Awake, alarm, and tell him he is poor.
An angry Dealer, vulgar, rich, and proud,
Thinks of his bill, and, passing, raps aloud;
The elder daughter meekly makes him way -
“I want my money, and I cannot stay:
My mill is stopp’d; what, Miss! I cannot grind;
Go tell your father he must raise the wind:”
Still trembling, troubled, the dejected maid
Says, “Sir! my father!” - and then stops afraid:
E’en his hard heart is soften’d, and he hears