Feeling a strange and solemn sympathy. 
The woman musing said—­“She knew full well
Where the old people came at last to dwell;
They had a married daughter, and a son,
But they were dead, and now remain’d not one.” 
   “Yes,” said an elder, who had paused intent
On days long past, “there was a sad event; —
One of these Booths—­it was my mother’s tale —
Here left his lass, I know not where to sail: 
She saw their parting, and observed the pain;
But never came th’ unhappy man again:” 
“The ship was captured”—­Allen meekly said,
“And what became of the forsaken maid?”
The woman answer’d:  “I remember now,
She used to tell the lasses of her vow,
And of her lover’s loss, and I have seen
The gayest hearts grow sad where she bas been;
Yet in her grief she married, and was made
Slave to a wretch, whom meekly she obey’d,
And early buried—­but I know no more: 
And hark! our friends are hast’ning to the shore.” 
   Allen soon found a lodging in the town,
And walk’d a man unnoticed up and down,
This house, and this, he knew, and thought a face
He sometimes could among a number trace: 
Of names remember’d there remain’d a few,
But of no favourites, and the rest were new: 
A merchant’s wealth, when Allen went to sea,
Was reckon’d boundless.—­Could he living be? 
Or lived his son? for one he had, the heir
To a vast business, and a fortune fair. 
No! but that heir’s poor widow, from her shed,
With crutches went to take her dole of bread: 
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 woeful 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,
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: 
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.