The little History.

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.