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ABJECT, stooping, old, and wan,
See yon wretched beggar man;
Once a father's hopeful heir,
Once a mother's tender care,
When too young to understand,
He but scorched his little hand,
By the candle's flaming light
Attracted, dancing, spiral, bright;
Clasping fond her darling round,
A thousand kisses healed the wound.
Now, abject, stooping, old, and wan,
No mother tends the beggar man.

Then nought too good for him to wear,
With cherub face and flaxen hair,
In fancy's choicest gauds arrayed,
Cap of lace, with rose to aid,
Milk-white hat with feather blue,
Shoes of red, and coral too,
With silver bells to please his ear,
And charm the frequent, ready tear.
Now, abject, stooping, old, and wan,
Neglected is the beggar man.

2 LULLABY ON AN INFANT CHIEF.

See the boy advance in age,
And learning spreads her useful page;
In vain for giddy pleasure calls,
And shows the marbles, tops, and balls.
What's learning to the charms of play 2
The indulgent tutor must give way.
A heedless, wilful dunce, and wild,
The parents' fondness spoiled the child
The youth in vagrant courses ran.
Now, abject, stooping, old, and wan,
Their fondling is the beggar man.

LULLABY ON AN INFANT CHIEF. — W. Scott.

O, HUSH thee, my baby, thy sire was a knight,
Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright;
The woods and the glens, from the towers which we
see,
They all are belonging, dear baby, to thee.

O, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, it calls but the warders that guard thy repose; Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red, Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed.

O, hush thee, my baby, the time will soon come

When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum; Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may, For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day.

THE REAPER'S CHILD. — Miss Lamb.

If you go to the field where the reapers now bind
The sheaves of ripe corn, there a fine little lass

Only three months of age, by the hedge-row you’ll find
Left alone by its mother upon the low grass. .

While the mother is reaping, the infant is sleeping; Not the basket that holds the provision is less,

By the hard-working reaper, than this little sleeper, Regarded, till hunger does on the babe press.

Then it opens its eyes, and it utters loud cries,
Which its hard-working mother afar off will hear;

She comes at its calling, she quiets its squalling,
And feeds it, and leaves it again without fear.

When you were as young as this field-nursed daughter, You were fed in the house and brought up on the knee; So tenderly watched, thy fond mother thought her Whole time well bestowed in nursing of thee.

FEIGNED COURAGE. Miss Lamb.

HoRATIo, of ideal courage vain,
Was flourishing in air his father's cane,
And, as the fumes of valor swelled his pate,
Now thought himself this hero, and now that;
“And now,” he cried, “I will Achilles be;
My sword I brandish ; see the Trojans flee

B

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