Rural Tales, Ballads, and Songs | Page 9

flowers;
With mutual sighs both fann'd the wings of
Time;
As we climb Hills and gladden as we climb,
Eager Expectation.
And reach at last the distant promis'd seat,
Casting the glowing
landscape at our feet
Oft had the Morning Rose with dew been wet,

And oft the journeying Sun in glory set,
Beyond the willow'd meads
of vigorous grass,
The steep green hill, and woods they were to pass;

When now: the day arriv'd: Impatience reign'd;
And GEORGE,--by
trifling obstacles detain'd--
His bending Blackthorn on the threshold
prest,
Survey'd the windward clouds, and hop'd the best.
PHOEBE,
attir'd with every modest grace,
While Health and Beauty revell'd in
her face,
Came forth; but soon evinc'd an absent mind,
For, back
she turn'd for something left behind;
Again the same, till George
grew tir'd of home,
And peevishly exclaim'd, 'Come, Phoebe, come.'

Another hindrance yet he had to feel:
As from the door they tripp'd
with nimble heel,
The Old Soldier.
A poor old Man, foot-founder'd and alone,
Thus urgent spoke, in
Trouble's genuine tone:
'My pretty Maid, if happiness you seek,

May disappointment never fade your cheek!--
Your's be the joy;--yet,
feel another's woe;
O leave some little, gift before you go.'

His
words struck home; and back she turn'd again,
(The ready friend of

indigence and pain,)
To banish hunger from his shatter'd frame;

And close behind her, lo, the Miller, came,
With Jug in hand, and
cried, 'GEORGE, why such haste?
Here, take a draught; and let that
Soldier taste.'
'Thanks for your bounty, Sir,' the Veteran said;
Threw
down his Wallet, and made bare his head;
And straight began, though
mix'd with doubts and fears,
Th' unprefac'd History of his latter years,

'I cross'd th' Atlantic with our Regiment, brave,
Where Sickness
sweeps whole Regiments to the grave;
The Surprise.
Yet I've escap'd; and bear my arms no more;
My age discharg'd me
when I came on shore.
My Wife, I've heard,'--and here he wip'd his
eyes,---
'In the cold corner of the Church-yard lies.
By her consent
it was I left my home:
Employment fail'd, and poverty waa come;

The Bounty tempted me;--she had it all:
We parted; and I've seen my
betters fall.
Yet, as I'm spar'd, though in this piteous case,
I'm
tray'ling homeward to my native place;
Though should I reach that
dear remember'd spot,
Perhaps OLD GRAINGER will be quite
forgot.'
All eyes beheld young George with wonder start:
Strong were the
secret bodings of his heart;
Yet not indulg'd: for he with doubts
survey'd
By turns the Stranger, and the lovely Maid.
'Had you no
Children?'--'Yes, young Man; I'd two:
A Boy, if still he lives, as old
as you:
The Discovery.
Yet not my own; but likely so to prove;
Though but the pledge of an
unlawful Love:
I cherish'd him, to hide a Sister's shame:
He shar'd
my best affections, and my name.
But why, young folks, should I
detain you here?

Go; and may blessings wait upon your cheer:
I too
will travel on;--perhaps to find
The only treasure that I left behind.


Such kindly thoughts my fainting hopes revive!--
Phoebe_, my
Cherub, ART _thou still alive?'
Could Nature hold!--Could youthful Love forbear!
George_ clasp'd
the wond'ring _Maid_, and whisper'd, '_There! You're mine for,
ever!--O, sustain the rest;
And hush the tumult of your throbbing
breast.'
Then to the Soldier turn'd, with manly pride,
And fondly led
his long-intended Bride:
'Here see your Child; nor wish a sweeter
flow'r.
'Tis George that speaks; thou'lt bless the happy hour!--
The Bliss of disinterested Benevolence.
Nay, be compos'd; for all will yet be well,
Though here our history's
too long to tell'--
A long-lost Father found, the mystery clear'd,
What mingled
transports in her face appear'd!
The gazing Veteran stood with hands
uprais'd--
'Art thou indeed my Child! then, God be prais'd.'
O'er his
rough cheeks the tears profusely spread:
Such as fools say become
not Men to shed;
Past hours of bliss, regenerated charms,
Rose,
when he felt his Daughter in his arms:
So tender was the scene, the
generous Dame
Wept, as she told of Phoebe's virtuous fame,
And
the good Host, with gestures passing strange,
Abstracted seem'd
through fields of joy to range:
Rejoicing that his favour'd Roof should
prove
Virtue's asylum, and the nurse of Love;
Rejoicing that to him
the task was given,
his full Soul was mounting up to Heav'n.
The Adopted Daughter.
But now, as from a dream, his Reason sprung,
And heartiest greetings
dwelt upon his tongue;
The sounding Kitchen floor at once receiv'd

The happy group, with all their fears reliev'd:
'Soldier,' he cried,
'you've found your Girl; 'tis true:
But suffer me to be a Father too;

For, never Child that blest a Parent's knee,
Could show more duty
than she has to met
Strangely she came; Affliction chas'd her hard:
I

pitied her;--and this is my reward!
Here sit you down; recount your
perils o'er:
Henceforth be this your home; and grieve no more:

Plenty hath shower'd her dewdrops on my head;
Care visits not my
Table, nor my Bed.
My heart's warm wishes thus then I fulfill:--
My
Dame and I can live without the Mill:
George, take the whole; I'll
near you still remain
To guide your judgment in the choice of Grain:
Perfect Content: hopes and prospects of Goodness.
In Virtue's path commence your prosperous life;
And from