Poor foolish child! how pleased was I
When news of Nelson's victory came,
Along the crowded streets to fly,
And see the lighted windows flame!
To force me home my mother sought,
She could not bear to see my joy;
For with my father's life 'twas bought,
And made me a poor orphan boy.
The people's shouts were long and loud,
My mother, shuddering, closed her ears;
"Rejoice! rejoice!" still cried the crowd;
My mother answered with her tears.
"Why are you crying thus," said I,
"While others laugh and shout with joy?"
She kissed me—and with such a sigh!
She called me her poor orphan boy.
"What is an orphan boy?" I cried,
As in her face I looked, and smiled;
My mother through her tears replied,
"You'll know too soon, ill-fated child!"
And now they've tolled my mother's knell,
And I'm no more a parent's joy;
O lady, I have learned too well
What 'tis to be an orphan boy!
Oh! were I by your bounty fed!
Nay, gentle lady, do not chide—
Trust me, I mean to earn my bread;
The sailor's orphan boy has pride.
Lady, you weep!—ha?—this to me?
You'll give me clothing, food, employ?
Look down, dear parents! look, and see
Your happy, happy, orphan boy!
One of the occupations of her childhood was so unusual that it excites astonishment. The coming
