Thou art enamour'd of thyself; my art Were I to own thy power, and ask thy love; And can thy patients,' said the nymph, Physic like this? and will it work a cure?' Such is my hope, fair damsel; thou, I find, Could it the least of nature's pains remove? And seek the jewel happiness within.' Love has a thousand varied notes to move Till thou hast cast thy formal ways aside, Something for habits, manners, modes, Yes! but allowing much, I much require, In my behalf, for manners, modes, attire! True, lovely Sybil; and, this point agreed, Let me to those of greater weight proceed: Thy father! '-'Nay,' she quickly interposed, 'Good doctor, here our conference is closed! Then left the youth, who, lost in his retreat, Pass'd the good matron on her garden-seat; His looks were troubled, and his air, once mild And calm, was hurried :-'My audacious child!' Exclaim'd the dame, 'I read what she has In thy displeasure-Ah! the thoughtless one; 'Speak'st thou at meeting?' said the Speak of the maid as mildly as you can: nymph; thy speech Is that of mortal very prone to teach; Thine own disease?-The cure is thy con- 'Yea, with good will.'-'Then know, 'tis thy That, for a sinner, thou'rt too much a saint; Wrapt in a garb of such formality? Can you not seem to woo a little while youth, Rely securely on my care and truth; The dame had doubts: she well his virtues knew, His deeds were friendly, and his words were But to address this vixen is a task plain, The thoughtless girl, and shall he love in vain? With anger fraught, but willing to persuade, '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.' TALE VII. THE WIDOW'S TALE Ah me! for aught that I could ever read, As You Like It, Act ii, Scene 4. Cry the man mercy; love him, take his offer. To farmer Moss, in Langar Vale, came down Used to spare meals, disposed in manner 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, 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. Shock'd all day long, and sicken'd every meal; Would let no vulgar scenes pollute your taste; That keep them useless, and yet make them Without so pleasant, and within so clean; vain ? ' These twining jess'mines, what delicious gloom 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: And you may call her lady, if you please: And soothing fragrance yield they to the room! What lovely garden! there you oft retire, 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, These plants, which please so well your livelier sense, To mine but little of their sweets dispense; son.' Nay,' said the damsel, nothing pleased to see A friend's advice could like a father's be, At those who live in our detested style: And I confess, it shocks my pride to tell What can you smile? Ah! smile not at the grief That woos your pity and demands relief.' Try you my patience? Can you be sincere? And then the rival's plot, the parent's power, 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 Rejects the fury or defies the pain; 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 Or how could classes and degrees create All would be safe, did we at first inquire- 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: But he had troubles in his own affairs, "Will you embrace contempt and beggary? Pains and vexations than the years before. Our parting hour was grievous; still I feel Kindly he strove our feelings to repress, The peevish spirit caused by long delay, They, through your folly, must be doom'd to When, being gloomy, we contemn the gay, 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 |