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Ellen
dressed in a Red Cloak, with a Basket of Fruit in her hand. Quite
alter'd now we Ellen find, Obliging, good, attentive, kind, The
good old dame who nurs'd her well, Sent her with choicest fruit
to sell; A carriage pass'd her on the road, At sight of which her
cheeks they glow'd, Trembling she stood 'twixt hope and fear, While
silent roll'd the burning tear; Mamma scream'd out, with rapture
wild, She caught the features of her child; The door was open'd,
out she sprung, And round her neck poor Ellen clung, Papa to kiss
her would not deign, He sternly bade her stray again, Go try once
more their hearts to break; These words with falt'ring voice he
spake, For he her downcast look observ'd, Of grief for anger well
deserv'd, Her humble penitence his love regains, And Ellen pardon
soon obtains; Alternately she's now caress'd, By both fond parents
truly blest.
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