No! all is lost, her favours Fortune shower'd
Upon the man, and he is overpower'd ;
The world has won him with its tempting store
Of needless wealth, and that has made him
poor:

Success undoes him; he has risen to fall,
Has gain'd a fortune, and has lost his all;
Gone back from Sion, he will find his age
Loth to commence a second pilgrimage;
He has retreated from the chosen track;
And now must ever bear the burden on his
back.'

Hurt by such censure, John began to find
Fresh revolutions working in his mind;
He sought for comfort in his books, but read
Without a plan or method in his head;
What once amused, now rather made him sad,
What should inform, increased the doubts he
had;

In youth indeed I had a wicked will,
But I repented, and have sorrow still:
I had my comforts, and a growing trade
Gave greater pleasure than a fortune made;
And as I more possess'd and reason'd more,
I lost those comforts I enjoy'd before,
When reverend guides I saw my table round,
And in my guardian guest my safety found:
Now sick and sad, no appetite, no ease,
Nor pleasure have I, nor a wish to please;
Nor views, nor hopes, nor plans, nor taste
have I,

Yet sick of life, have no desire to die.'

He said, and died; his trade, his name is

gone,

And all that once gave consequence to John. Unhappy Dighton! had he found a friend, When conscience told him it was time to mend!

guide,

And from his meeting he was held by pride;
His wife derided fears she never felt,
And passing brethren daily censures dealt;
Hope for a son was now for ever past,
He was the first John Dighton, and the last;
His stomach fail'd, his case the doctor knew,
But said, he still might hold a year or two:
No more!' he said, but why should I com-
plain ?

A life of doubt must be a life of pain:
Could I be sure-but why should I despair?
I'm sure my conduct has been just and fair;

Who would have shown the grounds of hope and fear;

And proved that spirits, whether high or low, No certain tokens of man's safety show; Had reason ruled him in her proper place, And virtue led him while he lean'd on grace; Had he while zealous been discreet and pure, His knowledge humble, and his hope secure ;These guides had placed him on the solid rock, Where faith had rested, nor received a shock; But his, alas! was placed upon the sand, Where long it stood not, and where none can stand.

My practices ride easy.

He lets me feed with his hinds, Bars me the place of a brother.

As You Like It, Act i, Scene 1. 'Twas I, but 'tis not I; I do not shame To tell you what I was, being the thing I am.

...

As You Like It, Act iv, Scene 3.

THAN Old George Fletcher, on the British coast, Dwelt not a seaman who had more to boast;

He left a son so like him, that the old With joy exclaim'd, "Tis Fletcher we be

hold;'

But to his brother when the kinsmen came, And view'd his form, they grudged the father's name.

George was a bold, intrepid, careless lad, With just the failings that his father had; Isaac was weak, attentive, slow, exact, With just the virtues that his father lack'd.

George lived at sea: upon the land a guestHe sought for recreation, not for restWhile, far unlike, his brother's feebler form Shrank from the cold, and shudder'd at the storm;

Still with the seaman's to connect his trade, The boy was bound where blocks and ropes were made.

George, strong and sturdy, had a tender
mind,

And was to Isaac pitiful and kind;
A very father, till his art was gain'd,
And then a friend unwearied he remain'd:
He saw his brother was of spirit low,
His temper peevish, and his motions slow;
Not fit to bustle in a world, or make
Friends to his fortune for his merit's sake:
But the kind sailor could not boast the art
Of looking deeply in the human heart;
Else had he seen that this weak brother knew
What men to court-what objects to pursue;
That he to distant gain the way discern'd,
And none so crooked but his genius learn'd.
Isaac was poor, and this the brother felt;
He hired a house, and there the landman
dwelt;

Wrought at his trade, and had an easy home,
For there would George with cash and com-

For Isaac felt not what some tempers feel,
But bow'd and bent the neck to Burgess Steel;
And great attention to a lady gave,

His ancient friend, a maiden spare and grave:
One whom the visage long and look demure
Of Isaac pleased-he seem'd sedate and pure ;
And his soft heart conceived a gentle flame
For her who waited on this virtuous dame:
Not an outrageous love, a scorching fire,
But friendly liking and chastised desire;
And thus he waited, patient in delay,

In present favour and in fortune's way.

George then was coasting-war was yet

delay'd,

And what he gain'd was to his brother paid; Nor ask'd the seaman what he saved or spent: But took his grog, wrought hard, and was content;

Till war awaked the land, and George began To think what part became a useful man :

Press'd, I must go; why, then, 'tis better far At once to enter like a British tar, Than a brave captain and the foe to shun, As if I fear'd the music of a gun.' 'Go not!' said Isaac-'You shall wear disguise.'

'What!' said the seaman, clothe myself with lies?'—

Oh! but there's danger.'-' Danger in the fleet?

You cannot mean, good brother, of defeat; And other dangers I at land must shareSo now adieu! and trust a brother's care.'

Isaac awhile demurr'd-but, in his heart,
So might he share, he was disposed to part :
The better mind will sometimes feel the pain
Of benefactions-favour is a chain;
But they the feeling scorn, and what they
wish, disdain ;—

While beings form'd in coarser mould will hate
The helping hand they ought to venerate;
No wonder George should in this cause prevail,
With one contending who was glad to fail :
'Isaac, farewell! do wipe that doleful eye;
Crying we came, and groaning we may die.
Let us do something 'twixt the groan and cry:
And hear me, brother, whether pay or prize,
One half to thee I give and I devise;
For thou hast oft occasion for the aid
Of learn'd physicians, and they will be paid :
Their wives and children men support, at sea,
And thou, my lad, art wife and child to me:
Farewell!-I go where hope and honour call,
Nor does it follow that who fights must fall.'

Isaac here made a poor attempt to speak,
And a huge tear moved slowly down his cheek;
Like Pluto's iron drop, hard sign of grace,
It slowly roll'd upon the rueful face,
Forced by the striving will alone its way to

trace.

Years fled-war lasted-George at sea remain'd,

While the slow landman still his profits gain'd: A humble place was vacant-he besought His patron's interest, and the office caught;

For still the virgin was his faithful friend, And one so sober could with truth commend, Who of his own defects most humbly thought, And their advice with zeal and reverence sought:

Whom thus the mistress praised, the maid approved,

And her he wedded whom he wisely loved.

No more he needs assistance-but, alas! He fears the money will for liquor pass; Or that the seaman might to flatterers lend, Or give support to some pretended friend : Still he must write-he wrote, and he confess'd That, till absolved, he should be sore distress'd;

But one so friendly would, he thought, forgive The hasty deed-Heav'n knew how he should live;

6

'But you,' he added, as a man of sense,
Have well consider'd danger and expense:
I ran, alas! into the fatal snare,
And now for trouble must my mind prepare;
And how, with children, I shall pick my way,
Through a hard world, is more than I can say:
Then change not, brother, your more happy
state,

Or on the hazard long deliberate.'

All yet is still-but hark ! the winds o'ersweep

The rising waves, and howl upon the deep; Ships late becalm'd on mountain-billows ride

So life is threaten'd, and so man is tried.

Ill were the tidings that arrived from sea, The worthy George must now a cripple be; His leg was lopp'd; and though his heart was sound,

Though his brave captain was with glory crown'd

Yet much it vex'd him to repose on shore,
An idle log, and be of use no more:
True, he was sure that Isaac would receive
All of his brother that the foe might leave;
To whom the seaman his design had sent,
Ere from the port the wounded hero went :
His wealth and expectations told, he knew
Wherein they fail'd, what Isaac's love would
do;

That he the grog and cabin would supply,
Where George at anchor during life would lie.'
The landman read-and, reading, grew

distress'd :

Could he resolve t' admit so poor a guest ? Better at Greenwich might the sailor stay,

In all our crosses, humbly to submit:
Your apprehensions are unwise, unjust;
Forbear repining, and expel distrust.'-
He added, Marriage was the joy of life,'
And gave his service to his brother's wife;
Then vow'd to bear in all expense a part,
And thus concluded, Have a cheerful heart.'
Had the glad Isaac been his brother's guide,
In these same terms the seaman had replied;
At such reproofs the crafty landman smiled,
And softly said- This creature is a child.'

6

So Isaac judged, and to his wife appeal'd, But yet acknowledged it was best to yield : Perhaps his pension, with what sums remain Due or unsquander'd, may the man maintain;

Refuse we must not.'-With a heavy sigh The lady heard, and made her kind reply :Nor would I wish it, Isaac, were we sure How long his crazy building will endure; Like an old house, that every day appears About to fall-he may be propp'd for years; For a few months, indeed, we might comply, But these old batter'd fellows never die.'

The hand of Isaac, George on entering took, With love and resignation in his look; Declared his comfort in the fortune past, And joy to find his anchor safely cast;

All swept away to be perceived no more, Like idle structures on the sandy shore; The chance amusement of the playful boy, That the rude billows in their rage destroy. Poor George confess'd, though loth the

truth to find,

Slight was his knowledge of a brother's mind :
The vulgar pipe was to the wife offence,
The frequent grog to Isaac an expense;
Would friends like hers, she question'd,
I choose to come,

Where clouds of poison'd fume defiled a room?
This could their lady-friend, and Burgess
Steel.

(Teased with his worship's asthma,) bear to feel?

Could they associate or converse with himA loud rough sailor with a timber limb?'

Cold as he grew, still Isaac strove to show, By well-feign'd care, that cold he could not grow;

And when he saw his brother look distress'd,
He strove some petty comforts to suggest ;
On his wife solely their neglect to lay,
And then t' excuse it, as a woman's way;
He too was chidden when her rules he broke,
And then she sicken'd at the scent of smoke.
George, though in doubt, was still consoled
to find

His brother wishing to be reckon'd kind :
That Isaac seem'd concern'd by his distress,
Gave to his injured feelings some redress;
But none he found disposed to lend an ear
To stories, all were once intent to hear:
Except his nephew, seated on his knee,
He found no creature cared about the sea;
But George indeed-for George they call'd
the boy,

When his good uncle was their boast and joy

Would listen long, and would contend with sleep,

To hear the woes and wonders of the deep; Till the fond mother cried- That man will teach

The foolish boy his loud and boisterous speech.'

So judged the father-and the boy was taught
To shun the uncle, whom his love had sought.
The mask of kindness now but seldom worn,
George felt each evil harder to be borne ;
And cried (vexation growing day by day),
'Ah! brother Isaac!-What! I'm in the way! 22

'No! on my credit, look ye, No! but I Am fond of peace, and my repose would buy On any terms-in short, we must comply: My spouse had money-she must have her will

Ah! brother-marriage is a bitter pill.'—

George tried the lady-Sister, I offend.' 'Me?' she replied-'Oh no!—you may depend

On my regard—but watch your brother's way, Whom I, like you, must study and obey.' Ah!' thought the seaman, what a head was mine,

6

That easy berth at Greenwich to resign!
I'll to the parish '——but a little pride,
And some affection, put the thought aside.

Now gross neglect and open scorn he bore
In silent sorrow-but he felt the more:
The odious pipe he to the kitchen took,
Or strove to profit by some pious book.
When the mind stoops to this degraded

state,

New griefs will darken the dependent's fate; 'Brother!' said Isaac,' you will sure excuse The little freedom I'm compell'd to use: My wife's relations-(curse the haughty crew)

Affect such niceness, and such dread of you : You speak so loud-and they have natures soft

Brother-I wish- do go upon the loft! '

Poor George obey'd, and to the garret fled, Where not a being saw the tears he shed: But more was yet required, for guests were come,

Who could not dine if he disgraced the room.
It shock'd his spirit to be esteem'd unfit
With an own brother and his wife to sit;
He grew rebellious-at the vestry spoke
For weekly aid--they heard it as a joke:
So kind a brother, and so wealthy---you
Apply to us?--No! this will never do :
Good neighbour Fletcher,' said the overseer,
'We are engaged-you can have nothing here!'
George mutter'd something in despairing

tone,

Then sought his loft, to think and grieve alone;

Neglected, slighted, restless on his bed,
With heart half broken, and with scraps ill fed;
Yet was he pleased, that hours for play
design'd

Were given to ease his ever-troubled mind;

The child still listen'd with increasing joy,
And he was soothed by the attentive boy.

At length he sicken'd, and this duteous child Watch'd o'er his sickness, and his pains beguiled

The mother bade him from the loft refrain,
But, though with caution, yet he went again;
And now his tales the sailor feebly told,
His heart was heavy, and his limbs were cold:
The tender boy came often to entreat
His good kind friend would of his presents
eat;

Purloin'd or purchased, for he saw, with shame,

The food untouch'd that to his uncle came; Who, sick in body and in mind, received The boy's indulgence, gratified and grieved. 'Uncle will die!' said George—the piteous wife

Exclaim'd,' she saw no value in his life;
But sick or well, to my commands attend,
And go no more to your complaining friend.'
The boy was vex'd, he felt his heart reprove
The stern decree.-What! punish'd for his
love!

No! he would go, but softly to the room,
Stealing in silence-for he knew his doom.

Once in a week the father came to say, George, are you ill?'-and hurried him away;

Yet to his wife would on their duties dwell, And often cry, 'Do use my brother well: And something kind, no question, Isaac meant,

Who took vast credit for the vague intent.

But truly kind, the gentle boy essay'd To cheer his uncle, firm, although afraid; But now the father caught him at the door, And, swearing-yes, the man in office swore, And cried, Away! How! Brother, I'm surprised,

6

That one so old can be so ill advised:
Let him not dare to visit you again,
Your cursed stories will disturb his brain;
Is it not vile to court a foolish boy,
Your own absurd narrations to enjoy ?
What! sullen!-ha! George Fletcher! you
shall see,

Proud as you are, your bread depends on me!'

He spoke, and, frowning, to his dinner went, Then cool'd and felt some qualms of discontent;

And hasten'd up with terror and delight;
'Uncle!' he cried, and softly tapp'd the door;
Do let me in '-but he could add no more;
The careful father caught him in the fact,
And cried, "You serpent! is it thus you act?
Back to your mother!'-and with hasty
blow,

He sent th' indignant boy to grieve below;
Then at the door an angry speech began-
'Is this your conduct ?-is it thus you plan?
Seduce my child, and make my house a scene
Of vile dispute-What is it that you

mean?

George, are you dumb? do learn to know your friends,

And think awhile on whom your bread depends:

What! not a word? be thankful I am coolBut, sir, beware, nor longer play the fool; Come! brother, come! what is it that you seek By this rebellion ?-Speak, you villain, speak!

Weeping! I warrant-sorrow makes you dumb:

I'll ope your mouth, impostor! if I come: Let me approach-I'll shake you from the bed, You stubborn dog-Oh God! my brother's dead!-'

Timid was Isaac, and in all the past He felt a purpose to be kind at last; Nor did he mean his brother to depart, Till he had shown this kindness of his heart: