'Sybil,' said he, 'I long, and yet I dread To know thy conduct-hath Josiah fled? And, grieved and fretted by thy scornful air, For his lost peace betaken him to prayer? Couldst thou his pure and modest mind distress,

By vile remarks upon his speech, address, Attire, and voice?' All this I must confess.'

'Unhappy child! what labour will it cost To win him back!'-'I do not think him lost.' 'Courts he then, trifler! insult and disdain?''No but from these he courts me to refrain.'

Ah me! for aught that I could ever read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth;
But either it was different in blood,
Or else misgraffed in respect of years,
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends;..
Or if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.
Midsummer Night's Dream, Act i, Scene 1.
Oh! thou didst then ne'er love so heartily
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into.

As You Like It, Act ii, Scene 4.

Cry the man mercy; love him, take his offer.
As You Like It, Act iii, Scene 5.

To farmer Moss, in Langar Vale, came down
His only daughter, from her school in town;
A tender, timid maid! who knew not how
To pass a pig-sty, or to face a cow:
Smiling she came, with petty talents graced,
A fair complexion, and a slender waist.

Used to spare meals, disposed in manner
pure,

Her father's kitchen she could ill endure; Where by the steaming beef he hungry sat, And laid at once a pound upon his plate; Hot from the field, her eager brother seized An equal part, and hunger's rage appeased; The air, surcharged with moisture, flagg'd around,

And the offended damsel sigh'd and frown'd; The swelling fat in lumps conglomerate laid, And fancy's sickness seized the loathing maid:

But when the men beside their station took, The maidens with them, and with these the cook;

When one huge wooden bowl before them stood,

Fill'd with huge balls of farinaceous food; With bacon, mass saline, where never lean Beneath the brown and bristly rind was seen; When from a single horn the party drew Their copious draughts of heavy ale and new; When the coarse cloth she saw, with many a stain,

Soil'd by rude hinds who cut and came again— She could not breathe; but, with a heavy sigh, Rein'd the fair neck, and shut th' offended eye;

She minced the sanguine flesh in frustums fine, And wonder'd much to see the creatures dine : When she resolved her father's heart to move, If hearts of farmers were alive to love.

She now entreated by herself to sit In the small parlour, if papa thought fit, And there to dine, to read, to work alone :'No!' said the farmer, in an angry tone; These are your school-taught airs; your mother's pride

Would send you there; but I am now your guide.

Arise betimes, our early meal prepare,
And this despatch'd, let business be your care;
Look to the lasses, let there not be one
Who lacks attention, till her tasks be done;
In every household work your portion take,
And what you make not, see that others make:

At leisure times attend the wheel, and see The whit❜ning web be sprinkled on the Lea; When thus employ'd, should our young neighbour view

An useful lass, you may have more to do.' Dreadful were these commands; but worse than these

The parting hint—a farmer could not please: 'Tis true she had without abhorrence seen Young Harry Carr, when he was smart and clean;

·

But to be married-be a farmer's wifeA slave! a drudge !-she could not, for her life.

With swimming eyes the fretful nymph withdrew,

And, deeply sighing, to her chamber flew ; There on her knees, to Heav'n she grieving pray'd

For change of prospect to a tortured maid.

Harry, a youth whose late-departed sire Had left him all industrious men require, Saw the pale beauty-and her shape and air Engaged him much, and yet he must forbear: For my small farm what can the damsel do?'

He said then stopp'd to take another view: 'Pity so sweet a lass will nothing learn Of household cares-for what can beauty earn By those small arts which they at school attain,

:

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.
'Oh, 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,

This luckless damsel look'd the village round,

To find a friend, and one was quickly found; A pensive widow-whose mild air and dress Pleased the sad nymph, who wish'd her soul's distress

To one so seeming kind, confiding, to confess.

'What lady that?' the anxious lass inquired,

Who then beheld the one she most admired:
Here,' said the brother, ' are no ladies seen-
That is a widow dwelling on the green;
A dainty dame, who can but barely live
On her poor pittance, yet contrives to give;
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.

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 sense,

To mine but little of their sweets dispense;
Books soon are painful to my failing sight,
And oftener read from duty than delight;
(Yet let me own, that I can sometimes find
Both joy and duty in the act combined ;)
But view me rightly, you will see no more
Than a poor female, willing to be poor;
Happy indeed, but not in books nor flowers
Not in fair dreams, indulged in earlier hours,
Of never-tasted joys ;-such visions shun,
My youthful friend, nor scorn the farmers'

son.'

Nay,' said the damsel, nothing pleased to

see

A friend's advice could like a father's be,
'Bless'd in your cottage, you must surely
smile

At those who live in our detested style:
To my Lucinda's sympathizing heart
Could I my prospects and my griefs impart,
She would console me; but I dare not show
Ills that would wound her tender soul to
know:

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 heav'n! 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; you take a false alarm;
Think, I beseech you, better of the farm:
Duties in every state demand your care,
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.'
'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 join'd 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 am'rous 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,
Will your own offspring from your love
divorce;

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;
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,

pine,

And 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 I mouth with bread:

And in what other place that bread to gain We long consider'd, and we sought in vain:

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 ling'ring love:
While you, exempt from want, despair, alarm,
May wed-oh! take the farmer and the farm.'
'Nay,' said the nymph, ' joy smiled on you