And should a stripling look till he were blind,
You would not justly call the light unkind:
But is he dead? and am I to suppose
The power of poison in such looks as those?"
She spoke, and pointing to the mirror, cast
A pleased gay glance, and curtsied as she pass'd.

My Lord, to whom the poet's fate was told Was much affected, for a man so cold: "Dead!" said his lordship,

66

run distracted, mad! Upon my soul I'm sorry for the lad;

suppose,

And now, no doubt, th' obliging world will say
That my harsh usage help'd him on his way :
What! I
I should have nursed his muse,
And with champagne have brightened up his views;
Then had he made me famed my whole life long,
And stunn'd my ears with gratitude and song.
Still should the father hear that I regret
Our joint misfortune-Yes! I'll not forget,"-

Thus they :-The father to his grave convey'd
The son he loved, and his last duties paid.

"There lies my Boy," he cried, "of care bereft, And, Heav'n be praised, I've not a genius left : No one among ye, sons! is doomed to live On high-raised hopes of what the Great may give ; None, with exalted views and fortunes mean, To die in anguish, or to live in spleen : Your pious brother soon escaped the strife Of such contention, but it cost his life; You then, my sons, upon yourselves depend, And in your own exertions find the friend."

84

TALE VI.

THE FRANK COURTSHIP.

Yes, faith, it is my cousin's duty to make a curtsy, and say, "Father, as it please you;" but for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsy, and say, "Father, as it pleases me."-Much Ado about Nothing.

He cannot flatter, he!

An honest mind and plain-he must speak truth.—King Lear.

God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another; you jig, you amble, you nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance.-Hamlet.

What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?
Am I contemn'd for pride and scorn so much?

Much Ado about Nothing.

GRAVE Jonas Kindred, Sybil Kindred's sire,
Was six feet high, and look'd six inches higher;
Erect, morose, determined, solemn, slow,

Who knew the man, would never cease to know •
His faithful spouse, when Jonas was not by,
Had a firm presence and a steady eye;

But with her husband dropp'd her look and tone
And Jonas ruled unquestion'd and alone.

He read, and oft would quote the sacred words, How pious husbands of their wives were lords; Sarah called Abraham Lord! and who could be, So Jonas thought, a greater man than he? Himself he view'd with undisguised respect, And never pardon'd freedom or neglect.

They had one daughter, and this favourite child Had oft the father of his spleen beguiled, Soothed by attention from her early years, She gain'd all wishes by her smiles or tears: But Sybil then was in that playful time, When contradiction is not held a crime; When parents yield their children idle praise For faults corrected in their after days.

Peace in the sober house of Jonas dwelt,
Where each his duty and his station felt:
Yet not that peace some favour'd mortals find,
In equal views and harmony of mind;

Not the soft peace that blesses those who love,
Where all with one consent in union move;
But it was that which one superior will
Commands, by making all inferiors still;
Who bids all murmurs, all objections cease,
And with imperious voice announces-Peace!

They were, to wit, a remnant of that crew, Who, as their foes maintain, their Sovereign slew; An independent race, precise, correct, Who ever married in the kindred sect: No son or daughter of their order wed

A friend to England's king who lost his head; Cromwell was still their Saint, and when they met, They mourn'd that Saints were not our rulers yet.

I

Fix'd were their habits; they arose betimes,
Then pray'd their hour, and sang their party-rhymes :
Their meals were plenteous, regular and plain;
The trade of Jonas brought him constant gain;
Vender of hops and malt, of coals and corn-
And, like his father, he was merchant born :

Neat was their house; each table, chair, and stool,
Stood in its place, or moving moved by rule;
No lively print or picture graced the room;
A plain brown paper lent its decent gloom;
But here the eye, in glancing round, survey'd
A small recess that seem'd for china made;
Such pleasing pictures seem'd this pencill'd ware,
That few would search for nobler objects there—
Yet, turn'd by chosen friends, and there appear'd
His stern, strong features, whom they all revered;
For there in lofty air was seen to stand
The bold Protector of the conquer'd land;
Drawn in that look with which he wept and swore,
Turn'd out the members, and made fast the door,
Ridding the house of every knave and drone,
Forced, though it grieved his soul, to rule alone.
The stern still smile each friend approving gave,
Then turn'd the view, and all again were grave.

There stood a clock, though small the owner's need,

For habit told when all things should proceed;
Few their amusements, but when friends appear'd,
They with the world's distress their spirits cheer'd;
The nation's guilt, that would not long endure
The reign of man so modest and so pure:
Their town was large, and seldom pass'd a day
But some had fail'd, and others gone astray;
Clerks had absconded, wives eloped, girls flown
To Gretna-Green, or sons rebellious grown;

Quarrels and fires arose ;-and it was plain

The times were bad; the Saints had ceased to reign! A few yet lived, to languish and to mourn

For good old manners never to return.

Jonas had sisters, and of these was one
Who lost a husband and an only son :

Twelve months her sables she in sorrow wore,

And mourn'd so long that she could mourn no

more.

Distant from Jonas, and from all her race,

She now resided in a lively place;

There, by the sect unseen, at whist she play'd,
Nor was of churchmen or their church afraid :
If much of this the graver brother heard,
He something censured, but he little fear'd;
He knew her rich and frugal; for the rest,
He felt no care, or, if he felt, suppress'd :
Nor for companion when she ask'd her Niece,
Had he suspicions that disturb'd his peace;
Frugal and rich, these virtues as a charm
Preserved the thoughtful man from all alarm;
An infant yet, she soon would home return,
Nor stay the manners of the world to learn ;
Meantime his boys would all his care engross,
And be his comforts if he felt the loss.

The sprightly Sybil, pleased and unconfined,
Felt the pure pleasure of the op'ning mind:
All here was gay and cheerful-all at home
Unvaried quiet and unruffled gloom :

There were no changes, and amusements few ;

Here, all was varied, wonderful, and new ;

There were plain meals, plain dresses, and grave

looks

Here, gay companions and amusing books;