85
At length I to the Boy call'd out,
He stopp'd his horses at the word;
But neither cry, nor voice, nor shout,
Nor aught else like it could be heard.
He stopp'd his horses at the word;
But neither cry, nor voice, nor shout,
Nor aught else like it could be heard.
The Boy then smack'd his whip, and fast
The horses scamper'd through the rain;
And soon I heard upon the blast
The voice, and bade him halt again.
The horses scamper'd through the rain;
And soon I heard upon the blast
The voice, and bade him halt again.
Said I, alighting on the ground,
"What can it be, this piteous moan?"
And there a little Girl I found,
Sitting behind the Chaise, alone.
"What can it be, this piteous moan?"
And there a little Girl I found,
Sitting behind the Chaise, alone.
"My Cloak!" the word was last and first,
And loud and bitterly she wept,
As if her very heart would burst;
And down from off the Chaise she leapt.
And loud and bitterly she wept,
As if her very heart would burst;
And down from off the Chaise she leapt.
