Yet, as I'm spar'd, though in this piteous case,
I'm tray'ling homeward to my native place;
Though should I reach that dear remember'd spot,
Perhaps OLD GRAINGER will be quite forgot.'

All eyes beheld young _George_ with wonder start:
Strong were the secret bodings of his heart;
Yet not indulg'd: for he with doubts survey'd
By turns the Stranger, and the lovely Maid.
'Had you no Children?'--'Yes, young Man; I'd two:
A _Boy_, if still he lives, as old as you:

_The Discovery_.

Yet not my own; but likely so to prove;
Though but the pledge of an unlawful Love:
I cherish'd him, to hide a _Sister's_ shame:
He shar'd my best affections, and my name.
But why, young folks, should I detain you here?
Go; and may blessings wait upon your cheer:
I too will travel on;--perhaps to find
The only treasure that I left behind.
Such kindly thoughts my fainting hopes revive!--
_Phoebe_, my Cherub, ART _thou_ still alive?'

Could Nature hold!--Could youthful Love forbear!
_George_ clasp'd the wond'ring _Maid_, and whisper'd, '_There_!
_You're mine for, ever_!--O, sustain the rest;
And hush the tumult of your throbbing breast.'
Then to the _Soldier_ turn'd, with manly pride,