"Why are you crying thus;" said I, "While others laugh and shout with joy?” She kissed me and, with such a sigh! She called me her poor ORPHAN BOY.

"What is an Orphan Boy?" I cried,

As in her face I look'd and smil'd; My mother through her tears replied,

"You'll know too soon, ill fated child!” And now they've tolled 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.

THE CHILD OF SORROW'S TALE.

Deny, but do not taunt a maid

Who never scorn, with scorn repays;
Proud man, though now I ask your aid,
Mine once, alas! were happier days.
But sorrow mark'd me for her own

Before I told my twentieth year—
Yet when my friends began to frown,
I but reproach'd them with-A TEAR.

I ne'er could frame the harsh reply,
The look unkind by feeling fear'd,
E'en when I met disdain's cold eye,
E'en when I cruel language heard.
I've seen my friend, my earliest friend,
Refuse my tale of woe to hear;
Yet still unwilling to offend,

All my remembrance was-A TEAR.

And I have known the slanderer's tongue
My fame with vile dishonour taint,
Yet on my lips, no curses hung,

Though mournful, mild was my complaint.

And I was forc'd by cruel power

To leave the scenes I held most dear;

O! 'twas indeed a trying hour!

Yet all my language was-A TEAR.

And I bave known the youth I lov'd
Retract the vows he swore to me,
Behold my pallid cheek unmov'd,

And smiling boast that he was free!
Yet I was calm-and (hour of dread!)
I saw him woo a maid more dear-
But I was mute, I only shed-

No-no;-I COULD not shed a-TEAR.

Ah! full was then my cup of grief—
Friends, fortune, lover, fame, all lost-
I ask relief,

A beggar now,

A small, a trifling, boon at most. Still can you chide me from your door? Ah, no! your looks compassion wearSo large a gift!-Oh! WORDS were poorI thank, I bless you in-A TEAR

THE RING.

The sea-gull wheel'd in circles low,
And, screaming, skimm'd the wintry tide;

The evening blast began to blow,

Up the steep clift's rifted side.

În broken foam, the white surge drove,
And back recoil'd, with rushing sound;
When on the precipice above,

With haggard eyes, and locks unbound,

Stood MARY-once the fairest maid-
And chastest wife on Cornwall's shore,
Till lost her spouse-herself betray'd,
And fair, and virtuous, now no more!

Down on the crumbling rock she kneel'd,
O'er which the waving samphire grew;
And, while her aching bosom swell'd,
Her RING she from her finger drew.

"O! golden pledge of early love!

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"Thou promise of connubial bliss!

Upbraid me not!"-she cried-" nor prove "How ill this soul sustains distress.

"Whene'er thy glittering form I view,

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My heart reproaches me and cries"Could'st thou forget a spouse so true, "Who first conferr'd this hallow'd prize?

"And ere soft April's dewy hand

"Had twice bestrew'd with flow'rs his grave "Submit thee to seduction's bland

"The dupe of vice, and passion's slave!

"Accurst by heav'n, and woman kind, "For ever be that traitor vile,

Who turn'd from innocence my mind, "And dar'd my easy faith beguile!

«O! golden pledge of happier times!

Thou promise sweet of wedded blissNo more reproach me with my crimes, Nor aggravate my soul's distress!

Now dear, belov'd, dishonour'd pledge!
Tay thee thus on this rude stone,

That gazers o'er this fearful ridge,

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Might learn, from thee, that I am gone!

"Here witness thou how MARY fell,

"To expiate her foul disgrace;

"And soon to her Betrayer tell

"The tale that time shall ne'er efface!"

She clasp'd her hands—she rais'd her eyes;
In bitterest anguish of despair;—
Wild was the ocean-dark the skies!

No hope remain'd-no help was near!

Down-down she plung'd-the dashing wave
Receiv'd her on its murmuring breast;
And, rolling back, the gulphy grave
Compos'd her struggling heart to rest!