And when with rapid wheels it hurried by,
He grieved his parent with a hopeless sigh;
And could the blessing have been bought—what sum
Had he not offer'd, to have Jesse come!

She came he saw her bending from the door,
Her face, her smile, and he beheld no more;
Lost in his joy-the mother lent her aid
T'assist and to detain the willing maid;
Who thought her late, her present home to make,
Sure of a welcome for the vicar's sake:

But the good parent was so pleased, so kind,

So pressing Colin, she so much inclined,

That night advanced; and then so long detain'd,

No wishes to depart she felt, or feign'd;

Yet long in doubt she stood, and then perforce remain'd.

Here was a lover fond, a friend sincere; Here was content and joy, for she was here: In the mild evening, in the scene around, The maid, now free, peculiar beauties found; Blended with village-tones, the evening gale Gave the sweet night-bird's warblings to the vale; The youth embolden'd, yet abash'd, now told His fondest wish, nor found the maiden cold;

The mother smiling whisper'd-"Let him go "And seek the licence!"

Jesse answer'd, "No:" But Colin went. I know not if they live With all the comforts wealth and plenty give; But with pure joy to envious souls denied, To suppliant meanness and suspicious pride; And village-maids of happy couples say,

They live like Jesse Bourn and Colin Grey."

1

TALE XIV.

THE STRUGGLES OF CONSCIENCE.

I am a villain; yet I lie, I am not;

Fool! of thyself speak well:-Fool! do not flatter.
My Conscience hath a thousand several tongues,

And every tongue brings in a several tale.

Richard III. Act V. Scene 3.

My Conscience is but a kind of hard Conscience. gives the more friendly counsel.

Merchant of Venice, Act II. Scene 2.

Thou hast it now-and I fear

Thou play'dst most foully for it.

Macbeth, Act III. Scene 1.

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
Rase out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some sweet oplivious antidote
Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?

Macbeth, Act IV. Scene 3.

Soft! I did but dream

Oh! coward Conscience, how dost thou afflict me!

Richard III. Act V. Scene 3.