Akin to thine is this declining frame,
And this poor beggar claims an Uncle's name."
"Avaunt! begone!" the courteous maiden said,
"Thou vile impostor! Uncle Roger's dead:
I hate thee, beast; thy look my spirit shocks!
Oh! that I saw thee starving in the stocks!"
"My gentle niece!" he said—and sought the wood.—
780
"I hunger, fellow; prithee, give me food!"
"Give! am I rich? This hatchet take, and try