy glittering form I view,
“ My heart reproaches me and cries “ Could'st thou forget a spouse so true,
• Who first conferr'd this hallow'd prize?
s And ere soft April's dewy hand
“Had twice bestrew'd with flow'rs his grave “ Submit thee to seduction's bland
“ The dupe of vice, and passion's slave!
** Accurst by heav'n, and woman kind,
“For ever be that traitor vite, So Who turn'd from innocence my mind,
“ And dar'd my easy faith beguile!
O! golden pledge of happier times!
“ Thou promise sweet of wedded bliss **No more reproach me with my crimes,
“ Nor aggravate my soul's distress!
«« Here witness thou how many fell,
“ To expiate her foul disgrace; * And soon to her Betrayer tell
“ The tale that time shall ne'er efface !"
She clasp'd her hands—she rais'd her eyes,
In bitterest anguish of despair ; Wild was the ocean-dark the skies !
No hope remain'd-no help was near!
Down-down she plung'd--the dashing wave
Receiv'd her on its murinuring breast; And, rolling back, the gulphy grave
Compos'd her struggling heart to rest!