The Youth, embolden'd, yet abash d. now told His fondest wish, nor found the maiden cold,
The Mother smiling whisperd. "Let him go And seek the licence!"
Fain would I think that Jesse still may come
To share the comforts of our rustic home:
She surely loved thee; I have seen the maid,
When thou hast kindly brought the Vicar aid-
When thou hast eased his bosom of its pain,
Oh! I have seen her-she will come again."
The Matron ceased; and Colin stood the while
Silent, but striving for a grateful smile;
He then replied "Ah! sure, had Jesse stay'd,
And shared the comforts of our sylvan shade,
The tenderest duty and the fondest love
Would not have fail'd that generous heart to move;
A grateful pity would have ruled her breast,
And my distresses would have made me bless'd.
"But she is gone, and ever has in view
Grandeur and taste,-and what will then ensue?
Surprise and then delight in scenes so fair and new ;
For many a day, perhaps for many a week,
Home will have charms, and to her bosom speak;
But thoughtless ease, and affluence, and pride,
Seen day by day, will draw the heart aside:
And she at length, though gentle and sincere,
Will think no more of our enjoyments here."
Sighing he spake-but hark! he hears th' approach
Of rattling wheels! and, lo! the evening coach;
Once more the movement of the horses' feet
Makes the fond heart with strong emotion beat:
Faint were his hopes, but ever had the sight
Drawn him to gaze beside his gate at night;
And when with rapid wheels it hurried by,
He grieved his parent with a hopeless sigh;
And could the blessing have been bought-what sum
Had he not offer'd to have Jesse come!
She came-he saw her bending from the door,
Her face, her smile, and he beheld no more;
Lost in his joy-the mother lent her aid
T'assist and to detain the willing Maid;
Who thought her late, her present home to make,
Sure of a welcome for the Vicar's sake:
But the good parent was so pleased, so kind,
So pressing Colin, she so much inclined,
That night advanced; and then, so long detain'd,
No wishes to depart she felt, or feign'd;
Yet long in doubt she stood, and then perforce remain'd.
Here was a lover fond, a friend sincere;
Here was content and joy, for she was here:
In the mild evening, in the scene around,
The Maid, now free, peculiar beauties found;
Blended with village-tones, the evening gale
Gave the sweet night-bird's warblings to the vale:
The Youth, embolden'd, yet abash'd, now told
His fondest wish, nor found the maiden cold;
The Mother smiling whisper'd, "Let him go
And seek the licence!" Jesse answer'd "No
But Colin went.-I know not if they live
With all the comforts wealth and plenty give ;
But with pure joy to envious souls denied,
To suppliant meanness and suspicious pride;
And village-maids of happy couples say,
"They live like Jesse Bourn and Colin Grey."
THE STRUGGLES OF CONSCIENCE.
I am a villain; yet I lie, I am not:
Fool! of thyself speak well:-Fool! do not flatter.
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale.-Richard III.
My conscience is but a kind of hard conscience. . . . The flend gives the more friendly counsel.-Merchant of Venice.
Thou hast it now-and I fear
Thou play'dst most foully for it.
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
Rase out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?
Oh! coward conscience, how thou dost afflict me.-Richard III.
A SERIOUS Toyman in the city dwelt,
Who much concern for his religion felt;
Reading, he changed his tenets, read again,
And various questions could with skill maintain;
Papist and Quaker if we set aside,
He had the road of every traveller tried;
There walk'd a while, and on a sudden turn'd
Into some by-way he had just discern'd:
He had a nephew, Fulham :-Fulham went
His Uncle's way, with every turn content;
He saw his pious kinsman's watchful care,
And thought such anxicus pains his own might spare,
And he the truth obtain'd, without the toil, might share.
In fact, young Fulham, though he little read,
Perceived his uncle was by fancy led;
And smiled to see the constant care he took,
Collating creed with creed, and book with book.
At length the senior fix'd; I pass the sect
He call'd a Church, 'twas precious and elect;
Yet the seed fell not in the richest soil,
For few disciples paid the preacher's toil;
A in an attic room were wont to meet,
Tese few disciples, at their pastor's feet;
With these went Fulham, who, discreet and grave,
Follow'd the light his worthy uncle gave;
Till a warm Preacher found the way t' impart
Awakening feelings to his torpid heart:
Some weighty truths, and of unpleasant kind,
Sank, though resisted, in his struggling mind:
He wish'd to fly them, but, compell'd to stay,
Truth to the waking Conscience found her way;
For though the Youth was call'd a prudent lad,
And prudent was, yet serious faults he had-
Who now reflected-" Much am I surprised;
I find these notions cannot be despised:
No! there is something I perceive at last,
Although my uncle cannot hold it fast;
Though I the strictness of these men reject,
Yet I determine to be circumspect:
This man alarms me, and I must begin
To look more closely to the things within:
These sons of zeal have I derided long,
But now begin to think the laugher's wrong:
Nay, my good uncle, by all teachers moved,
Will be preferr'd to him who none approved ;-
Better to love amiss than nothing to have loved."
Such were his thoughts, when Conscience first began
fo hold close converse with th' awaken'd man :
He from that time reserved and cautious grew,
And for his duties felt obedience due;
Pious he was not, but he fear'd the pain
C sins committed, nor would sin again:
Whene'er he stray'd, he found his Conscience rose,
Like one determined what was ill t' oppose,
What wrong t' accuse, what secret to disclose;
To drag forth every latent act to light,
And fix them fully in the actor's sight:
This gave him trouble, but he still confess'd
The labour useful, for it brought him rest.
The Uncle died, and when the Nephew read
The will, and saw the substance of the dead-
Five hundred guineas, with a stock in trade-
He much rejoiced, and thought his fortune made;
Yet felt aspiring pleasure at the sight,
And for increase, increasing appetite:
Desire of profit idle habits check'd
(For Fulham's virtue was to be correct);
He and his Conscience had their compact made
"Urge me with truth, and you will soon persuade;
But not," he cried, "for mere ideal things
Give me to feel those terror-breeding stings."
"Let not such thoughts," she said, "your mind confound; Trifles may wake me, but they never wound;
In them indeed there is a wrong and right,
But you will find me pliant and polite;
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