And all an husband's sorrow touch'd his heart; Then thought he, Who will their assistance lend?

And be the children's guide, the parent's friend?

Who shall their guardian, their protector be? I have a brother-Well!-and so has he.' And now they met: a message-kind, 'tis true,

But verbal only-ask'd an interview; And many a mile, perplex'd by doubt and fear,

And when he has no better thing in view, Will be rejoiced to see him-Now, adieu!" 'Well! here I am; and, Brother, take you

heed,

I am not come to flatter you and feed;
You shall no soother, fawner, hearer find,
I will not brush your coat, nor smooth your
mind;

I will not hear your tales the whole day long,
Nor swear you're right if I believe you wrong:
Nor be a witness of the facts you state,
Nor as my own adopt your love or hate :
I will not earn my dinner when I dine,
By taking all your sentiments for mine;
Nor watch the guiding motions of your eye,
Before I venture question or reply;
Nor when you speak affect an awe profound,
Sinking my voice, as if I fear'd the sound;
Nor to your looks obediently attend,
The poor, the humble, the dependant friend :
Yet son of that dear mother could I meet-
But lo! the mansion-'tis a fine old seat!'
The Brothers met, with both too much at

heart

To be observant of each other's part; Brother, I'm glad,' was all that George could say,

away;

For he in tender tears had no delight,
But scorn'd the thought, and ridiculed the

sight;

Yet now with pleasure, though with some surprise,

He felt his heart o'erflowing at his eyes.

Richard, mean time, made some attempts to speak,

Strong in his purpose, in his trial weak;
We cannot nature by our wishes rule,
Nor at our will her warm emotions cool ;-
At length affection, like a risen tide,
Stood still, and then seem'd slowly to subside;
Each on the other's looks had power to dwell,
And Brother Brother greeted passing well.

Ar length the Brothers met, no longer tried By those strong feelings that in time subside; Not fluent yet their language, but the eye And action spoke both question and reply; Till the heart rested, and could calmly feel, Till the shook compass felt the settling steel; Till playful smiles on graver converse broke, And either speaker less abruptly spoke: Still was there ofttimes silence, silence blest, Expressive, thoughtful-their emotions' rest; Pauses that came not from a want of thought, But want of ease, by wearied passion sought; For souls, when hurried by such powerful force,

Rest, and retrace the pleasure of the course. They differ'd much; yet might observers

trace

Likeness of features both in mind and face; Pride they possess'd, that neither strove to hide,

But not offensive, not obtrusive pride: Unlike had been their life, unlike the fruits, Of different tempers, studies, and pursuits; Nay, in such varying scenes the men had moved,

For they, like wine, our pleasures raise so high, That they subdue our strength, and then they die.

George in his brother felt a growing pride, He wonder'd who that fertile mind supplied'Where could the wanderer gather on his road

Knowledge so various? how the mind this food?

No college train'd him, guideless through his life,

Without a friend-not so! he has a wife.
Ah! had I married, I might now have seen
My--No! it never, never could have been :
That long enchantment, that pernicious
state!-

True, I recover'd, but alas! too late-
And here is Richard, poor indeed-but-nay!
This is self-torment-foolish thoughts, away!'
Ease leads to habit, as success to ease,
He lives by rule who lives himself to please;
For change is trouble, and a man of wealth
Consults his quiet as he guards his health;
And habit now on George had sovereign power,
His actions all had their accustom'd hour:
At the fix'd time he slept, he walk'd, he read,
Or sought his grounds, his gruel, and his bed;
For every season he with caution dress'd,
And morn and eve had the appropriate vest;
He talk'd of early mists, and night's cold
air,

loved :

But all distinction now was thrown apart, While these strong feelings ruled in either heart.

As various colours in a painted ball,
While it has rest, are seen distinctly all;
Till, whirl'd around by some exterior force,
They all are blended in the rapid course:
So in repose, and not by passion sway'd,
We saw the difference by their habits made;
But, tried by strong emotions, they became
Fill'd with one love, and were in heart the
same;

Joy to the face its own expression sent,
And gave a likeness in the looks it lent.

All now was sober certainty; the joy That no strong passions swell till they destroy:

But not a custom yet on Richard's mind Had force, or him to certain modes confined; To him no joy such frequent visits paid, That habit by its beaten track was made: He was not one who at his ease could say, 'We'll live to-morrow as we lived to-day ;' But he and his were as the ravens fed, As the day came it brought the daily bread. George, born to fortune, though of moder

ate kind,

Was not in haste his road through life to find:
His father early lost, his mother tried
To live without him, liked it not, and-sigh'd,
When, for her widow'd hand, an amorous
youth applied :

She still was young, and felt that she could

share

A lover's passion, and an husband's care;

Yet past twelve years before her son was told, To his surprise, 'your father you behold.' But he beheld not with his mother's eye The new relation, and would not comply; But all obedience, all connexion spurn'd, And fled their home, where he no more return'd.

His father's brother was a man whose mind Was to his business and his bank confined; His guardian care the captious nephew sought, And was received, caress'd, advised, and taught.

That Irish beggar, whom your mother took,

Does you this good, he sends you to your book;
Yet love not books, beyond their proper worth,
But when they fit you for the world, go forth:
They are like beauties, and may blessings
prove,

When we with caution study them, or love;
But when to either we our souls devote,
We grow unfitted for that world, and dote'
George to a school of higher class was sent,
But he was ever grieving that he went :
A still, retiring, musing, dreaming boy,
He relish'd not their sudden bursts of joy;
Nor the tumultuous pleasures of a rude,
A noisy, careless, fearless multitude:

He had his own delights, as one who flies
From every pleasure that a crowd supplies:
Thrice he return'd, but then was weary grown,
And was indulged with studies of his own.

Still could the rector and his friend relate The small adventures of that distant date; And Richard listen'd as they spake of time Past in that world of misery and crime.

Freed from his school, a priest of gentle kind The uncle found to guide the nephew's mind; Pleased with his teacher, George so long remain❜d,

The mind was weaken'd by the store it gain'd. His guardian uncle, then on foreign ground, No time to think of his improvements found; Nor had the nephew, now to manhood grown, Talents or taste for trade or commerce shown, But shunn'd a world of which he little knew, Nor of that little did he like the view.

His mother chose, nor I the choice upbraid, An Irish soldier of an house decay'd, And passing poor, but precious in her eyes As she in his; they both obtain'd a prize. To do the captain justice, she might share What of her jointure his affairs could spare:

Irish he was in his profusion-true,
But he was Irish in affection too;
And though he spent her wealth and made
her grieve,

6

He always said my dear,' and 'with your leave.'

Him she survived: she saw his boy possess'd Of manly spirit, and then sank to rest.

Her sons thus left, some legal cause required That they should meet, but neither this desired:

George, a recluse, with mind engaged, was one Who did no business, with whom none was done;

Whose heart, engross'd by its peculiar care, Shared no one's counsel-no one his might share.

Richard, a boy, a lively boy, was told Of his half-brother, haughty, stern, and cold; And his boy folly, or his manly pride, Made him on measures cool and harsh decide: So, when they met, a distant cold salute Was of a long-expected day the fruit ; The rest by proxies managed, each withdrew,

Vex'd by the business and the brother too; But now they met when time had calm'd the

mind,

Both wish'd for kindness, and it made them kind:

George had no wife or child, and was disposed To love the man on whom his hope reposed: Richard had both; and those so wellbeloved, Husband and father were to kindness moved; And thus th' affections check'd, subdued, restrain❜d,

Rose in their force, and in their fulness reign'd. The bell now bids to dine: the friendly

priest,

Social and shrewd, the day's delight increased: Brief and abrupt their speeches while they dined,

Nor were their themes of intellectual kind; Nor, dinner past, did they to these advance, But left the subjects they discuss'd to chance.

Richard, whose boyhood in the place was

spent,

Profound attention to the speakers lent, Who spake of men; and, as he heard a name, Actors and actions to his memory came: Then, too, the scenes he could distinctly trace, Here he had fought, and there had gain'd

a race;

In that church-walk he had affrighted been, In that old tower he had a something seen; What time, dismiss'd from school, he upward cast

A fearful look, and trembled as he past.

No private tutor Richard's parents sought, Made keen by hardship, and by trouble taught; They might have sent him—some the counsel gave

Seven gloomy winters of the North to brave, Where a few pounds would pay for board and bed,

While the poor frozen boy was taught and fed; When, say helives, fair, freckled, lank and lean, The lad returns shrewd, subtle, close and keen; With all the northern virtues, and the rules Taught to the thrifty in these thriving schools: There had he gone, and borne this trying part, But Richard's mother had a mother's heart. Now squire and rector were return'd to school,

And spoke of him who there had sovereign rule:

He was, it seem'd, a tyrant of the sort

Who make the cries of tortured boys his sport; One of a race, if not extinguish'd, tamed, The flogger now is of the act ashamed;

Is doing nothing-he has not a doubt
But they will love him, nay, applaud, with-

out:

Let no fond sire a boy's ambition trust,
To make him study, let him see he must.'
Such his opinion; and to prove it true,
At least sincere, it was his practice too:
Pluto they call'd him, and they named him
well,

'Twas not an heaven where he was pleased to dwell:

From him a smile was like the Greenland sun, Surprising, nay portentous, when it shone; Or like the lightning, for the sudden flash Prepared the children for the thunder's crash.

O! had Narcissa, when she fondly kiss'd The weeping boy whom she to school dismiss'd,

Had she beheld him shrinking from the arm
Uplifted high to do the greater harm,
Then seen her darling stript, and that pure
white,

And-O! her soul had fainted at the sight; And with those looks that love could not withstand,

She would have cried, 'Barbarian, hold thy hand!'

show

Of grief and crime that in the greater grow. You saw,' said George, 'in that still-hated

school,

We something learn, till we are call'd away; The school we name a world,-for vice and pain,

Fraud and contention, there begin to reign;

cure:

There the best hearts, and those, who shrink from sin,

Find some seducing imp to draw them in ;

Who takes infernal pleasure to impart
The strongest poison to the purest heart.
Call to your mind this scene-Yon boy
behold:

How hot the vengeance of a heart so cold!
See how he beats, whom he had just reviled
And made rebellious-that imploring child :
How fierce his eye, how merciless his blows,
And how his anger on his insult grows;
You saw this Hector and his patient slave,
Th' insulting speech, the cruel blows he gave.
Mix'd with mankind, his interest in his
sight,

6

We found this Nimrod civil and polite; There was no triumph in his manner seen, He was so humble you might think him mean: Those angry passions slept till he attain'd His purposed wealth, and waked when that was gain'd;

He then resumed the native wrath and pride,
The more indulged, as longer laid aside;
Wife, children, servants, all obedience pay,
The slaves at school no greater slaves than
they.

No more dependant, he resumes the rein,
And shows the school-boy turbulence again.
'Were I a poet, I would say, he brings
To recollection some impetuous springs;
See! one that issues from its humble source,
To gain new powers, and run its noisy course;
Frothy and fierce among the rocks it goes,
And threatens all that bound it or oppose:
Till wider grown, and finding large increase,
Though bounded still, it moves along in peace;
And as its waters to the ocean glide,
They bear a busy people on its tide;
But there arrived, and from its channel free,
Those swelling waters meet the mighty sea;
With threat'ning force the new-form'd billows
swell,

And now affright the crowd they bore so well.'
'Yet,' said the rector, 'all these early signs
Of vice are lost, and vice itself declines;
Religion counsels, troubles, sorrows rise,
And the vile spirit in the conflict dies.

Sir Hector Blane, the champion of the school,

Was very blockhead, but was form'd for rule: Learn he could not; he said he could not learn,

But he profess'd it gave him no concern: Books were his horror, dinner his delight, And his amusement to shake hands and fight;

In busy times, a ship might be procured;
He too was pleased to be so early freed,
He now could fight, and he in time might read.
So he has fought, and in his country's cause
Has gain'd him glory, and our hearts'
applause.

No more the blustering boy a school defies,
We see the hero from the tyrant rise,
And in the captain's worth the student's
dulness dies.'

'Be all allow'd;' replied the squire,' I give
Praise to his actions; may their glory live!
Nay, I will hear him in his riper age
Fight his good ship, and with the foe engage;
Nor will I quit him when the cowards fly,
Although, like them, I dread his energy.

But still, my friend, that ancient spirit

reigns,

His powers support the credit of his brains,
Insisting ever that he must be right,
And for his reasons still prepared to fight.
Let him a judge of England's prowess be,
And all her floating terrors on the sea;
But this contents not, this is not denied,
He claims a right on all things to decide;
A kind of patent-wisdom, and he cries,
""Tis so!" and bold the hero that denies.
Thus the boy-spirit still the bosom rules,
And the world's maxims were at first the
school's.'

'No doubt,' said Jacques, there are in minds the seeds

Of good and ill, the virtues and the weeds;
But is it not of study the intent
This growth of evil nature to prevent?