THE BLIND BOY.
"O say! What is that thing call'd light,
Which I must ne'er enjoy?
What are the blessings of the sight?
O, tell your poor blind boy!
You talk of wond'rous things you see,
You say the sun shines bright;
I feel him warm, but how can he
Make it day or night?
With heavy sighs I often hear
You mourn my hapless woe;
But sure with patience I can bear
A loss I ne'er can know.
Then let not what I can not have
My cheer of mind destroy;
Whilst thus I sing, I am a king,
Although a poor blind boy."
—Old Magazine.
148
THE ORPHAN BOY'S TALE.
Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake,
And hear a helpless orphan's tale,
Ah! sure my looks must pity wake,
'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.
Yet I was once a mother's pride,
And my brave father's hope and joy;
But in the Nile's proud fight he died,
And I am now an orphan boy.
Poor foolish child! how pleased was I
When news of Nelson's victory came,
Along the crowded streets to fly,
And see the lighted windows flame!
To force me home my mother sought,
She could not bear to see my joy;
For with my father's life 'twas bought,
And made me a poor orphan boy.