University of Virginia Library

THE WORKHOUSE ORPHAN

A Tale

Some childish memorys linger while were men
Or pains or pleasures as they touchd us then
Freshing with knowledge as our feelings will
Till manhood comes & there they linger still
Old shepherd robin childish ere he dyd
I knew him well & every boy beside
For he has joind our sports with childish glee
& seemd as happy in our mirth as we
He twirld the top & boasted in the powers
To jelt his pebble farther off then ours
& smild in raptures as we praisd his skill
While making willow whistles or a mill
& large keck trumpets—powers he lovd to show
& much delighted learning us to blow
& tales hed tell us while he tended sheep
We wept to hear & he himself woud weep
For tales of sorrows he woud often tell
& one that touchd as I remember well
He often told it nor left grief to cold
& still it warms me when it last was told
Twas moaning autumn in her oldest hours
When we'd spent many vainly seeking flowers
& found him pottering from the rising wind
To the best shelter which the fields coud find
We joind his steps & dissapointments sighd
& sought a tree & sat us by his side
‘Childern he said the autumns withering hours
‘Has snatchd away your summer & your flowers
‘Far different this to summers warmer day
‘When with my hook I reachd yon boughs of may
‘& tyd with rushes easy gatherd flowers
‘Far different those to these decaying hours
‘Yellow are leaves half naked is the bough
‘& neer a blossom has the pasture now
‘So be content & spend an hour with me
‘Ill tell a tale that like the time shall be
‘A tale of tender sorrows which I've told
‘Times out of number both to young & old
‘Poor Mary Lee she was a child with me
‘& one for sorrow she was born to be
‘A hard & cruel world in this she found
‘She met its vice & sunk beneath the wound
‘She sunk but kept her hopes nor feard to find
‘The hard ill usuage which she left behind
‘Nor livd she long leaves oft have left the tree
‘Reminding mortals what their end must be
‘& grass & weeds have often spread anew
‘On other graves since first on hers they grew
‘Tho wide the world were early hope depends
‘Poor Mary met it destitute of friends
‘Left a lorn orphan when her years was few
‘& parish pity was too early due
‘I had a mother but in shame was born
‘She married after but I kept the scorn
‘& she had boys which she as mother prizd
‘But her first born was born to be despisd
‘With Mary Lee the parish was my lot
‘& its cold bounty all the friends I got
‘Dragd from our childhoods pleasures & its plays
‘We pind in workhouse sorrows many days
‘Were many wants recievd their scant supply
‘Were pity never came to check the sigh
‘Save what laws force from tyrant overseers
‘Whose bitter gifts was purchasd with our tears
‘There ragd & starvd & workd beyond our powers
‘We toild those hours you spend in gathering flowers
‘Nor mothers smiles had we our toils to cheer
‘But tyrants frowns & threatnings ever near
‘Who beat enfeebld weakness many times
‘& scoft misfortunes agonys as crimes
‘While prides vain childern of a luckier race
‘Were taught to shun our presence as disgrace
‘Thus workhouse misery did we both abide
‘Till our own strength its poverty supplyd
‘& service freed us—freedom did we find
‘In labour there to slavery left behind
‘& Mary grew in spite of every harm
‘To womanhood & not without its charm
‘Tho pride to me was not of scorn bereft
‘& yet disdaind me thro the fate I left
‘It smild on her & she believd the praise
‘Of men that wrongd her in her helpless days
‘& soon she found she did too soon believe
‘That worst of foes befriending to decieve
‘A big young coxcomb farmer Follys son
‘Wisperd in secret how his heart was won
‘& Mary sure the person must admire
‘Of one whose manners apd the country squire
‘Who mockd gentility with dog & gun
‘& quirkd the fields as many such have done
‘Were humbler gents their leisure to amuse
‘From this pretender oft recievd abuse
‘Branding the honest with a poachers blame
‘While he himself deservd a viler name
‘He robd the game with freedom unreservd
‘For which his betters paid to be preservd
‘& on these walks when mary sought her cows
‘He sought his chances & renewd his vows
‘Were soon his civil flatterys gaind their end
‘While he with pride oft entertaind a friend
‘With bragging storys how the fool was won
‘& laughd it off & calld it precious fun
‘At length by time convincd awakend fears
‘There follys learnd & she implord in tears
‘While the vile wretch ere she her griefs begun
‘Scoft her with names for guilt himself had done
‘& at those tears which shame coud not depress
‘He sneerd & mutterd “Strumpets meet distress”
‘So worser fate & added griefs to shun
‘Force sought the dungeon were they first begun
‘Griefs harmless then now torturd with disgrace
‘Their shamless misery now a hiding place
‘Worse was her lot & humbler was her fees
‘When justice faild her tyrants power to teaze
‘Want wins its favour tho oft slow to win
‘But reason guides it to discourage sin
‘Forcd as the father to the child he paid
‘But left to want its mother he betrayd
‘Boys when yere men have better pride to feel
‘Then wound a heart ye never mean to heal
‘Now pind & starvd despisd by all she knew
‘Too weak for toil yet wishing to pursue
‘Some means for life now linkd with tender tye
‘Which but for that had been a joy to dye
‘She made her matches & her burthen bore
‘To seek compassion at a strangers door
‘But pity deigns not with the proud to live
‘& poor that feel it have not power to give
‘Small was the sum her last rescource supplyd
‘& did but little for her wants provide
‘& wragd & wretched from sad misereys shed
‘While yielding paths betrayd a shoeless tread
‘She oft was seen to wander round the fields
‘& sought the berrys which the autumn yields
‘Feeding with birds that twitterd by her side
‘Content to spare her what the proud denyd
‘Thus oft half famishd she from town sojournd
‘& went one morning nor at eve returnd
‘Search soon was made—tho one of small respect
‘Yet feard disgrace forbid them to neglect
‘While one heart doubtless in its hopes was high
‘That fate had freed him & expence was bye
‘Nor if that heart coud be were hopes unblest
‘Search found the mother & the child had rest
‘But reasons abscence did her griefs beguile
‘& madness gave her sorrow strength to smile
‘She kissd it oft & offerd succour still
‘& held it to her bosom cold & chill
‘Then moand & bowd as one that trys to weep
‘& smild agen & hushd its endless sleep
‘Poor perish'd child what it had lingerd in
‘& that night sufferd for anothers sin
‘To see such horrors made me quite distrest
‘For I was one to seek her with the rest
‘As weakness to return that night denyd
‘She crept for shelter which the fields supplyd
‘& found an hovel were shed seemly taen
‘Grass for her infants cradle pulld in vain
‘She seemd to know me but she never spoke
‘Yet wishd it seemd to tell her heart was broke
‘For to her heart she oft her hand woud bear
‘& lookd more piteous as she placd it there
‘Again we took her to misfortunes den
‘But joys or sorrows knew no difference then
‘Pride now felt pity when she coud not live
‘& gave its trifle when too late to give
‘No reason ere returnd to feel the ill
‘& death soon came & made her happier still
‘There luckless mary had of pain its share
‘There life met grief & parted with despair
‘In the cold grave from every ill she slept
‘Nor felt the distance which distinction kept
‘North side the church no choice will occupy
‘Force finds the workhouse tenants room to lye
‘Where cold winds frown & sunbeams never come
‘There mary rested in a better home
‘A lone cold corner by the charnell pent
‘Were nettles spread her only monument
‘Childern ye weep but few the years yeve met
‘& reasons young to think of sorrows yet
‘But when yere men & infants climb your knee
‘Then will ye feel & think of Mary Lee’