THE MILLER'S MAID. A Tale. Near the high road upon a winding stream An honest Miller rose to Wealth and Fame: The noblest Virtues cheer'd his lengthen'd days, And all the Country echo'd with his praise: His Wife, the Doctress of the neighb'ring Poor, [Footnote: This village and the poor of this neighbourhood know what it is to have possest such a blessing, and feel at this moment what it is to lose it by death. C.L. _Troston_, 13th of September, 1801.] Drew constant pray'rs and blessings round his door. _The Tempest_. One Summer's night, (the hour of rest was come) Darkness unusual overspread their home; A chilling blast was felt; the foremost cloud Sprinkl'd the bubbling Pool; and thunder loud, Though distant yet, menac'd the country round, And fill'd the Heavens with its solemn sound. Who can retire to rest when tempests lour? Nor wait the issue of the coming hour? Meekly resign'd she sat, in anxious pain; He fill'd his pipe, and listen'd to the rain That batter'd furiously their strong abode, Roar'd in the Damm, and lash'd the pebbled road: When, mingling with the storm, confus'd and wild, They heard, or thought they heard, a screaming _Child_: The voice approach'd; and midst the thunder's roar, Now loudly begg'd for Mercy at the door. MERCY was _there_: the Miller heard the call; His door he open'd; when a sudden squall _The Young Stranger_. Drove in a wretched Girl; who weeping stood, Whilst the cold rain dripp'd from her in a flood. With kind officiousness the tender Dame Rous'd up the dying embers to a flame; Dry cloaths procur'd, and cheer'd her shiv'ring guest, And sooth'd the sorrows of her infant breast. But as she stript her shoulders, lily-white, What marks of cruel usage shock'd their sight! Weals, and blue wounds, most piteous to behold Upon a Child yet scarcely Ten years old. The _Miller_ felt his indignation rise, Yet, as the weary stranger clos'd her eyes, And seem'd fatigu'd beyond her strength and years, 'Sleep, Child,' he said, 'and wipe away your tears.' They watch'd her slumbers till the storm was done; When thus the generous Man again begun: 'See, fluttering sighs that rise against her will, And agitating dreams disturb her still! _The Simple Story_. 'Dame, we should know before we go to rest, 'Whence comes this Girl, and how she came distrest. 'Wake her, and ask; for she is sorely bruis'd: 'I long to know by whom she's thus misus'd. 'Child, what's your name? how came you in the storm? 'Have you no home to keep you dry and warm? 'Who gave you all those wounds your shoulders show? 'Where are your Parents? Whither would you go?