But cause of tears was rarely found; For all my heart was youthful glee : But ah! there came a war they say. I thought, nor could I thence foresce That when the kiss of love went round, There soon would be no kiss for me. A scarlet coat my father took, And sword as bright as bright could be; And feathers, that so gaily look, All in a shining cap had he. Then how my little heart did bound! Alas! I thought it fine to see; Nor dreamt that when the kiss went round, There soon should be no kiss for me.. At length the bell again did ring; My My mother shriek'd: her heart was woe But once again—but once again, So now I am an orphan boy, With nought below my heart to cheer ;: And when the kiss of love goes round, THELWALL The Beggar Man. AROUND the fire one wintry night When, hark! a gentle hand they hear "Cold blows the blast across the moor, " 'My eyes are weak and dim with age, "So faint I am-these tottering feet No more my palsied frame can bear; My freezing heart forgets to beat, And drifting snows my tomb prepare. " Open your hospitable door, With hasty step the farmer ran, The The little children flocking came And chaf'd his frozen hands in theirs, A comfortable mess prepares. Their kindness cheer'd his drooping soul, The children too began to sigh, The Piedmontese and his Marmot. FROM my dear native moorlands, for many a day, Thro' fields and thro' cities I've wander'd away. Tho' I merrily sing, yet forlorn is my lot; I'm a poor Piedmontese, and I show a marmot. This pretty marmot in a mountain's steep side Made a burrow, himself and his young ones to hide. The bottom they cover'd with moss and with hay, And stopp'd up the entrance, and snugly they lay. They carelessly slept till the cold winter blast, And the hail, and the deep drifting snow-shower was past; But the warbling of April awak'd them again To crop the young plants and to frisk on the plain. Then I caught this poor fellow and taught him to dance, And we liv'd by his tricks as we rambled thro France. But he droops and grows drowsy as onward we roam, And he and his master both pine for their home. The poor Piedmontese with his harmless marmot. |