-But see, the evening star comes forth! To bed the children must depart;

A moment's heaviness they feel,

A sadness at the heart:

'Tis gone-and in a merry fit
They run up stairs in gamesome race;
I, too, infected by their mood,

I could have join'd the wanton chase.

Five minutes pass'd-and, O the change!
Asleep upon their beds they lie;
Their busy limbs in perfect rest,
And closed the sparkling eye.

XIX.

THE ORPHAN BOY.

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.

The people's shouts were long and loud; My mother, shuddering, closed her ears: "Rejoice! rejoice!" still cried the crowd; My mother answer'd with her tears. "Why are you crying thus," said I, "While others laugh and shout with joy ?" She kiss'd me, and with such a sigh ! She call'd me her poor orphan boy.

"What is an orphan boy ?" I cried, As in her face I look'd and smiled; My mother through her tears replied,

"You'll know too soon, ill-fated child!" And now they've toll'd my mother's knell, And I'm no more a parent's joy ;

O lady-I have learnt too well
What 'tis to be an orphan boy.

Oh! were I by your bounty fed-
Nay, gentle lady, do not chide;
Trust me, I mean to earn my bread;
The sailor's orphan boy has pride.
Lady, you weep!-Ha!-this to me?
You'll give me clothing, food, employ?
Look down, dear parents! look and see
Your happy, happy orphan boy.

XX.

ON HAPPINESS.

TRUE happiness is not the growth of earth;
The toil is fruitless if you seek it there;
'Tis an exotic, of celestial birth,

And never blooms but in celestial air.

Sweet plant of Paradise, its seeds are sown

In here and there a breast of heavenly mould;

It rises fair, and buds; but ne'er is known

To blossom well, the climate is so cold.

O may my erring wishes learn to rise

Beyond the transient bliss that earth bestows! Stretch forth, my wings, to gain my native skies! There happiness in full perfection grows.

XXI.

FIELD FLOWERS.

YE field flowers! the gardens eclipse you, 'tis true, Yet, wildings of nature, I dote upon you,

For ye waft me to summers of old,

When the earth teem'd around me with fairy delight,

And when daisies and buttercups gladden'd my sight,

Like treasures of silver and gold.

I love you for lulling me back into dreams Of the blue Highland mountains and echoing streams,

And of broken glades breathing their balm; While the deer was seen glancing in sunshine remote,

And the deep mellow crush of the wood-pigeon's note,

Made music that sweeten'd the calm.