A poor old Man, foot-founder'd and alone,
Thus urgent spoke, in Trouble's genuine tone:
'My pretty Maid, if happiness you seek,
May disappointment never fade your cheek!--
Your's be the joy;--yet, feel another's woe;
O leave some little, gift before you go.'
His words struck home; and back she turn'd again,
(The ready friend of indigence and pain,)
To banish hunger from his shatter'd frame;
And close behind her, lo, the _Miller_, came,
With Jug in hand, and cried, 'GEORGE, why such haste?
Here, take a draught; and let that _Soldier_ taste.'
'Thanks for your bounty, Sir,' the _Veteran_ said;
Threw down his Wallet, and made bare his head;
And straight began, though mix'd with doubts and fears,
Th' unprefac'd History of his latter years,
'I cross'd th' _Atlantic_ with our Regiment, brave,
Where Sickness sweeps whole Regiments to the grave;

_The Surprise_.

Yet I've escap'd; and bear my arms no more;
My age discharg'd me when I came on shore.
My Wife, I've heard,'--and here he wip'd his eyes,---
'In the cold corner of the Church-yard lies.
By her consent it was I left my home:
Employment fail'd, and poverty waa come;
The Bounty tempted me;--she had it all:
We parted; and I've seen my betters fall.