For a small peculiar birth-mark was apparent on her arm.

Had I lost her? Was it possible ever more now to regain her?

Would he spurn me, and restrain her with his wily golden charm?

All that night my heart was bitter with unutterable anguish,

And I cried out in my slumber till with my words I woke:

"How long, O Lord, must poverty bow down its head and languish,

While wrong, with wealth to garnish it, makes strong the heavy yoke?"

 [Pg 14] IX. THE MISER.

[Pg 14]

'Tis said, that when he saw his child,

And saw the proof that she was his,

The first in many a year he smiled,

And pressed upon her brow a kiss.

In both his hands her hand he bound,

And led her gayly through his place.

He said the dead years circled round,

Hers was so like her mother's face.

He scarcely moves him from her side—

Her every hour with joy beguiles.

To make the gulf between us wide,

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