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AMELIA OPIE.

THE ORPHAN BOY'S TALE.

STAY, Lady, stay, for mercy's sake,

And hear a helpless Orphan's tale:
Ah! sure my looks must pity wake;
"Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.
Yet I was once a mother's pride,

And my brave father's hope and joy;
But in the Nile's proud fight he died-
And I am now an orphan boy.

Poor foolish child! how pleased was I,
When news of Nelson's victory came,
Along the crowded streets to fly,

And see the lighted windows flame!
To force me home my mother sought,
She could not bear to see my joy;
For with my father's life 'twas bought,
And made me a poor orphan boy.

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.

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"What is an orphan boy?" I cried,
As in her face I look'd and smiled;

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!-
Nay, gentle Lady, do not chide,--
Trust me, I mean to earn my bread;
The sailor's orphan boy has pride.
Lady, you weep!-ha!-this to me?

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,
Unheeded flew the hours;

How noiseless falls the foot of Time
That only treads on flowers!

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
(The list of what fate for each mortal intends),
At the long string of ills a kind goddess relented,

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,
The fund, ill-secured, oft in bankruptcy ends;
But the heart issues bills which are never protested,
When drawn on the firm of-wife, children, and friends.

Though valour still glows in his life's dying embers,
The death-wounded tar, who his colours defends,

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,
Whom duty to far-distant latitudes sends,
With transport would barter old ages of glory

For one happy day with-wife, children, and friends.

Though spice-breathing gales on his caravan hover,
Though for him Arabia's fragrance ascends,

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,
Alone on itself for enjoyment depends;

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,
To subjects too solemn insensibly tends;

Let us drink, pledge me high, love and virtue shall flavour
The glass which I fill to-wife, children, and friends.

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