The Works of the British Poets, Selected and Chronologically Arranged...: From Falconer to Sir Walter Scott

She happier days has known, but seems at ease,
And you may call her lady, if you please :
But if you wish, good sister, to improve,
You shall see twenty better worth your love."
These Nancy met; but, spite of all they taught,
This useless widow was the one she sought:
The father growl'd; but said he knew no harm
In such connexion that could give alarm :
"And if we thwart the trifler in her course,
Tis odds against us she will take a worse."

And I confess, it shocks my pride to tell
The secrets of the prison where I dwell;
For that dear maiden would be shock'd to feel
The secrets I should shudder to reveal ;
When told her friend was by a parent ask'd,
Fed you the swine? Good heaven! how I am task'd!
What! can you smile! Ah! smile not at the grief
That woos your pity and demands relief."

"Trifles, my love; yon take a false alarm; Think, I beseech you, better of the farm:

And light are those that will require it there: Fix on the youth a favouring eye, and these, To him pertaining, or as his, will please."

Then met the friends; the widow heard the sigh Duties in every state demand your care,
That ask'd at once compassion and reply.
"Would you, my child, converse with one so poor,
Yours were the kindness-yonder is my door;
And, save the time that we in public pray,
From that poor cottage I but rarely stray."
There went the nymph, and made her strong
complaints,

Painting her wo as injured feeling paints.

"O, dearest friend! do think how one must feel,
Shock'd all day long, and sicken'd every meal!
Could you behold our kitchen, (and to you
A scene so shocking must indeed be new,)
A mind like yours, with true refinement graced,
Would let no vulgar scenes pollute your taste;
And yet, in truth, from such a polish'd mind
All base ideas must resistance find,
And sordid pictures from the fancy pass,
As the breath startles from the polish'd glass.
Here you enjoy a sweet romantic scene,
Without so pleasant, and within so clean;
These twining jess'mines, what delicious gloom
And soothing fragrance yield they to the room!
What lovely garden! there you oft retire,
And tales of wo and tenderness admire:
In that neat case, your books, in order placed,
Soothe the full soul, and charm the cultured taste;
And thus, while all about you wears a charm,
How must you scorn the farmer and the farm!"
The widow smiled, and "Know you not," said she,
"How much these farmers scorn or pity me;
Who see what you admire, and laugh at all they
see?

True, their opinion alters not my fate,
By falsely judging of an humble state :
This garden, you with such delight behold,
Tempts not a feeble dame who dreads the cold;
These plants, which please so well your livelier

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What words," the lass replied, "offend my ear! Try you my patience? Can you be sincere ? And am I told a willing hand to give To a rude farmer, and with rustic live? Far other fate was yours: some gentle youth, Admired your beauty, and avow'd his truth; The power of love prevail'd, and freely both Gave the fond heart, and pledged the binding oath; And then the rival's plot, the parent's power, And jealous fears, drew on the happy hour: Ah! let not memory lose the blissful view, But fairly show what love has done for you."

"Agreed, my daughter, what my heart has known Of love's strange power shall be with frankness shown:

But let me warn you, that experience finds
Few of the scenes that lively hope designs."

Mysterious all," said Nancy; "you, I know, Have suffer'd much; now deign the grief to show I am your friend, and so prepare my heart In all your sorrows to receive a part."

The widow answer'd, “I had once, like you,
Such thoughts of love; no dream is more untrue:
You judge it fated and decreed to dwell
In youthful hearts, which nothing can expel,
A passion doom'd to reign, and irresistible.
The struggling mind, when once subdued, in vain
Rejects the fury or defies the pain;

The strongest reason fails the flame t'allay,
And resolution droops and faints away:
Hence, when the destined lovers meet, they prove
At once the force of this all-powerful love:
Each from that period feels the mutual smart,
Nor seeks to cure it: heart is changed for heart;
Nor is there peace till they delighted stand,
And, at the altar, hand is joined to hand.

"Alas! my child, there are who, dreaming so,
Waste their fresh youth, and waking feel the wo;
There is no spirit sent the heart to move
With such prevailing and alarming love;
Passion to reason will submit; or why
Should wealthy maids the poorest swains deny?
Or how could classes and degrees create
The slightest bar to such resistless fate?
Yet high and low, you see, forbear to mix;
No beggars' eyes the heart of kings transfix;
And who but amorous peers or nobles sigh
When titled beauties pass triumphant by ?
For reason wakes, proud wishes to reprove;
You cannot hope, and therefore dare not love:
All would be safe, did we at first inquire,
Does reason sanction what our hearts desire?"
But quitting precept, let example show
What joys from love uncheck'd by prudence flow

"A youth my father in his office placed,
Of humble fortune, but with sense and taste;
But he was thin and pale, had downcast looks;
He studied much, and pored upon his books:
Confused he was when seen, and, when he saw
Me or my sisters, would in haste withdraw;
And had this youth departed with the year,
His loss had cost us neither sigh nor tear.
"But with my father still the youth remain'd,
And more reward and kinder notice gain'd:
He often, reading, to the garden stray'd,
Where I by books or musing was delay'd;
This to discourse in summer evenings led,
Of these same evenings, or of what we read:
On such occasions we were much alone;
But, save the look, the manner, and the tone,
(These might have meaning,) all that we discuss'd
We could with pleasure to a parent trust.
"At length 'twas friendship; and my friend and I
Said we were happy, and began to sigh:
My sisters first, and then my father, found
That we were wandering o'er enchanted ground;
But he had troubles in his own affairs,

And would not bear addition to his cares :
With pity moved, yet angry, Child,' said he,
'Will you embrace contempt and beggary?
Can
you endure to see each other cursed
By want, of every human wo the worst?
Warring for ever with distress, in dread
Either of begging or of wanting bread;
While poverty, with unrelenting force,

And

Will
your own offspring from your love divorce:
They, through your folly, must be doom'd to pine,
you deplore your passion, or resign;
For, if it die, what good will then remain ?
And if it live, it doubles every pain. "
"But you were true," exclaim'd the lass," and fled
The tyrant's power who fill'd your soul with dread?"
"But," said the smiling friend, "he fill'd my
mouth with bread:

And in what other place that bread to gain
We long consider'd, and we sought in vain:
This was my twentieth year: at thirty-five
Our hope was fainter, yet our love alive;
So many years in anxious doubt had pass'd."
"Then," said the damsel, "you were bless'd at last?"
A smile again adorn'd the widow's face,
But soon a starting tear usurp'd its place.

103

Our dying hopes and stronger fears between,
We felt no season peaceful or serene ;
Our fleeting joys, like meteors in the night,
Shone on our gloom with inauspicious light;
And then domestic sorrows, till the mind,
Worn with distresses, to despair inclined;
Add too the ill that from the passion flows,
When its contemptuous frown the world bestows,
The peevish spirit caused by long delay,
When being gloomy we contemn the gay,
When, being wretched, we incline to hate
And censure others in a happier state;
Yet loving still, and still compell'd to move
In the sad labyrinth of lingering love:
While you, exempt from want, despair, alarm,
May wed-O! take the farmer and the farm."
"Nay," said the nymph, "joy smiled on you at

last?"

"Smiled for a moment," she replied, "and pass'd
My lover still the same dull means pursued,
His spirits wearied in the prime of life,
Assistant call'd, but kept in servitude;
By fears and wishes in eternal strife;
At length he urged impatient, Now consent;
With thee united, fortune may relent.'
I paused, consenting; but a friend arose,
Pleased a fair view, though distant, to disclose;
From the rough ocean we beheld a gleam
Of joy, as transient as the joys we dream;
By lying hopes deceived, my friend retired,
And sail'd-was wounded-reach'd us—and

expired!

You shall behold his grave, and when I die,
There-but 'tis folly-I request to lie."
Thus," said the lass,
to joy you bade adieu.
Or was it force, in some unhappy hour,
But how a widow ?-that cannot be true:
That placed you, grieving, in a tyrant's power?"
"Force, my young friend, when forty years are
fled,

Is what a woman seldom has to dread;
She needs no brazen locks nor guarding walls,
And seldom comes a lover though she calls:
Yet moved by fancy, one approved my face,
Though time and tears had wrought it much dis-
grace.

"The man I married was sedate and meek,
And spoke of love as men in earnest speak:

"Slow pass'd the heavy years, and each had more Poor as I was, he ceaseless sought, for years,

Pains and vexations than the years before
My father fail'd; his family was rent,
And to new states his grieving daughters sent;
Each to more thriving kindred found a way,
Guests without welcome-servants without pay;
Our parting hour was grievous; still I feel
The sad, sweet converse at our final meal;
Our father then reveal'd his former fears,
Cause of his sternness, and then join'd our tears;
Kindly he strove our feelings to repress,
But died, and left us heirs to his distress
The rich, as humble friends, my sisters chose,
I with a wealthy widow sought repose;
Who with a chilling frown her friend received
Bade me rejoice, and wonder'd that I grieved;
In vain my anxious lover tried his skill
To rise in life, he was dependent still;
We met in grief, nor can I paint the fears
Of these unhappy, troubled, trying years:

A heart in sorrow and a face in tears;
That heart I gave not; and 'twas long before
1 gave attention, and then nothing more;
But in my breast some grateful feeling rose
For one whose love so sad a subject chose;
Till long delaying, fearing to repent,
But grateful still, I gave a cold assent.

"Thus we were wed; no fault had I to find,
And he but one; my heart could not be kind:
Alas! of every early hope bereft,
There was no fondness in my bosom left;
So had I told him, but had told in vain,
He lived but to indulge me and complain :
His was this cottage, he enclosed this ground,
And planted all these blooming shrubs around,
He to my room these curious trifles brought,
And with assiduous love my pleasure sought:
He lived to please me, and I ofttimes strove,
Smiling, to thank his unrequited love:

Teach me,' he cried, that pensive mind to ease, The youth replied, "It is the widow's deed:
For all my pleasure is the hope to please.'
The cure is perfect, and was wrought with

"Serene, though heavy, were the days we spent,
Yet kind each word, and generous each intent;
But his dejection lessen'd every day,
And to a placid kindness died away;
In tranquil ease we pass'd our latter years,
By griefs untroubled, unassail'd by fears.

"Let not romantic views your bosom sway,
Yield to your duties, and their call obey:
Fly not a youth, frank, honest, and sincere;
Observe his merits, and his passion hear!
"Tis true, no hero, but a farmer sues-
Slow in his speech, but worthy in his views;
With him you cannot that affliction prove
That rends the bosom of the poor in love:
Health, comfort, competence, and cheerful days,
Your friends' approval, and your father's praise,
Will crown the deed, and you escape their fate
Who plan so wildly, and are wise too late."

The damsel heard; at first th' advice was
strange,

Yet wrought a happy, nay, a speedy change:
'I have no care," she said, when next they met,
"But one may wonder he is silent yet:
He looks around him with his usual stare,
And utters nothing-not that I shall care."
This pettish humour pleased th' experienced
friend-

None need despair whose silence can offend ; "Should I," resumed the thoughtful lass," consent To hear the man, the man may now repent: Think you my sighs shall call him from the plough, Or give one hint, that You may woo me now?'" "Persist, my love," replied the friend, "and gain

A parent's praise, that cannot be in vain."

speed."

"And comes there, boy, this benefit of books,
Of that smart dress, and of those dainty looks?
We must be kind; some offerings from the farm
To the white cot will speak our feelings warm;
Will show that people, when they know the fact,
Where they have judged severely, can retract.
Oft have I smiled, when I beheld her pass
With cautious step, as if she hurt the grass;
Where if a snail's retreat she chanced to storm,
She look'd as begging pardon of the worm;
And what, said I, still laughing at the view,
Have these weak creatures in the world to do?
But some are made for action, some to speak;
And, while she looks so pitiful and meek,
Her words are weighty, though her nerves are
weak."

The father saw the change, but not the cause, And gave the alter'd maid his fond applause : The coarser manners she in part removed, In part endured, improving and improved; She spoke of household works, she rose betimes, And said neglect and indolence were crimes; The various duties of their life she weigh'd, And strict attention to her dairy paid; The names of servants now familiar grew And fair Lucindas from her mind withdrew: As prudent travellers for their ease assume Their modes and language to whose lands they

come:

So to the farmer this fair lass inclined,
Gave to the business of the farm her mind;
To useful arts she turn'd her hand and eye;
And by her manners told him—" You may try."
Th' observing lover more attention paid,
With growing pleasure, to the alter'd maid;
He fear'd to lose her, and began to see
That a slim beauty might a helpmate be:
"Twixt hope and fear he now the lass address'd,
And in his Sunday robe his love express'd :
She felt no chilling dread, no thrilling joy,
Nor was too quickly kind, too slowly coy;
But still she lent an unreluctant ear
To all the rural business of the year;
Till love's strong hopes endured no more delay,
And Harry ask'd, and Nancy named the day.
"A happy change! my boy," the father cried:
"How lost your sister all her school-day pride?"

THERE was a worthy, but a simple pair,
Who nursed a daughter fairest of the fair:
Sons they had lost, and she alone remain'd,
Heir to the kindness they had all obtain'd;
Heir to the fortune they design'd for all,
Nor had th' allotted portion then been small;
But now, by fate enrich'd with beauty rare,
They watch'd their treasure with peculiar care
The fairest features they could early trace,
And, blind with love, saw merit in her face-
Saw virtue, wisdom, dignity, and grace:
And Dorothea, from her infant years,
Gain'd all her wishes from their pride or fears:
She wrote a billet, and a novel read,
And with her fame her vanity was fed;
Each word, each look, each action was a cause
For flattering wonder, and for fond applause;
She rode or danced, and ever glanced around,
Seeking for praise, and smiling when she found

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The Works of the British Poets, Selected and Chronologically Arranged ...