THE FEMALE VAGRANT.

By Derwents side my Fathers cottage stood,

(The Woman thus her artless story told)

One ?eld, a ?ock, and what the neighbouring ?ood

Supplied, to him were more than mines of gold.

Light was my sleep; my days in transport rolld:

With thoughtless joy I stretchd along the shore

My fathers nets, or watched, when from the fold

High oer the cliffs I led my ?eecy store,

A dizzy depth below! his boat and twinkling oar.

My father was a good and pious man,

An honest man by honest parents bred,

And I believe that, soon as I began

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