THE FEMALE VAGRANT.

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    <strong>THE FEMALE VAGRANT.</strong>

    By Derwents side my Fathers cottage stood,

    (The Woman thus her artless story told)

    One ?eld, a ?ock, and what the neighb ?ood

    Supplied, to him were more than mines of gold.

    Light was my sleep; my days in transport rolld:

    With thoughtless joy I stretchd along the shore

    My fathers s, or watched, when from the fold

    High oer the cliffs I led my ?eecy store,

    A dizzy depth below! his boat and twinkling oar.

    My father was a good and pious man,

    An ho man by ho parents bred,

    And I believe that, soon as I began

    To lisp, he made me kneel beside my bed,

    And in his hearing there my prayers I said:

    And afterwards, by my good father taught,

    I read, and loved the books in which I read;

    For books in every neighb house I sought,

    And nothing to my mind a sweeter pleasure brought.

    I fet what charms did once adorn

    My garden, stored with pease, and mint, and thyme,

    And rose and lilly for the sabbath morn?

    The sabbath bells, and their delightful chime;

    The gambols and wild freaks at shearing time;

    My hens riest through long grass scarce espied;

    The cowslip-gathering at Mays dewy prime;

    The swans, that, when I sought the water-side,

    From far to meet me came, spreading their snowy pride.

    The staff I yet remember which upbore

    The bending body of my active sire;

    His seat beh the honeyed sycamore

    When the bees hummed, and chair by winter ?re;

    When market-m came, the  attire

    With which, though bent on haste, myself I deckd;

    My watchful dog, whose starts of furious ire,

    When stranger passed, so often I have checkd;

    The red-breast known for years, which at my casement peckd.

    The suns of twenty summers danced along,--

    Ah! little marked, how fast they rolled away:

    Then rose a mansion proud our woods among,

    And cottage after cottage ows sway,

    No joy to see a neighb house, or stray

    Through pastures not his own, the master took;

    My Father dared his greedy wish gainsay;

    He loved his old hereditary nook,

    And ill could I the thought of such sad parting brook.

    But, when he had refused the prold,

    To cruel injuries he became a prey,

    Sore traversed in whateer he bought and sold:

    His troubles grew upon him day by day,

    Till all his substance fell into decay.

    His little range of water was denied;[2]

    All but the bed where his old body lay,

    All, all was seized, and weeping, side by side,

    We sought a home where we uninjured might abide.

    I fet that miserable hour,

    When from the last hill-top, my sire surveyed,

    Peering above the trees, the steeple tower,

    That on his marriage-day sweet music made?

    Till then he hoped his bones might there be laid,

    Close by my mother in their native bowers:

    Biddirust in God, he stood and prayed,--

    I could not pray:--through tears that fell in showers,

    Glimmerd our dear-loved home, alas! no longer ours!

    There was a youth whom I had loved so long,

    That when I loved him not I ot say.

    Mid the green<bdo></bdo> mountains many and many a song

    We two had sung, like little birds in May.

    When we began to tire of childish play

    We seemed still more and more to prize each other:

    We talked of marriage and our marriage day;

    And I in truth did love him like a brother,

    For never could I hope to meet with suother.

    His father said, that to a distant town

    He must repair, to ply the artists trade.

    What tears of bitter grief till then unknown!

    What tender vows our last sad kiss delayed!

    To him we turned:--we had no other aid.

    Like one revived, upon his neck I wept,

    And her whom he had loved in joy, he said

    He well could love in grief: his faith he kept;

    And in a quiet home ony father slept.

    Four years each day with daily br<var>藏书网</var>ead was blest,

    By stant toil and stant prayer supplied.

    Three lovely infants lay upon my breast;

    And often, viewing their sweet smiles, I sighed,

    And knew not why. My happy father died

    When sad distress reduced the childrens meal:

    Thrice happy! that from him the grave did hide

    The empty loom, cold hearth, and silent wheel,

    And tears that ?owed for ills which patience could not heal.

    Twas a hard ge, an evil time was e;

    We had no hope, and no relief could gain.

    But soon, with proud parade, the noisy drum

    Beat round, to sweep the streets of want and pain.

    My husbands arms now only served to strain

    Me and his children hungering in his view:

    In such dismay my prayers and tears were vain:

    To join those miserable men he ?ew;

    And now to the sea-coast, with numbers more, we drew.

    There foul  for months and months we bore,

    Nor yet the crowded ?eet its anchor stirred.

    Green ?elds before us and our native shore,

    By fever, from polluted air incurred,

    Ravage was made, for whio knell was heard.

    Fondly we wished, and wished away, nor knew,

    Mid that long siess, and those hopes deferrd,

    That happier days we never more must view:

    The parting signal streamed, at last the land withdrew,

    But from delay the summer calms were pas<tt></tt>t.

    On as we drove, the equinoctial deep

    Ran mountains--high before the howling blaft.

    We gazed with terror on the gloomy sleep

    Of them that perished in the whirlwinds sweep,

    Untaught that soon suguish must ensue,

    Our hopes such harvest of af?i reap,

    That we the mercy of the waves should rue.

    We reached the western world, a poor, devoted crew.

    Oh! dreadful price of being tn

    All that is dear _in_ being! better far

    In Wants most lonely cave till death to pine,

    Unseen, unheard, unwatched by any star;

    Or ireets and walks where proud men are,

    Better our dying bodies to obtrude,

    Than dog-like, wading at the heels of war,

    Protract a curst existence, with the brood

    That lap (their very nourishment!) their brothers blood.

    The pains and plagues that on our heads came down,

    Disease and famine, agony and fear,

    In wood or wilderness, in camp or town,

    It would thy brain ule even to hear.

    All perished--all, in one remorseless year,

    Husband and children! one by one, by sword

    And ravenous plague, all perished: every tear

    Dried up, despairing, desolate, on board

    A British ship I waked, as from a trance restored.

    Peaceful as some immeasurable plain

    By the ?rst beams of dawning light impressd,

    In the calm sunshine slept the glittering main.

    The very o has its hour of rest,

    That es not to the human mourners breast.

    Remote from man, and storms of mortal care,

    A heavenly silence did the waves i;

    I looked and looked along the silent air,

    Until it seemed t a joy to my despair.

    Ah! how uhose late terri?c sleeps!

    And groans, that rage of rag famine spoke,

    Where looks inhuma oering heaps!

    The breathiilehat rose like smoke!

    The shriek that from the distant battle broke!

    The mines dire earthquake, and the pallid host

    Driven by the bombs incessant thuroke

    To loathsome vaults, where heart-siguish tossd,

    Hope died, and fear itself in agony was lost!

    Yet does that burst of woe geal my frame,

    When the dark streets appeared to heave and gape,

    While like a sea the st army came,

    And Fire from Hell reared his gigantic shape,

    And Murder, by the ghastly gleam, and Rape

    Seized their joint prey, the mother and the child!

    But from these crazing thoughts my brain, escape!

    --For weeks the balmy air breathed soft and mild,

    And on the gliding vessel Heaven and O smiled.

    Some mighty gulph of separation past,

    I seemed transported to another world:--

    A thought resigned with pain, when from the mast

    The impatient marihe sail unfurld,

    And whistling, called the wind that hardly curled

    The silent sea. From the sweet thoughts of home,

    And from all hope I was forever hurled.

    For me--farthest from earthly port to roam

    Was best, could I but shun the spot where man might e.

    And oft, robbd of my perfect mind, I thought

    At last my feet a resting-place had found:

    Here will I weep in peace, (so fancy wrought,)

    Roaming the illimitable waters round;

    Here watch, of every human friend disowned,

    All day, my ready tomb the o-?ood--

    To break my dream the vessel reached its bound:

    And homeless near a thousand homes I stood,

    And near a thousand tables pined, and wanted food.

    By grief enfeebled was I turned adrift,

    Helpless as sailor cast o rock;

    Nor morsel to my mouth that<tt>9９ｌｉb.t> day did lift,

    Nor dared my hand at any door to knock.

    I lay, where with his drowsy mates, the cock

    From the cross timber of an out-house hung;

    How dismal tolled, that night, the city clock!

    At morn my sick heart hunger scarcely stung,

    Nor to the beggars language could I frame my tongue.

    So passed another day, and so the third:

    Then did I try, in vain, the crowds resort,

    In deep despair by frightful wishes stirrd,

    he sea-side I reached a ruined fort:

    There, pains whiature could no more support,

    With blindness linked, did on my vitals fall;

    Dizzy my brain, with interruption short

    Of hideous sense; I sunk, nor step could crawl,

    And thence was borne away to neighb hospital.

    Recovery came with food: but still, my brain

    Was weak, nor of the past had memory.

    I heard my neighbours, in their beds, plain

    Of many things whiever troubled me;

    Of feet still bustling round with busy glee,

    Of looks where on kindness had no part,

    Of service doh careless cruelty,

    Fretting the fever round the languid heart,

    And groans, which, as they said, would make a dead man start.

    These things just served to stir the torpid sense,

    Nor pain nor pity in my bosom raised.

    Memory, though slow, returned with strength; and thence

    Dismissed, again on open day I gazed,

    At houses, men, and on light, amaze<samp>..</samp>d.

    The lanes I sought, and as the suired,

    Came, where beh the trees a faggot blazed;

    The wild brood saw me weep, my fate enquired,

    And gave me food, a, more wele, more desired.

    My heart is touched to think that men like these,

    The rude earths tenants, were my ?rst relief:

    How kindly did they paint their vagrant ease!

    And their long holiday that feared not grief,

    For all beloo all, and each was chief.

    No plough their sinews strained; on grating road

    No wain they drove, ahe yellow sheaf

    In every vale for their delight was stowed:

    For them, in natures meads, the milky udder ?owed.

    Semblance, with straauniered ass, they made

    Of potters wandering on from door to door:

    But life of happier sort to me pourtrayed,

    And other joys my fancy to allure;

    The bag-pipe dinning on the midnight moor

    In barn uplighted, and panions boon

    Well met from far with revelry secure,

    Ih of forest glade, when jod June

    Rolled fast along the sky his warm and genial moon.

    But ill it suited me, in journey dark

    Oer moor and mountain, midnight theft to hatch;

    To charm the surly house-dogs faithful bark.

    Or hang on tiptoe at the lifted latch;

    The gloomy lantern, and the dim blue match,

    The black disguise, the warning whistle shrill,

    And ear still busy on its nightly watch,

    Were not for me, brought up in nothing ill;

    Besides, on griefs so fresh my thoughts were brooding still.

    What could I do, unaided and u?

    Poor Father! gone was every friend of thine:

    And kindred of dead husband are at best

    Small help, and, after marriage such as mine,

    With little kindness would to me ine.

    Ill was I then for toil or service ?t:

    With tears whose course no effort could e,

    By high-way side fetful would I sit

    Whole hours, my idle arms in moping sorrow knit.

    I lived upon the mercy of the ?elds,

    And oft of cruelty the sky accused;

    On hazard, or what general bounty yields,

    Now coldly given, now utterly refused,

    The ?elds I for my bed have often used:

    But, what af?icts my peace with kee ruth

    Is, that I have my inner self abused,

    Fohe home delight of stant truth,

    And clear and open soul, so prized in fearless youth.

    Three years a wanderer, often have I viewd,

    In tears, the sun towards that try tend

    Where my poor heart lost all its fortitude:

    And now across this moor my steps I bend--

    Oh! tell me whither--for hly friend

    Have I.--She ceased, and weeping turned away,

    As if because her tale was at an end

    She wept;--because she had no more to say

    Of that perpetual weight whi her spirit lay.

    <span style="cray">[2] Several of the Lakes in the north of England are let out todifferent Fishermen, in parcels marked out by imaginary linesdrawn from rock to rock.</span>

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