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But as her anger met with no reply,
The mother lives, and has enough to buy She let the gentle girl in quiet die ;
Th' attentive ear and the submissive eye And to her sister wrote impell’d by pain, Of abject natures—these are daily told, “Come quickly, Martha, or you come in vain." How triumph'd beauty in the days of old ; Lucy meantime profess'd, with joy sincere, How, by her window seated, crowds have cast That nothing held, employ’d, engaged her here. Admiring glances, wondering as they pass’d;
"I am an humble actor, doom'd to play How from her carriage as she stepp'd to pray, A part obscure, and then to glide away ;
Divided ranks would humbly make her way; Incurious how the great or happy shine,
And how each voice in the astonish'd throng Or who have parts obscure and sad as mine; Pronounced her peerless as she moved along. In its best prospect I but wish'd, for life,
Her picture then the greedy dame displays, To be th' assiduous, gentle, useful wife ;
Touch'd by no shame, she now demands its praise ; That lost, with wearied mind, and spirit poor, In her tall mirror then she shows a face, I drop my efforts, and can act no more ;
Sull coldly fair with unaffecting grace ; With growing joy I feel my spirits tend
These she compares, “ It has the form,” she cries, To that last scene where all my duties end.” · But wants the air, the spirit, and the eyes; Hope, ease, delight, the thoughts of dying This, as a likeness, is correct and true, gave,
But there alone the living grace we view.” Till Lucy spoke with fondness of the grave; This said, th' applauding voice the dame required, She smiled with wasted form, but spirit firm, And, gazing, slowly from the glass retired. And said, “ She left but little for the worm." As tolld the bell, “ There's one,” she said, “ hath
Thrice blessed they that master so their blood-
But earthly happier is the rose distillid,
Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn On holy writ her mind reposing dwelt,
Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. She saw the wonders, she the mercies felt;
Midsummer Night's Dream, act i. sc. 1. Till in a bless'd and glorious revery,
I sometimes do excuse the thing I hate, She seem'd the Saviour as on earth to see,
For his advantage whom I dearly love. And, fillid with love divine, th' attending friend
Measure for Measure, act ii. sc. 4. to be ;
Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu ! Or she who trembling, yet confiding, stole
Ibid. Near to the garment, touch'd it, and was whole; When, such th' intenseness of the working thought, Of a fair town where Doctor Rack was guide, On her it seem'd the very deed was wrought; His only daughter was the boast and pride ; She the glad patient's fear and rapture found, Wise Arabella, yet not wise alone, The holy transport, and the healing wound; She like a bright and polish'd brilliant shone ; This was so fix'd, so grafted in the heart,
Her father own'd her for his prop and stay, That she adopted, nay became the part:
Able to guide, yet willing to obey ; But one chief scene was present to her sight, Pleased with her learning while discourse could Her Saviour resting in the tomb by night;
please, Her fever rose, and still her wedded mind And with her love in languor and disease : Was to that scene, that hallow'd cave, confined ; To every mother were her virtues known, Where in the shade of death the body laid, And to their daughters as a pattern shown ; There watched the spirit of the wandering Who in her youth had all that age requires, maid;
And with her prudence, all that youth admires.
Not to obtain such merits, but deny;
From such applause disdain and anger rise,
And envy lives where emulation dies. To this idea all her soul she gave,
In all his strength contends the noble horse, Her mind reposing by the sacred grave;
With one who just precedes him on the course ; Then sleep would seal the eye, the vision close, But when the rival flies too far before, And steep the solemn thoughts in brief repose. His spirit fails, and he attempts no more.
Then grew the soul serene, and all its powers This reasoning maid, above her sex's dread! Again restored illumed the dying hours ;
Had dared to read, and dared to say she read; Bat reason dwelt where fancy stray'd before, Not the last novel, not the new-born play; And the mind wander'd from its views no more ; Not the mere trash and scandal of the day ; Till death approach’d, when every look express’d But, (though her young companions felt the shock,) A serise of bliss, till every sense had rest. She studied Berkeley, Bacon, Hobbes, and Locke :
Her mind within the maze of history dwelt, A man may smile, but still he should attend
His hour at church, and be the church's friend, The merits of the Roman page she knew,
What there he thinks conceal, and what he hears And could converse with Moore and Montagu:
commend." Thus she became the wonder of the town,
Frank was the speech, but heard with high From that she reap'd, to that she gave renown,
disdain, And strangers coming, all were taught t' admire Nor had the doctor leave to speak again; The learned lady, and the lofty spire.
A man who own'd, nay, gloried in deceit, Thus fame in public fix'd the maid, where all He might despise her, but he should not cheat." Might throw their darts, and see the idol fall; Then Vicar Holmes appear'd; he heard it said, A hundred arrows came with vengeance keen, That ancient men best pleased the prudent maid; From longues envenom'd, and from arms unseen; And true it was her ancient friends she loved, A thousand eyes were fix'd upon the place, Servants when old she favour'd and approved ; That, if she fell, she might not fly disgrace: Age in her pious parents she revered, But malice vainly throws the poison'd dart, And neighbours were by length of days endeard ; Unless our frailty shows the peccant part ; But, if her husband too must ancient be, And Arabella still preserved her name
The good old vicar found it was not he. Untouch'd, and shone with undisputed fame; On Captain Bligh her mind in balance hungHer very notice some respect would cause, Though valiant, modest; and reserved, though And her esteem was honour and applause.
young; Men she avoided ; not in childish fear,
Against these merits must defects be selAs if she thought some savage foe was near ; Though poor, imprudent; and though proud, in Not as 'a prude, who hides that man should seek,
debt. Or who by silence hints that they should speak; In vain the captain close attention paid ; But with discretion all the sex she view'd, She found him wanting, whom she fairly weigh'a Ere yet engaged, pursuing, or pursued ;
Then came a youth, and all their friends agreed, Ere love had made her to his vices blind
That Edward Huntly was the man indeed; Or hid the favourite's failings from her mind. Respectful duty he had paid a while,
Thus was the picture of the man portray'd, Then ask'd her hand, and had a gracious smile : By merit destined for so rare a maid :
A lover now declared, he led the fair At whose request she might exchange her state, To woods and fields, to visits and to prayer; Or still be happy in a virgin's fate.
Then whisper'd softly, “Will you name the day? He must be one with manners like her own, She softly whisper’d, “ If you love me, stay." His life unquestion’d, his opinions known; “O! try me not beyond my strength,” he cried. His stainless virtue must all tests endure,
“O! be not weak," the prudent maid replied : His honour spotless, and his bosom pure ; “ But by some trial your affcction proveShe no allowance made for sex or times,
Respect and not impatience argues love : Of lax opinion-crimes were ever crimes ; And love no more is by impatience known, No wretch forsaken must his frailty curse, Than ocean's depth is by its tempests shown: No spurious offspring drain his private purse : He whom a weak and fond impatience sways, He at all times his passions must command, But for himself with all his fervour prays, And yet possess, or be refused her hand.
And not the maid he wooes, but his own will All this without reserve the maiden told,
Young Edward grieved, but let not grief be
A while he waited, and then cried, “ Behold! On every cause, and in a pleasant way;
The year advancing, be no longer cold !" Not all his trust was in a pliant tongue,
For she had promised—“ Let the flowers appear, His form was good, and ruddy he, and young : And I will pass with thee the smiling year." But though the doctor was a man of parts, Then pressing grew the youth; the more he He read not deeply male or female hearts ;
press’d, But judged that all whom he esteem'd as wise, The less inclined the maid to his request : Must think alike, though some assumed disguise ; "Let June arrive."-Alas! when April came, That every reasoning Brahmin, Christian, Jew, It brought a stranger, and the stranger, shame ; Of all religions took their liberal view;
Nor could the lover from his house persuade And of her own, no doubt, this learned maid A stubborn lass whom he had mournful made : Denied the substance, and the forms obey'd ; Angry and weak, by thoughtless vengeance moved, And thus persuaded, he his thoughts express'd She told her story to the fair beloved , Of her opinions, and his own profess'd
In strongest words th' unwelcome truth was shown, “ All states demand this aid, the vulgar need To blight his prospects, careless of her own. Their priests and prayers, their sermons and their Our heroine grieved, but had too firm a heart creed ;
For him to soften, when she swore to part; And those of stronger minds should never speak In vain his seeming penitence and prayer, (In his opinion) what might hurt the weak: His vows, his lears ; she left him in despair :
His mother fondly laid her grief aside,
As young Zelinda, in her quaker dress, And to the reason of the nymph applied
Disdain’d each varying fashion's vile excess ; " It well becomes thee, lady, to appear,
And now her friends on old Zelinda gaze, But not to be, in very truth, severe ;
Pleased in rich silks and orient gems to blaze : Although the crime be odious in thy sight, Changes like these 'tis folly to condemn, That daring sex is taught such things to slight, So virtue yields not, nor is changed by them. His heart is thine, although it once was frail; Let us proceed: twelve brilliant years were Think of his grief, and let his love prevail."
past, * Plead thou more," the lofty lass return'd; Yet each with less of glory than the last ; * Forgiving woman is deceived and spurn'd : Whether these years to this fair virgin gave Say that the crime is common ; shall I take A softer mind-effect they often have ; A common man my wedded lord to make ? Whether the virgin state was not so bless'd See! a weak woman by his arts betray'd,
As that good maiden in her zeal professid ; An infant born his father to upbraid ;
Or whether lovers falling from her train, Shall I forgive his vileness, take his name, Gave greater price to those she could retain, Sanction his error, and partake his shame ? Is all unknown ;-but Arabella now No! this assent would kindred frailty prove, Was kindly listening to a merchant's vow; A love for him would be a vicious love :
Who offer'd terms so fair, against his love Can a chaste maiden secret counsel hold
To strive was folly, so she never strove; With one whose crime by every mouth is told ? Man in his earlier days we often find Forbid it spirit, prudence, virtuous pride ; With a too easy and unguarded mind; He must despise me, were he not denied : But by increasing years and prudence taught, The way from vice the erring mind to win, He grows reserved, and locks up every thought: Is with presuming sinners to begin,
Not thus the maiden, for in blooming youth And show, by scorning them, a just contempt for She hides her thought, and guards the tender sin."
truth: The youth, repulsed, to one more mild convey'd This, when no longer young, no more she hides, His heart, and smiled on the remorseless maid ; But frankly in the favour'd swain confides : The maid, remorseless in her pride, the while Man, stubborn man, is like the growing tree, Despised the insult, and return'd the smile. That longer standing, still will harder be;
First to admire, to praise her, and defend, And like its fruit the virgin, first austere, Was (now in years advanced) a virgin friend : Then kindly softening with the ripening year. Much she preferr'd, she cried, a single state, Now was the lover urgent, and the kind “It was her choice,"—it surely was her fate ; And yielding lady to his suit inclined : And much it pleased her in the train to view “ A little time, my friend, is just, is right; A maiden vot'ress, wise, and lovely too.
We must be decent in our neighbours' sight:” Time to the yielding mind his change imparts, Suill she allow'd him of his hopes to speak, He varies notions, and he alters hearts ;
And in compassion took off week by week ; 'Tis right, 'tis just to feel contempt for vice, Till sew remain’d, when, wearied with delay, But he that shows it may be over-nice :
She kindly meant to take off day by day. There are who feel, when young, the false sub That female friend who gave our virgin praise lime,
For flying man and all his treacherous ways, And proudly love to show disdain for crime, Now heard with mingled anger, shame, and fear, To whom the future will new thoughts supply, Of one accepted, and a wedding near; The pride will soften, and the scorn will die ; But she resolved again, with friendly zeal, Nay, where they still the vice itself condemn, To make the maid her scorn of wedlock feel; They bear the vicious, and consort with them : For she was grieved to find her work undone, Young Captain Grove, when one had changed his And like a sister mourn'd the failing nun. side,
Why are these gentle maidens prone to make Despised the venal turn-coat, and defied;
Their sister doves the tempting world forsake ? Old Colonel Grove now shakes him by the hand, Why all their triumph when a maid disdains
Though he who bribes may still his voie command : The tyrant sex, and scorns to wear its chains ? · Why would not Ellen to Belinda speak,
Is it pure joy to see a sister flown
And therefore paint their native woods and groves, Was it the lady her mistake had seen?
As scenes of dangerous joys and nanghty loves ? Or had she also such a journey been ?
Strong was the maiden's hope : her friend was No: 'twas the gradual change in human hearts,
proud, That time, in commerce with the world, imparts ; And had her notions to the world avow'd; That on the roughest tem per throws disguise, And, could she find the merchant weak and frail, And steals from virtue her asperities.
With power to prove it, then she must prevail ; The young and ardent, who with glowing zeal For she aloud would publish his disgrace, Felt wrath for trifles, and were proud to feel And save his victim from a man so base. Now find those trifles all the mind engage,
When all inquiries had been duly made, To soothe dull hours, and cheat the cares of age ;
Came the kind friend her burden to unlade.
“Alas! my dear! not all our care and art Can tread the maze of man's deceitful heart :
THE LOVER'S JOURNEY.
The sun is in the heavens, and the proud day,
Altended with the pleasures of the world, with me.”
Is all too wanton. The maiden frown'd, and then conceived “ that
King John, act iii. sc. 3. wives
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, Could walk as well, and lead as holy lives
Are of imagination all compact. As angry prudes who scorn'd the marriage-chain,
Midsummer Night's Dream. Or luckless maids who sought it still in vain.”
0! how the spring of love resembleth The friend was vex'd ; she paused, at length she Th’ uncertain glory of an April day, cried,
Which now shows all her beauty to the sun,
And by-and-by a cloud bears all away. " Know your own danger, then your lot decide ;
And happily I have arrived at last That traitor, Beswell, while he seeks your hand,
Unto the wished haven of my bliss. Has, I affirm, a wanton at command ;
Taming of the Shrero, act v. sc. 1. A slave, a creature from a foreign place, The nurse and mother of a spurious race ;
It is the soul that sees ; the outward eyes
Here ceased th' informer; Arabella's look Or, is absorb’d by their peculiar cares,
Our feelings still upon our views attend,
And their own natures to the objects lend ; “I wish to know no more : Sorrow and joy are in their influence sure, I question not your motive, zeal, or love,
Long as the passion reigns th' effects endure ; But must decline such dubious points to prove: But love in minds his various changes makes, All is not true, I judge, for who can guess
And clothes each object with the change be takes; Those deeds of darkness men with care suppress? His light and shade on every view he throws, He brought a slave, perhaps, to England's coast, And on each object, what he feels, bestows. And made her free ; it is our country's boast ! Fair was the morning, and the month was June, And she perchance too grateful-good and ill When rose a lover; love awakens soon; Were sown at first, and grow together, still ; Brief his repose, yet much he dreamt the while The colour'd infants on the village green,
or that day's meeting, and his Laura's smile; What are they more than we have often seen? Fancy and love that name assign'd to her, Children half-clothed who round their village stray, Call'd Susan in the parish register; In sun or rain, now starved, now beaten, they And he no more was John ; his Laura gave Will the dark colour of their fate betray :
The name Orlando to her faithful slave. Let us in Christian love for all account,
Bright shone the glory of the rising day, And then behold to what such tales amount." When the fond traveller took his favourite way;
His heart is evil," said th' impatient friend He mounted gayly, felt his bosom light, My duty bids me try that heart to mend," And all he saw was pleasing in his sight. Replied the virgin : " we may be too nice,
“ Ye hours of expectation, quickly fly, And lose a soul in our contempt of vice ;
And bring on hours of blest reality ;
Hear her sweet voice, and press her yielded hand." And what for virtue can I better do
First o'er a barren heath beside the coast Than to reclaim him, if the charge be true ?” Orlando rode, and joy began to boast.
She spoke, nor more her holy work delay'd ; This neat low gorge,” said he,“ with golden 'Twas time to lend an erring mortal aid :
bloom, “ The noblest way,” she judged, “a soul to win, Delights each sense, is beauty, is perfume ; Was with an act of kindness to begin,
And this gay ling, with all its purple flowers, To make the sinner sure, and then t'attack the sin."'* A man at leisure might admire for hours ;
This green-fringed cup-moss has a scarlet tip, As the author's purpose in this tale may be mistaken, That yields to nothing but my Laura's lip; he wishes to observe, that conduct like that of the lady's And then how fine this herbage! men may say here described, must be meritorious or censurable, just A heath is barren; nothing is so gay: as the motives to it are pure or selfish; that these mo. Barren or bare to call such charming scene tives may in a great measure be concealed from the mind of the agent ; and that we often take credit to our virtue for Argues a mind possess'd by care and spleen.” actions which spring originally from our tempers, incli.
Onward he went, and fiercer grew the heat, nations, or our indifference. cannot therefore be im. Dust rose in clouds before the horse's feet; proper, much less iminoral, to give an instance of such For now he pass'd through lanes of burning sand self-deception.
Bounds to thin crops, or yet uncultured land ;
Where the dark poppy flourish'd on the dry Here a grave r'lora* scarcely deigns to bloom, And sterile soil, and mock'd the thin-set rye. Nor wears a rosy blush, nor sheds perfume ;
- How lovely this !" the rapt Orlando said ; The few dull flowers that o'er the place are spread, - With what delight is labouring man repaid ! Partake the nature of their fenny bed ; The very lane has sweets that all admire, Here on its wiry stem, in rigid bloom, The rambling suckling and the vigorous brier; Grows the salt lavender that lacks perfume ; See! wholesome wormwood grows beside the Here the dwarf sallows creep, the septfoil harsh, way,
And the soft slimy mallow of the marsh ; Where dew-press'd yet the dog-rose bends the Low on the ear the distant billows sound, spray ;
And just in view appears their stony bound; Fresh herbs the fields, fair shrubs the banks adorn, No hedge nor tree conceals the glowing sun, And snow-white bloom falls flaky from the thorn; Birds, save a watery tribe, the district shun, No fostering hand they need, no sheltering wall, Nor chirp among the reeds where bitter waters run. They spring uncultured, and they bloom for all." · Various as beauteous, Nature, is thy face,” The lover rode as hasty lovers ride,
Exclaim'd Orlando : “all that grows has grace And reach'd a common pasture wild and wide ; All are appropriate ; bog, and marsh, and fen, Small black-legg'd sheep devour with hunger keen Are only poor to undiscerning men ; The meagre herbage, fleshless, lank, and lean; Here may the nice and curious eye explore Such o'er thy level turf, Newmarket! stray, How Nature's hand adorns the rushy moor; And there, with other black-legs find their prey : Here the rare moss in secret shade is found, He saw some scatter'd hovels, turf was piled Here the sweet myrtle of the shaking ground; In square brown stacks ; a prospect bleak and wild ! Beauties are these that from the view retire, A mill, indeed, was in the centre found,
But well repay th' attention they require ; With short sear herbage withering all around; For these my Laura will her home forsake, A smith's black shed opposed a wright's long shop, And all the pleasures they afford partake.” And join d an inn where humble travellers stop. Again the country was enclosed, a wide
" Ay, this is nature," said the gentle squire ; And sandy road has banks on either side ; “ This ease, peace, pleasure, who would not admire! Where, lo! a hollow on the left appear'd, With what delight these sturdy children play, And there a gipsy tribe their tent had rear'd; And joyful rustics at the close of day;
"Twas open spread, to catch the morning sun, Sport follows labour, on this even space
And they had now their early meal begun, Will soon commence the wrestling and the race ; When two brown boys just left their grassy seat, Then will the village maidens leave their home, The early traveller with their prayers to greet: And to the dance with buoyant spirits come; While yet Orlando held his pence in hand, No affectation in their looks is seen,
He saw their sister on her duty stand ; Nor know they what disguise or flattery mean; Some twelve years old, demure, affected, sly, Vor aught to move an envious pang they see, Prepared the force of early powers to try ; Easy their service, and their love is free; Sudden a look of languor he descries, Hence early springs that love, it long endures, And well-feign'd apprehension in her eyes ; And life's first comfort, while they live, ensures ; Train'd, but yet savage, in her speaking face They the low roof and rustic comforts prize, He mark'd the features of her vagrant race ; Nor cast on prouder mansions envying eyes : When a light laugh and roguish leer express'd Sometimes the news at yonder town they hear, The vice implanted in her youthful breast : And learn what busier mortals feel and fear; Forth from the tent her elder brother came, Secure themselves, although by tales amazed, Who seem'd offended, yet forbore to blame of towns bombarded, and of cities razed ; As if they doubted, in their still retreat, The very news that makes their quiet sweet, And their days happy ; happier only knows
* The ditches of a fen so near the ocean are lined with He on whom Laura her regard bestows."
irregular patches of a coarse and stained lava; a muddy
sediment rests on the horse-tail and other perennial On rode Orlando, counting all the while
herbs, which in part conceal the shallowness of the The miles he pass'd, and every coming mile ;
stream; a fat-leaved, pale-flowering scurvy grass, appears L'ke all attracted things, he quicker flies,
early in the year, and the razor-edged bulrush, in the The place approaching where th' attraction lies; summer and autumn. The sen itself has a dark and saWhen next appear'd a dam—so call the place line herbage ; there are rushes and arrow-head, and in Where lies a road confined in narrow space;
a few patches the flakes of the cotton grass are seen, but A work of labour, for on either side
more commonly the sea-aster, the dullest of that nume. Is level fen, a prospect wild and wide,
rous and hardy genus; a thrift, blue in flower, but With dikes on either hand by ocean's self supplied : it; the saltwort, both simple and shrubby; a few kinds
withering and remaining withered, till the winter scatters Far on the right the distant sea is seen,
of grass changed by their soil and atmosphere, and low And salt the springs that feed the marsh between; plants of two or three denominations undistinguished in Beneath an ancient bridge, the straiten’d flood a general view of the scenery: such is the vegetation of Rolls through its sloping banks of slimy mud; the fen when it is at a small distance from the ocean ; Near it a sunken boat resists the tide,
and in this case there arise from it effluvia strong and That frets and hurries to th' opposing side ;
peculiar, half-saline, half-putrid, which would be consi
dered by most people as offensive, and by some as dan. The rushes sharp, that on the borders grow,
gerous; but there are others to whom singularity of Bend their brown flow'rets to the stream below, taste, or association of ideas, has rendered it agreeable Impure in all its course, in all its progress slow : and pleasant.