QUae GENUS cried--"my Father lives!"

Wonder and Grat.i.tude and Fainting Were there combin'd--what could be wanting To make the melting scene complete, But coffin and a winding-sheet?

Nor were those symbols long to seek, For, in a short and happy week, Which was in warm affection past, The exulting Father breath'd his last.

[Ill.u.s.tration: QUae GENUS DISCOVERS HIS FATHER.]

Here then we make a pause to ask How Fortune will achieve its task, And, to indulge the curious view, What track the Fancy must pursue, From such a change in the affairs Of the poor Foundling on the stairs.

Whether the pa.s.sions active strife Will check repose and trouble life; Whether the inmate of his breast Will lead to turbulence or rest, Make him repose beneath the shade At ease and indolently laid; Whether the mind will yield to pleasure In that seducing form and measure, Which strews temptations ev'ry hour And gold commands with ready power: --But other notions we had brought The proofs of our prophetic thought; That, not without a gleam of pride, He would chuse Reason for his guide.

When with a plenteous income arm'd And hospitable bosom warm'd, He from the gay world would retire And turn into a Country 'Squire; Then, with those charms which heighten life, And blossom in a pleasing wife, Enjoy that calm and tranquil state } That does on Independence wait, } Nor spurns the low, nor courts the great: } And though not from those frailties free The Lot of man's infirmity, He might pa.s.s on to rev'rend age, And die a Christian and a sage.

--Thus we our Hero's picture drew As hope inspir'd, for future view, Such as the coming years might see, Such as we hop'd that he would be.

But soon appear'd a threat'ning storm That did the expected scene deform, And many a cloud began to lour That veils the intellectual hour, Though gleams of light would oft controul The darksome chaos of the soul: And a bright, instantaneous ray Would gild a cloud and chear the day; And now and then a serious thought Was to its proper object brought.

Whene'er, oppress'd with sudden gloom, In solemn steps he pac'd the room; Then, his looks beaming with content, He turn'd to Joy and Merriment, And Reason, for a wav'ring hour, Would seem to re-a.s.sume its power.

Yet social habits he disclaim'd, Wept when he prais'd, laugh'd when he blam'd, And, sometimes frowning, would declare Life was not worth the liver's care.

--Whether it was the sudden change, So unexpected and so strange, Or the accession large of wealth Broke in upon his reason's health, Or the concussion of his brain } Which the night's frolic did sustain, } Our science knows not to explain. } Old _Betty_ thought it must be Love, Which she would undertake to prove, As in his freaks that seem'd like folly He sung and danc'd and talk'd of _Molly_, And frequently was seen to scrawl Figures in chalk upon the wall, Then fancy that he scatter'd flowers And sat in gay and fragrant bowers.

--Whate'er the hidden cause might be, } No sage experience could foresee } A cure for his Infirmity. } He now grew worse from day to day, And Nature hasten'd to decay: It soon was seen, no art could save QUae GENUS from an early grave.

--Old _Vellum_ did not quit his care And _Betty Broom_ was always there.

The FOUNDLING'S Life she had attended, As it began, and as it ended: His earliest days her cares embrac'd, Her aged eyes wept o'er his last: They did his dying hour behold!

--Reader Farewell,----The Story's told!

THE END