The little History.

When, pennyless and sad, you met with me,

I'd just escap'd the dangers of the Sea;

Resolv'd to try my fortune on the shore:

To get my bread; and trust the waves no more.

Having no Home, nor Parents, left behind,

I'd all my fortune, all my Friends, to find.

Keen disappointment wounded me that morn:

For, trav'ling near the spot where I was born,

I at the well-known door where I was bred,

Inquir'd who still was living, who was dead:

But first, and most, I sought with anxious fear

Tidings to gain of her who once was dear;

A Girl, with all the meekness of the dove,

The constant sharer of my childhood's love;

She call'd me Brother:— which I heard with pride,

Though now suspect we are not so allied.

Thus much I learnt; ( no more the churls would say;)

She went to service, and she ran away.