A poor old Man, foot-founder'd and alone, Thus urgent spoke, in Trouble's genuine tone: 'My pretty Maid, if happiness you seek, May disappointment never fade your cheek!-- Your's be the joy;--yet, feel another's woe; O leave some little, gift before you go.' His words struck home; and back she turn'd again, (The ready friend of indigence and pain,) To banish hunger from his shatter'd frame; And close behind her, lo, the _Miller_, came, With Jug in hand, and cried, 'GEORGE, why such haste? Here, take a draught; and let that _Soldier_ taste.' 'Thanks for your bounty, Sir,' the _Veteran_ said; Threw down his Wallet, and made bare his head; And straight began, though mix'd with doubts and fears, Th' unprefac'd History of his latter years, 'I cross'd th' _Atlantic_ with our Regiment, brave, Where Sickness sweeps whole Regiments to the grave; _The Surprise_. 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: _The Discovery_. Yet not my own; but likely so to prove; Though but the pledge of an unlawful Love: I cherish'd him, to hide a _Sister's_ shame: He shar'd my best affections, and my name. But why, young folks, should I detain you here? Go; and may blessings wait upon your cheer: I too will travel on;--perhaps to find The only treasure that I left behind. Such kindly thoughts my fainting hopes revive!-- _Phoebe_, my Cherub, ART _thou_ still alive?' Could Nature hold!--Could youthful Love forbear! _George_ clasp'd the wond'ring _Maid_, and whisper'd, '_There_! _You're mine for, ever_!--O, sustain the rest; And hush the tumult of your throbbing breast.' Then to the _Soldier_ turn'd, with manly pride, And fondly led his long-intended _Bride_: 'Here see your _Child_; nor wish a sweeter flow'r. 'Tis _George_ that speaks; thou'lt bless the happy hour!-- _The Bliss of disinterested Benevolence_. Nay, be compos'd; for all will yet be well, Though here our history's too long to tell'--