AMELIA OPIE. THE ORPHAN BOY'S TALE. STAY, Lady, stay, for mercy's sake, And hear a helpless Orphan's tale: And my brave father's hope and joy; Poor foolish child! how pleased was I, And see the lighted windows flame! The people's shouts were long and loud,My mother, shudd'ring, closed her ears; "Rejoice! rejoice!" still cried the crowd,My mother answer'd with her tears. "Why are you crying thus," said I, "While others laugh and shout with joy?" She kiss'd me-and, with such a sigh! She call'd me her poor orphan boy. "What is an orphan boy?" I cried, My mother through her tears replied, "You'll know too soon, ill-fated child!" And now they've toll'd 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. Oh! were I by your bounty fed!- You'll give me clothing, food, employ? Look down, dear parents! look, and see Your happy, happy orphan boy. WILLIAM SPENCER TO THE LADY ANNE HAMILTON. Too late I stay'd, forgive the crime, How noiseless falls the foot of Time What eye with clear account remarks The ebbing of his glass, When all its sands are diamond sparks That dazzle as they pass! Ah! who to sober measurement Time's happy swiftness brings, When birds of Paradise have lent Their plumage for its wings? WIFE, CHILDREN, AND FRIENDS. WHEN the black-lettered list to the gods was presented And slipped in three blessings-wife, children, and friends. In vain surly Pluto maintained he was cheated, For justice divine could not compass its ends; The scheme of man's penance he swore was defeated, For earth becomes heaven with-wife, children, and friends. If the stock of our bliss is in stranger hands vested, Though valour still glows in his life's dying embers, Drops a tear of regret as he dying remembers How bless'd was his home with-wife, children, and friends. The soldier, whose deeds live immortal in story, For one happy day with-wife, children, and friends. Though spice-breathing gales on his caravan hover, The merchant still thinks of the woodbines that cover The bower where he sat with-wife, children, and friends. The day-spring of youth still unclouded by sorrow, But drear is the twilight of age, if it borrow No warmth from the smile of-wife, children, and friends. Let the breath of renown ever freshen and nourish The laurel which o'er the dead favourite bends; O'er me wave the willow, and long may it flourish, Bedewed with the tears of-wife, children, and friends. Let us drink, for my song, growing graver and graver, Let us drink, pledge me high, love and virtue shall flavour |