'Thus far experienc'd, Sir, in you I find
All that is generous, fatherly, and kind;
And while you look for proofs of real worth,
You'll not regard the meanness of my birth.
The little History.
When, pennyless and sad, you met with me,
I'd just escap'd the dangers of the Sea;
Resolv'd to try my fortune on the shore:
To get my bread; and trust the waves no more.
Having no Home, nor Parents, left behind,
I'd all my fortune, all my Friends, to find.
Keen disappointment wounded me that morn:
For, trav'ling near the spot where I was born,
I at the well-known door where I was bred,
Inquir'd who still was living, who was dead:
But first, and most, I sought with anxious fear
Tidings to gain of her who once was dear;
A Girl, with all the meekness of the dove,
The constant sharer of my childhood's love;
She call'd me Brother:—which I heard with pride,
Though now suspect we are not so allied.
Thus much I learnt; (no more the churls would say;)
She went to service, and she ran away.
The Recognition.
'And scandal added'——'Hold!' the Miller cried,
And, in an instant, stood at Phoebe's side;
For he observed, while list'ning to the tale,
Her spirits faulter'd, and her cheeks turn'd pale;
Whilst her clasp'd hands descended to her knee
She sinking whisper'd forth, 'O God, 'tis he!
The good Man, though he guess'd the pleasing truth,
Was far too busy to inform the Youth;
But stirr'd himself amain to aid his Wife,
Who soon restor'd the trembler back to life.
Awhile insensible she still appear'd;
But, 'O my Brother!' was distinctly heard:
The astonisht Youth now held her to his breast;
And tears and kisses soon explain'd the rest.
Past deeds now from each tongue alternate fell;
For news of dearest import both could tell.
Fondly, from childhood's tears to youth's full prime,
They match'd the incidents of jogging time;
Mutual Recollections.
And prov'd, that when with Tyranny opprest,
Poor Phoebe groan'd with wounds and broken rest,
George felt no less: was harassed and forlorn;
A rope's-end follow'd him both night and morn.
Andin that very storm when Phoebe fled,
When the rain drench'd her yet unshelter'd head;
That very Storm he on the Ocean brav'd,
The Vessel founder'd, and the Boy was say'd!
Mysterious Heaven!—and O with what delight—
She told the happy issue of her flight:
To his charm'd heart a living picture drew;
And gave to hospitality its due!
The list'ning Host observ'd the gentle Pair;
And ponder'd on the means that brought them there:
Convinc'd, while unimpeach'd their Virtue stood,
Twas Heav'n's high Will that he should do them good.
But now the anxious Dame, impatient grown,
Demanded what the Youth had heard, or known,
The Investigation.