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,