There was a friend whom he had left a boy,
With hope to sail the master of a hoy;
Him, after many a stormy day, he found
With his great wish, his life's whole purpose, crown'd. This hoy's proud captain look'd in Allen's face,"Yours is, my friend,” said he, “a woful case; "We cannot all succeed: I now command "The Betsy sloop, and am not much at land; "But when we meet, you shall your story tell "Of foreign parts-I bid you now farewell!"
Allen so long had left his native shore, (1) He saw but few whom he had seen before; The older people, as they met him, cast A pitying look, oft speaking as they pass'd"The man is Allen Booth, and it appears "He dwelt among us in his early years:
(1) [Original MS. : —
Oft to his children had the father told
Where he resided in the years of old;
When, without thought, his feeling and his pride
The native town adorn'd and magnified;
The streets, the markets, and the quays were all
Spacious and grand, and every building tall:
The tower and church were sea-marks leagues from land
Men were amazed to see them look so grand!
His father's house was then in Allen's eyes,
But far increased in beauty and in size;
And their small area where the schoolboys play'd,
Room for an army had his fancy made :
But now the dark and feeble mind debased,
Contracted, sullied all that fancy graced,
All spaces dwindled -streets but alleys seem'd:
Then dreamt he now, or absent had he dream'd?
The church itself, the lofty tower, the scene
Of so much glory, was debased and mean:
The mind each object in dull clothing dress'd,
And its own sadness on each scene impress'd.]
"We see the name engraved upon the stones,
"Where this poor wanderer means to lay his bones.”
Thus where he lived and loved-unhappy change!-
He seems a stranger, and finds all are strange.
But now a Widow, in a village near,
Chanced of the melancholy man to hear;
Old as she was, to Judith's bosom came
Some strong emotions at the well-known name;
He was her much-loved Allen, she had stay'd
Ten troubled years, a sad afflicted maid;
Then was she wedded, of his death assured,
And much of mis'ry in her lot endured;
Her husband died; her children sought their bread
In various places, and to her were dead.
The once fond lovers met; not grief nor age,
Sickness or pain, their hearts could disengage:
Each had immediate confidence; a friend
Both now beheld, on whom they might depend:
"Now is there one to whom I can express
My nature's weakness, and my soul's distress." Allen look'd up, and with impatient heart— "Let me not lose thee-never let us part: "So Heaven this comfort to my sufferings give, "It is not all distress to think and live." Thus Allen spoke-for time had not removed The charms attach'd to one so fondly loved; Who with more health, the mistress of their cot, Labours to soothe the evils of his lot. To her, to her alone, his various fate, At various times, 'tis comfort to relate;
And yet his sorrow-she too loves to hear
What wrings her bosom, and compels the tear.
First he related how he left the shore,
Alarm'd with fears that they should meet no more:
Then, ere the ship had reach'd her purposed course,
They met and yielded to the Spanish force;
Then 'cross th' Atlantic seas they bore their prey,
Who grieving landed from their sultry bay;
And marching many a burning league, he found
Himself a slave upon a miner's ground:
There a good priest his native language spoke,
And gave some ease to his tormenting yoke;
Kindly advanced him in his master's grace,
And he was station'd in an easier place:
There, hopeless ever to escape the land,
He to a Spanish maiden gave his hand;
In cottage shelter'd from the blaze of day,
He saw his happy infants round him play;
Where summer shadows, made by lofty trees,
Waved o'er his seat, and soothed his reveries;
E'en then he thought of England, nor could sigh,
But his fond Isabel demanded, "Why?"
Grieved by the story, she the sigh repaid,
And wept in pity for the English maid:
Thus twenty years were pass'd, and pass'd his views,
Of further bliss, for he had wealth to lose:
His friend now dead, some foe had dared to paint "His faith as tainted: he his spouse would taint; "Make all his children infidels, and found "An English heresy on Christian ground."
"Whilst I was poor," said Allen, “none would
"What my poor notions of religion were;
"None ask'd me whom I worshipp'd, how I pray'd,
“If due obedience to the laws were paid:
"My good adviser taught me to be still,
"Nor to make converts had I power or will.
"I preach'd no foreign doctrine to my wife,
"And never mention'd Luther in my
life;
"I, all they said, say what they would, allow'd,
"And when the fathers bade me bow, I bow'd;
"Their forms I follow'd, whether well or sick,
"And was a most obedient Catholic.
"But I had money, and these pastors found
My notions vague, heretical, unsound:
"A wicked book they seized; the very Turk
"Could not have read a more pernicious work;
"To me pernicious, who if it were good
"Or evil question'd not, nor understood:
"Oh! had I little but the book possess'd,
"I might have read it, and enjoy'd my rest."
Alas! poor Allen-through his wealth was seen Crimes that by poverty conceal'd had been: Faults that in dusty pictures rest unknown Are in an instant through the varnish shown.
He told their cruel mercy; how at last,
In Christian kindness for the merits past,
They spared his forfeit life, but bade him fly,
Or for his crime and contumacy die;
Fly from all scenes, all objects of delight:
His wife, his children, weeping in his sight,
All urging him to flee, he fled, and cursed his flight.
He next related how he found a way,
Guideless and grieving, to Campeachy-Bay:
There in the woods he wrought, and there, among
Some lab'ring seamen, heard his native tongue :
The sound, one moment, broke upon his pain
With joyful force; he long'd to hear again:
Again he heard; he seized an offer'd hand,
"And when beheld you last our native land!"
He cried, "and in what country? quickly say"-
The seamen answer'd-strangers all were they ;
One only at his native port had been;
He, landing once, the quay and church had seen,
For that esteem'd; but nothing more he knew.
Still more to know, would Allen join the crew,
Sail where they sail'd, and, many a peril past,
They at his kinsman's isle their anchor cast;
But him they found not, nor could one relate
Aught of his will, his wish, or his estate.
This grieved not Allen; then again he sail'd
For England's coast, again his fate prevail'd:
War raged, and he, an active man and strong,
Was soon impress'd, and served his country long.
By various shores he pass'd, on various seas,
Never so happy as when void of ease.—
And then he told how in a calm distress'd,
Day after day his soul was sick of rest;
When, as a log upon the deep they stood,
Then roved his spirit to the inland wood;
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