That night advanc'd; 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."

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,

The fiend 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 diseas'd,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sinew,
Rase out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?

Macbeth, Act V. Scene 8.

Soft! I did but dream...

Oh! coward Conscience, how dost thou afflict me!

Richard III. Act V. Scene 3,

TALE XIV.

THE STRUGGLES OF CONSCIENCE.

A SERIOUS Toyman in the City dwelt,
Who much concern for his religion felt;
Reading, he chang'd his tenets, read again,
And various questions could with skill maintain;
Papist and Quaker if we set aside,

He had the road of every traveller tried ;
There walk'd awhile, and on a sudden turn'd
Into some bye-way he had just discern'd:
He had a nephew, Fulham---Fulham went
His Uncle's way, with every turn content;
He saw his pious kinsman's watchful care,

And thought such anxious pains his own might spare,
And he, the truth obtain'd, without the toil, might share.
In fact young Fulham, tho' he little read,

Perceiv'd his Uncle was by fancy led;

And smil'd to see the constant care he took,

Collating creed with creed, and book with book.

At length the senior fix'd; I pass the sect
He call'd a Church, 'twas precious and elect;
Yet the seed fell not in the richest soil,
For few disciples paid the Preacher's toil;

All in an attic-room were wont to meet,

These few disciples at their Pastor's feet;
With these went Fulham, who, discreet and grave,
Follow'd the light his worthy Uncle gave;
Till a warm Preacher found a way t' impart
Awakening feelings to his torpid heart :

Some weighty truths, and of unpleasant kind,
Sank, though resisted, in his struggling mind;
He wish'd to fly them, but compell'd to stay,
Truth to the waking Conscience found her way;
For tho' the Youth was call'd a prudent lad,
And prudent was, yet serious faults he had;
Who now reflected---" Much am I surpris'd,
"I find these notions cannot be despis'd;
"No! there is something I perceive at last,

Although my Uncle cannot hold it fast; "Though I the strictness of these men reject, "Yet I determine to be circumspect; "This man alarms me, and I must begin "To look more closely to the things within; "These sons of zeal have I derided long, "But now begin to think the laughers wrong;

Nay! my good Uncle, by all teachers mov'd, "Will be preferr'd to him who none approv❜d, "Better to love amiss than nothing to have lov'd."

Such were his thoughts, when Conscience first began To hold close converse with th' awaken'd man :

He from that time reserv'd and cautious
And for his duties felt obedience due;
Pious he was not, but he fear'd the pain
Of sins committed, nor would sin again.

grew,