The Surprise.

By Robert Bloomfield

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: