The child is pleased to meet regard from age, They love to pour into the ductile mind; The father, thankful for the good he had, Yet saw with pain a whining timid lad; Whom he instructing led through cultured fields, To show what man performs, what nature yields: But Stephen, listless, wander'd from the view, From beasts he fled, for butterflies he flew, And idly gazed about, in search of something new. The lambs indeed he loved, and wish'd to play With things so mild, so harmless, and so gay; Best pleased the weakest of the flock to see, With whom he felt a sickly sympathy. Meantime, the dame was anxious, day and night, To guide the notions of her babe aright, And on the favourite mind to throw her glimmering light; Her Bible-stories she impress'd betimes, And fill'd his head with hymns and holy rhymes; On powers unseen, the good and ill, she dwelt, And the poor boy mysterious terrors felt; From frightful dreams, he waking sobb'd in dread, Till the good lady came to guard his bed. The father wish'd such errors to correct, But let them pass in duty and respect : But more it grieved his worthy mind to see That Stephen never would a farmer be; In vain he tried the shiftless lad to guide, And yet 'twas time that something should be tried: He at the village-school perchance might gain All that such mind could gather and retain; Yet the good dame affirm'd her favourite child Was apt and studious, though sedate and mild; "That he on many a learned point could speak, And that his body, not his mind, was weak.' The father doubted-but to school was sent The timid Stephen, weeping as he went : There the rude lads compell'd the child to fight, And sent him bleeding to his home at night; At this the grandam more indulgent grew, On pains and care, was at his fingers' ends. A London cousin soon a place obtain❜d, Easy but humble-little could be gain'd : The time arrived when youth and age must part, 6 Tears in each eye, and sorrow in each heart; While others daring, yet imbecile, fly Stephen, whose thoughts were wandering Now charm'd with promised sights in Londontown, Now loth to leave his grandam-lost the force, The drift and tenor of this grave discourse; But, in a general way, he understood "Twas good advice, and meant, My son, be good; ' And Stephen knew that all such precepts mean, That lads should read their Bible, and be clean. The good old lady, though in some distress, Begg'd her dear Stephen would his grief suppress; 6 Nay, dry those eyes, my child-and, first of all, Hold fast thy faith, whatever may befall : Be you a Joseph, and the time may be, The Scriptures must not be The lad, still weeping, heard the wheels approach, And took his place within the evening coach, With heart quite rent asunder: On one side Was love, and grief, and fear, for scenes untried; Wild-beasts and wax-work fill'd the happier part Of Stephen's varying and divided heart: This he betray'd by sighs and questions strange, Of famous shows, the Tower, and the Exchange. Soon at his desk was placed the curious boy, Demure and silent at his new employ: Yet as he could, he much attention paid To all around him, cautious and afraid; On older clerks his eager eyes were fix'd, But Stephen never in their council mix'd: Much their contempt he fear'd, for if like them, He felt assured he should himself contemn; Oh! they were all so eloquent, so free, No! he was nothing-nothing could he be: They dress so smartly, and so boldly look, And talk as if they read it from a book; But I,' said Stephen, will forbear to speak, And they will think me prudent and not weak. 6 They talk, the instant they have dropp'd the pen, Of singing-women and of acting-men; Of plays and places where at night they walk There's one among them looks a little kind; Alas! poor Stephen, happier had he kept He could but marvel how he ventured there: A near relation, and that makes him free;' Now to a play the friendly couple went, But the boy murmur'd at the money spent ; 'He loved,' he said, to buy, but not to spend They only talk awhile, and there's an end.' 'Come, you shall purchase books," the friend replied; 'You are bewilder'd, and you want a guide; To me refer the choice, and you shall find The light break in upon your stagnant mind!' The cooler clerks exclaim'd,' In vain your art T'improve a cub without a head or heart; Rustics though coarse, and savages though Our cares may render liberal and mild; There is no dealing with a lack of brains.'- Stephen beheld his books- I love to know the 'You need not lay the good old book aside; In the cold miser, of all change afraid, Order to these is armour and defence, use; But evil fate was theirs-survey'd, enjoy'd Some happy months, and then by force destroy'd: So will'd the fates-but these with patience, read, Had vast effect on Stephen's heart and head. This soon appear'd-within a single week He oped his lips, and made attempt to speak; He fail'd indeed-but still his friend confess'd The best have fail'd, and he had done his best: The first of swimmers, when at first he swims, The cramp may seize him, and impede his course. Encouraged thus, our clerk again essay'd The daring act, though daunted and afraid; Succeeding now, though partial his success, The books were view'd, the price was fairly And pertness mark'd his manner and address, paid, And Stephen read undaunted, undismay'd: This love, but seldom in the world succeeds; With all that merits scorn. and all that meets Yet such improvement issued from his books, Two years had pass'd; the youth attended still, (Though thus accomplish'd) with a ready quill; He sat th' allotted hours, though hard the case, While timid prudence ruled in virtue's place; He kept their virtuous precepts in his mind, sign'd: was But now he wrote of Sunday walks and views, This let him know.' It would bis wrath Of actors' names, choice novels, and strange news; How coats were cut, and of his urgent need 'Stephen, though steady at his desk, was grown A rake and coxcomb-this he grieved to own; The works of atheists half the number made, If from the scandal and pollution freed: Oh, send him down,' the father soon 'Let me behold him, and my skill be tried: If care and kindness lose their wonted use, Some rougher medicine will the end produce.' Stephen with grief and anger heard his doom Go to the farmer? to the rustic's home? Curse the base threat'ning-'' Nay, child, never curse; Corrupted long, your case is growing worse.'I!' quoth the youth, I challenge all mankind To find a fault; what fault have you to find? Improve I not in manner, speech, and grace? Inquire my friends will tell it to your face; Have I been taught to guard his kine and sheep? A man like me has other things to keep; excite : He fear'd a crisis, and he shunn'd dispute; These to the grandam he with freedom spoke, Once he the names of saints and patriarchs Why, sins you think it sinful but to name Have gain'd both wives and widows wealth and fame; old, Judges and kings, and chiefs and prophets, told; Then he in winter-nights the Bible took, The very letter in the middle placed, Thy faith like water runneth fast away; The prince of devils hath, I fear, beguiled The ready wit of my backsliding child.' On this, with lofty looks, our clerk began His grave rebuke, as he assumed the man'There is no devil,' said the hopeful youth, 'Nor prince of devils; that I know for truth: Have I not told you how my books describe The arts of priests and all the canting tribe? Your Bible mentions Egypt, where it seems Was Joseph found when Pharaoh dream'd his dreams : Now in that place, in some bewilder'd head, (The learned write,) religious dreams were bred; Whence through the earth, with various forms combined, They came to frighten and afflict mankind, 'Oh ! wicked! wicked! my unhappy child, How hast thou been by evil men beguiled!' 'How! wicked, say you? you can little guess The gain of that which you call wickedness: -Hold, in mercy hold-' Father, oh! father! throw the whip away; I was but jesting, on my knees I prayThere, hold his arm-oh! leave us not alone: In pity cease, and I will yet atone For all my sin-' In vain; stroke after stroke, On side and shoulder, quick as mill-wheels broke ; Quick as the patient's pulse, who trembling cried, And still the parent with a stroke replied; Till all the medicine he prepared was dealt, And every bone the precious influence felt; Till all the panting flesh was red and raw, And every thought was turn'd to fear and awe; Till every doubt to due respect gave placeSuch cures are done when doctors know the case. 'Oh! I shall die-my father! do receive My dying words; indeed I do believe; The books are lying books, I know it well, There is a devil, oh! there is a hell; And I'm a sinner: spare me, I am young, My sinful words were only on my tongue; My heart consented not; 'tis all a lie: Oh! spare me then, I'm not prepared to die.' 'Vain, worthless, stupid wretch!' the father cried, 'Dost thou presume to teach? art thou a |