to prayer!

Be clean, be sober, to thy priest apply, And-dead to all around thee-learn to die!" 'Now had I rest from life's strong hopes and

fears,

And no disturbance mark'd the flying years; So on in quiet might those years have past, But for a light adventure, and a last.

A handsome boy, from school-day bondage free,

Came with mamma to gaze upon the sea;
With soft blue eye he look'd upon the waves,
And talk'd of treacherous rocks, and seamen's
graves:

There was much sweetness in his boyish smile,
And signs of feelings frank, that knew notguile.
"The partial mother, of her darling proud,
Besought my friendship, and her own avow'd;
She praised her Rupert's person, spirit, ease,
How fond of study, yet how form'd to please;
In our discourse he often bore a part,
And talk'd, heaven bless him, of his feeling
heart;

He spoke of pleasures souls like his enjoy,
And hated Lovelace like a virtuous boy;
He felt for Clementina's holy strife,
And was Sir Charles as large and true as life:
For Virtue's heroines was his soul distress'd;
True love and guileless honour fill'd his breast,
When, as the subjects drew the frequent sigh,
The tear stood trembling in his large blue eye,
And softly he exclaim'd, "Sweet, sweetest
sympathy."

'When thus I heard the handsome stripling speak,

I smiled assent, and thought to pat his cheek; But when I saw the feelings blushing there, Signs of emotions strong, they said-forbear! 'The youth would speak of his intent to live On that estate which heaven was pleased to give,

There with the partner of his joys to dwell, And nurse the virtues that he loved so well; The humble good of happy swains to share, And from the cottage drive distress and care;

By boyish love, that woman's pride refused? This I acknowledge, and from day to day Resolved no longer at such game to play; Yet I forbore, though to my purpose true, And firmly fix'd to bid the youth adieu.

"There was a moonlight eve, serenely cool, When the vast ocean seem'd a mighty pool; Save the small rippling waves that gently beat,

We scarcely heard them falling, at our feet:
His mother absent, absent every sound
And every sight that could the youth con-
found;

The arm, fast lock'd in mine, his fear betray'd,
And when he spoke not, his designs convey'd;
He oft-times gasp'd for breath, he tried to

speak,

And studying words, at last had words to seek,

'Silent the boy, by silence more betray'd, And feeling lest he should appear afraid,

'Sir Owen Dale his fortieth year had seen, With temper placid, and with mind serene; Rich; early married to an easy wife, They led in comfort a domestic life: He took of his affairs a prudent care, And was by early habit led to spare; Not as a miser, but in pure good taste, That scorn'd the idle wantonness of waste. 'In fact, the lessons he from prudence took Were written in his mind, as in a book: There what to do he read, and what to shun; And all commanded was with promptness done; He seem'd without a passion to proceed, Or one whose passions no correction need; Yet some believed those passions only slept, And were in bounds by early habits kept: Curb'd as they were by fetters worn so long, There were who judged them a rebellious throng.

'To these he stood, not as a hero true, Who fought his foes, and in the combat slew, But one who all those foes, when sleeping, found,

And, unresisted, at his pleasure bound.

'We thought-for I was one-that we espied Some indications strong of dormant pride; It was his wish in peace with all to live; And he could pardon, but could not forgive: Nay, there were times when stern defiance shook

The moral man, and threaten'd in his look. 'Should these fierce passions-so we reason'd

-break

Their long-worn chain, what ravage will they make!

In vain will prudence then contend with pride, And reason vainly bid revenge subside; Anger will not to meek persuasion bend, Nor to the pleas of hope or fear attend: What curb shall, then, in their disorder'd race, Check the wild passions? what the calm replace ?

Virtue shall strive in vain; and has he help in grace?

'While yet the wife with pure discretion ruled,

The man was guided, and the mind was school'd;

But then that mind unaided ran to waste: He had some learning, but he wanted taste: Placid, not pleased-contented, not employ'd,

He neither time improved, nor life enjoy'd. "That wife expired, and great the loss sus

tain❜d,

Though much distress he neither felt nor feign'd;

He loved not warmly; but the sudden stroke Deeply and strongly on his habits broke.

'He had no child to soothe him, and his

farm,

His sports, his speculations, lost their charm ; Then would he read and travel, would fre

quent

Life's busy scenes, and forth Sir Owen went : The mind, that now was free, unfix'd, uncheck'd,

Read and observed with wonderful effect; And still the more he gain'd, the more he long'd

To pay that mind his negligence had wrong'd; He felt his pleasures rise as he improved; And, first enduring, then the labour loved.

'But, by the light let in, Sir Owen found Some of those passions had their chain unbound;

As from a trance they rose to act their part,
And seize, as due to them, a feeling heart.
'His very person now appear'd refined,
And took some graces from th' improving
mind:

He grew polite without a fix'd intent,
And to the world a willing pupil went.

'Restore him twenty years,-restore him ten,

And bright had been his earthly prospect then; But much refinement, when it late arrives, May be the grace, not comfort, of our lives.

666

""So, when my heart is bleeding in his sight, His love acknowledged will the pains requite;

sight,

And each new object gave a new delight.
He, like th' imperfect creature who had shaped
A shroud to hide him, had at length escaped;
Changed from his grub-like state, to crawl no
more,

But a wing'd being, pleased and form'd to

soar.

'Now, said his friends, while thus his views improve,

And his mind softens, what if he should love?
True; life with him has yet serene appear'd,
And therefore love in wisdom should be
fear'd:

Forty and five his years, and then to sigh
For beauty's favour!-Son of frailty, fly!
'Alas! he loved; it was our fear, but ours,
His friends alone. He doubted not his pow'rs
To win the prize, or to repel the charm,
To gain the battle, or escape the harm;
For he had never yet resistance proved,
Nor fear'd that friends should say " Alas!
he loved."

'Younger by twenty years, Camilla found Her face unrivall'd when she smiled or frown'd:

Of all approved; in manner, form, and air,
Made to attract; gay, elegant, and fair:
She had, in beauty's aid, a fair pretence
To cultivated, strong intelligence;
For she a clear and ready mind had fed
With wholesome food; unhurt by what she

read;

She loved to please; but, like her dangerous sex,

To please the more whom she design'd to

vex.

"This heard Sir Owen, and he saw it true; It promised pleasure, promised danger too; But this he knew not then, or slighted if he knew.

'Yet he delay'd, and would by trials prove That he was safe; would see the signs of love; Would not address her while a fear remain'd; But win his way, assured of what he gain'd. 'This saw the lady, not displeased to find A man at once so cautious and so blind :

Well, good Sir Owen ! let us play our cards." 'He spake her praise in terms that love

affords,

By words select, and looks surpassing words:
Kindly she listen'd, and in turn essay'd ́
To pay th' applauses-and she amply paid
A beauty flattering!-beauteous flatterers
feel

The ill you cause, when thus in praise you deal;

For surely he is more than man, or less, When praised by lips that he would die to press,

And yet his senses undisturbed can keep,
Can calmly reason, or can soundly sleep.

'Not so Sir Owen; him Camilla praised, And lofty hopes and strong emotions raised; This had alone the strength of man subdued; But this enchantress various arts pursued.

Let others pray for music-others pray'd In vain :-Sir Owen ask'd, and was obey'd; Let others, walking, sue that arm to take, Unmoved she kept it for Sir Owen's sake; Each small request she granted, and though small,

He thought them pledges of her granting all.

'And now the lover, casting doubt aside, Urged the fond suit that could not be denied ;

Joy more than reverence moved him when he said,

"Now banish all my fears, angelic maid! And as she paused for words, he gaily cried, "I must not, cannot, will not be denied."

'Ah! good Sir Owen, think not favours,

such

As artful maids allow, amount to much; The sweet, small, poison'd baits, that take the eye

And win the soul of all who venture nigh.

'Camilla listen'd, paused, and look'd surprise, Fair witch! exulting in her witcheries! She turn'd aside her face, withdrew her hand, And softly said, "Sir, let me understand."

"Nay, my dear lady! what can words explain,

If all my looks and actions plead in vain ?