University of Virginia Library

Hie o'er the sward, my faithful Tray,
There lies thy wandering master's way,
And dreary is the path;
A lonely cot thy master seeks,
Where no enlivening chimney reeks,
No circle crowns the hearth:
Hie o'er the green-sward, hie thee, boy—
Swift is thy course—so flew my joy!

Hie o'er the sward, my faithful Tray;
Ah! once transporting was the way,
Though now 'tis woeful wild!
That cot appear'd bedeck'd with flowers,
The social hearth beguil'd the hours,
And she, my heart's love, smil'd.
Hie o'er the green-sward, hie thee, boy—
My heart's love droop'd—then droop'd my joy!

Hie o'er the sward, my faithful Tray;
No longer hope beguiles the way,
Thy tricks my only cheer;
The bat now nestles in that thatch,
And echo answers to the latch
Which opes that door so drear!
Hie o'er the green-sward, hie thee, boy,
That lonely door is clos'd to joy.

He ceas'd, she sigh'd; he dried the tears she shed;
For soft her heart, in artless nature bred;
And woe, or real or fictitious, drew
Tears from those eyes whose power fond Hubert knew.
No sounds the place of silence now usurp,
Save the log's crackling, and the cricket's chirp;
The smug cat's purr, and snore of honest Tray,
At lazy length stretch'd out, who, sleeping lay;
Pure, social, sounds; that mock the excluded breeze,
And tell of comfort snug, and careless ease:
Ellen the fire view'd, tracing figures there;
And Hubert sat contemplating the fair;
When fierce and sudden, at the lowly door,
A blow made Hubert start, and stride the floor;
Quickly 'twas open, and, so black the night,
They had not seen, but for the faggot's light,
A basket small, with linen girt around;
And quickly Hubert bore it from the ground;
Secur'd the door, and to his wond'ring dame
Expos'd the basket, and the owner's shame;
For in it, wrapp'd in satin, and in sleep,
A beauteous infant lay, their lot to keep;
At length, “a boy” the eager Ellen cried;
“A chopping boy” th' astonish'd hind replied:
“A beauteous boy,” rejoining, Ellen cries,
“Ah! who could leave it, lovely as it lies,
“At such a door, on such a night of dread?
“Beshrew that heart, and horror on that head,
“Which plann'd, and could in such a crime take part—
“Hard lie that head, and heavy beat that heart!
“Sweet innocent! he wakes—O, Hubert, view—
“His eyes are open; bright, and lovely blue;
“He smiles, he clasps my finger: sweet, sweet, child!
“Bless thee!”—a kiss all further speech beguil'd:
Hubert beheld; to his enraptured view
More beauteous as benevolent she grew;
And where her lips had press'd his lips are gone,
And then, impatient, hurry to her own.
O, happy Hubert! two such sweets to prove,
The kiss of innocence, and kiss of love!
Pure was the picture at the cottage fire,
Such eager angels linger to admire;
He clasping both, the group supreme in charms,
Beauty and innocence in honour's arms.
Ellen broke silence—“Hubert” (and she smiled,)
“Be ours to rear this unprotected child;
“From hence who knows what benefits may spring?
“A God-send this, and God-sends good luck bring.”
Now, from its envelope the infant free,
Something falls bulkily from Ellen's knee;
Hubert espies it, 'tis a purse of weight!
“Gold! gold!” he cries, and tosses it, elate;
“Gold! gold!” he cries, “to keep thee, babe, 'twas given,
“But had it not been there thou still hadst thriven.
“And here's a paper—Read it,” Ellen cried—
The child cried too; and Hubert's knee supplied
A ready bed, his arm a pillow good;
While Ellen hastened to prepare its food;
The billet Hubert pocketed with speed,
Restless the child, and that no time to read.