Will crown the deed, and you escape their fate
Who plan so wildly, and are wise too late."
The Damsel heard; at first th' advice was strange,
Yet wrought a happy, nay, a speedy change:
"I have no care," she said, when next they met,
But one may wonder, he is silent yet;
He looks around him with his usual stare,
And utters nothing-not that I shall care.”
This pettish humour pleased th' experienced Friend
None need despair, whose silence can offend; "Should I," resumed the thoughtful Lass, "consent To hear the man, the man may now repent:
Think you my sighs shall call him from the plough, Or give one hint, that 'You may woo me now?'"
“Persist, my love,” replied the Friend, "and gain A parent's praise that cannot be in vain.”
The father saw the change, but not the cause,
And gave the altered maid his fond applause;
The coarser manners she in part removed,
In part endured, improving and improved ;
She spoke of household works, she rose betimes,
And said neglect and indolence were crimes ;
The various duties of their life she weigh'd,
And strict attention to her dairy paid;
The names of servants now familiar grew,
And fair Lucinda's from her mind withdrew;
As prudent travellers for their ease assume
Their modes and language to whose lands they come :
So to the Farmer this fair Lass inclined,
Gave to the business of the Farm her mind;
To useful arts she turn'd her hand and eye;
And by her manners told him—" You may try.”
Th' observing Lover more attention paid,
With growing pleasure, to the alter'd maid;
He fear'd to lose her, and began to see
That a slim beauty might a helpmate be :
"Twixt hope and fear he now the lass address'd,
And in his Sunday robe his love express'd :
She felt no chilling dread, no thrilling joy,
Nor was too quickly kind, too slowly coy;
But still she lent an unreluctant ear
To all the rural business of the year;
Till love's strong hopes endured no more delay,
And Harry ask'd, and Nancy named the day.
"A happy change! my Boy," the father cried:
"How lost your sister all her school-day pride?"
The Youth replied, "It is the Widow's deed;
The cure is perfect, and was wrought with speed."-
And comes there, Boy, this benefit of books,
Of that smart dress, and of those dainty looks?
We must be kind—some offerings from the Farm
To the White Cot will speak our feelings warm;
Will show that people, when they know the fact,
Where they have judged severely, can retract.
Oft have I smiled, when I beheld her pass
With cautious step, as if she hurt the grass;
Where, if a snail's retreat she chanced to storm,
She look'd as begging pardon of the worm;
And what, said I, still laughing at the view,
Have these weak creatures in the world to do?
But some are made for action, some to speak;
And, while she looks so pitiful and meek,
Her words are weighty, though her nerves
weak."
Soon told the village-bells the rite was done, That join'd the school-bred Miss and Farmer's Son; Her former habits some slight scandal raised, But real worth was soon perceived and praised; She, her neat taste imparted to the Farm, And he, th' improving skill and vigorous arm.
What though you have beauty,
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ?-As You Like It.
I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed.-As You Like It.
Wilt thou love such a woman? What! to make thee an instrument, and play false strains upon thee !-Not to be endured.As You Like It.
As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her estimation hence.
All's Well that Ends Well.
Be this sweet Helen's knell;
He left a wife whose words all ears took captive,
Whose dear perfections hearts that scorn'd to serve
Humbly call'd Mistress.
All's Well that Ends Well.
THERE was a worthy, but a simple Pair,
Who nursed a Daughter, fairest of the fair:
Sons they had lost, and she alone remain'd,
Heir to the kindness they had all obtain❜d;
Heir to the fortune they design'd for all,
Nor had th' allotted portion then been small;
But now, by fate enrich'd with beauty rare,
They watch'd their treasure with peculiar care :
The fairest features they could early trace,
And, blind with love, saw merit in her face-
Saw virtue, wisdom, dignity, and grace;
And Dorothea, from her infant years,
Gain'd all her wishes from their pride or fears :
She wrote a billet, and a novel read,
And with her fame her vanity was fed;
Each word, each look, each action was a cause
For flattering wonder and for fond applause;
She rode or danced, and ever glanced around,
Seeking for praise, and smiling when she found.
The yielding pair to her petitions gave
An humble friend to be a civil slave;
Who for a poor support herself resign'd
To the base toil of a dependent mind :
By nature cold, our Heiress stoop'd to art,
To gain the credit of a tender heart.
Hence at her door must suppliant paupers stand,
To bless the bounty of her beauteous hand:
And now, her education all complete,
She talk'd of virtuous love and union sweet;
She was indeed by no soft passion moved,
But wish'd, with all her soul, to be beloved.
Here, on the favour'd beauty Fortune smiled;
Her chosen Husband was a man so mild,
So humbly temper'd, so intent to please,
It quite distress'd her to remain at ease,
Without a cause to sigh, without pretence to tease :
She tried his patience in a thousand modes,
And tired it not upon the roughest roads.
Pleasure she sought, and disappointed, sigh'd
For joy, she said, "to her alone denied;"
And she was sure her parents, if alive,
Would many comforts for their child contrive :"
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