is beauty bought. Do not, dear Charles, with indignation glow, All value that the want of which they know; Nor do I blame her; none that worth denies: But can my son be sure of what he buys? Beauty she has, but with it can you find The inquiring spirit, or the studious mind? This wilt thou need who art to thinking prone, And minds unpair'd had better think alone; Then how unhappy will the husband be, Whose sole associate spoils his company ? This he would try; but all such trials prove Too mighty for a man disposed to love; He whom the magic of a face enchains But little knowledge of the mind obtains; If by his tender heart the man is led, He finds how erring is the soundest head. 'The lady saw his purpose; she could

meet

The man's inquiry, and his aim defeat;
She had a studied flattery in her look,
She could be seen retiring with a book;
She by attending to his speech could prove,
That she for learning had a fervent love;
Yet love alone she modestly declared,
She must be spared inquiry, and was spared;
Of her poor studies she was not so weak,
As in his presence, or at all, to speak;
But to discourse with him-who, all agreed,
Has read so much, would be absurd indeed;
Ask what he might, she was so much a dunce
She would confess her ignorance at once.

All this the man believed not,-doom'd to grieve

For this belief, he this would not believe: No! he was quite in raptures to discern That love, and that avidity to learn. "Could she have found," she said, 46 a friend,

a guide, Like him, to study had been all her pride; But, doom'd so long to frivolous employ, How could she those superior views enjoy ? The day might come-a happy day for her, When she might choose the ways she should prefer."

'Then too he learn'd, in accidental way, How much she grieved to lose the given day In dissipation wild, in visitation gay. Happy, most happy, must the woman prove Who proudly looks on him she vows to love; Who can her humble acquisitions state, That he will praise, at least will tolerate.

'Still the cool mother sundry doubts ex

The second moon a light less vivid shed,
And now the silver rays were tinged with lead.
They now began to look beyond the Hall,
And think what friends would make a
morning-call;

Their former appetites return'd, and now
Both could their wishes and their tastes avow;
'Twas now no longer "just what you approve,"
But "let the wild fowl be to-day, my love."
In fact the senses, drawn aside by force
Of a strong passion, sought their usual course.
'Now to her music would the wife repair,
To which he listen'd once with eager air;
When there was so much harmony within,
That any note was sure its way to win;
But now the sweet melodious tones were sent
From the struck chords, and none cared
where they went.

Full well we know that many a favourite air,
That charms a party, fails to charm a pair;
And as Augusta play'd she look'd around,
To see if one was dying at the sound:
But all were gone-a husband, wrapt in
gloom,

Stalk'd careless, listless, up and down the

room.

'And now 'tis time to fill that ductile mind With knowledge, from his stores of various kind :

His mother, in a peevish mood, had ask'd, "Does your Augusta profit? is she task'd?" "Madam!" he cried, offended with her looks,

"There's time for all things, and not all for books:

Just on one's marriage to sit down, and prate On points of learning, is a thing I hate.-"

"Tis right, my son, and it appears to me, If deep your hatred, you must well agree." 'Finch was too angry for a man so wise, And said, "Insinuation I despise ! Nor do I wish to have a mind so full Of learned trash-it makes a woman dull: Let it suffice, that I in her discern An aptitude, and a desire to learn.-"

'The matron smiled, but she observed a frown

On her son's brow, and calmly sat her down; Leaving the truth to Time, who solves our doubt,

By bringing his all-glorious daughter outTruth! for whose beauty all their love profess, And yet how many think it ugliness!

"Augusta, love," said Finch, "while you

engage

In that embroidery, let me read a page;
Suppose it Hume's; indeed he takes a side,
But still an author need not be our guide;
And as he writes with elegance and ease,
Do now attend-he will be sure to please.
Here at the Revolution we commence,-
We date, you know, our liberties from hence
Yes, sure," Augusta answer'd with a
smile,

666

"Our teacher always talk'd about his style,
When we about the Revolution read,
And how the martyrs to the flames were led ;
The good old bishops, I forget their names,
But they were all committed to the flames;
Maidens and widows, bachelors and wives,—
The very babes and sucklings lost their lives.
I read it all in Guthrie at the school,—
What now!—I know you took me for a fool;
There were five bishops taken from the stall,
And twenty widows, I remember all;
And by this token, that our teacher tried
To cry for pity, till she howl'd and cried."
““True, true, my love, but you mistake

said I wish'd to learn, And so I think I did; and you replied, The wish was good: what would you now beside ?

Did not you say it show'd an ardent mind; And pray what more do you expect to find?" "My dear Augusta, could you wish indeed For any knowledge, and not then proceed? That is not wishing

6.66

Mercy! how you tease! You knew I said it with a view to please; A compliment to you, and quite enough,— You would not kill me with that puzzling stuff! Sure I might say I wish'd; but that is still Far from a promise: it is not,' I will.'

""But come, to show you that I will not hide My proper talents, you shall be my guide; And lady Boothby, when we meet, shall cry, She's quite as good a botanist as I."

6.66

Right, my Augusta ;" and, in manner grave,

Finch his first lecture on the science gave; An introduction,—and he said, “My dear, Your thought was happy,-let us persevere; And let no trifling cause our work retard,-" Agreed the lady, but she fear'd it hard.

Now o'er the grounds they rambled many
a mile;

He show'd the flowers, the stamina, the style,
Calix and corol, pericarp and fruit,
And all the plant produces, branch and root;
Of these he treated, every varying shape,
Till poor Augusta panted to escape:
He show'd the various foliage plants produce,
Lunate and lyrate, runcinate, retuse;
Long were the learned words, and urged with
force,

Panduriform, pinnatifid, premorse,
Latent, and patent, papulous, and plane,-
"Oh!" said the pupil, "it will turn my
brain."

That is a joke-here, look, and I will show All I remember."-Doleful was the look Of the preceptor, when he shut his book, (The system brought to aid them in their view,)

And now with sighs return'd-" It will not do."

'A handsome face first led him to suppose, There must be talent with such looks as those; The want of talent taught him now to find The face less handsome with so poor a mind; And half the beauty faded, when he found His cherish'd hopes were falling to the ground. 'Finch lost his spirit; but e'en then he sought

For fancied powers: she might in time be taught.

Sure there was nothing in that mind to fear; The favourite study did not yet appear.

'Once he express'd a doubt if she could look For five succeeding minutes on a book; When, with awaken'd spirit, she replied, "He was mistaken, and she would be tried."

'With this delighted, he new hopes ex

press'd,

"How do I know ?-She may abide the test? Men I have known, and famous in their day, Who were by chance directed in their way: I have been hasty.-Well, Augusta, well, What is your favourite reading? prithee 'tell;

Our different tastes may different books require,

Yours I may not peruse, and yet admire : Do then explain ""Good Heaven!" said

she, in haste, "How do I hate these lectures upon taste!"

They had warm passions, tender hopes, desires That youth indulges, and that love inspires; But fortune frown'd on their designs, displaced

The views of hope, and love's gay dreams disgraced;

Took from the soul her sunny views, and spread

A cloud of dark but varying gloom instead: And shall we these with ridicule pursue, Because they did not what they could not do? If they their lot preferr'd, still why the jest On those who took the way they judged the best?

But if they sought a change, and sought in vain,

'Tis worse than brutal to deride their painBut you will see them; see the man I praise, The kind protector in my troubled days, Himself in trouble; you shall see him now, And learn his worth! and my applause allow.' This friend appear'd, with talents form'd to please,

And with some looks of sprightliness and ease; To him indeed the ills of life were known, But misery had not made him all her own. They spoke on various themes, and George design'd

To show his brother this, the favourite mind; To lead the friend, by subjects he could choose, To paint himself, his life, and earlier views, What he was bless'd to hope, what he was doom'd to lose.

They spoke of marriage, and he understood Their call on him, and said, 'It is not good To be alone, although alone to be

Is freedom; so are men in deserts free;
Men who unyoked and unattended groan,
Condemn'd and grieved to walk their way
alone :

Whatever ills a married pair betide,
Each feels a stay, a comfort, or a guide;
"Not always comfort," will our wits reply.
Wits are not judges, nor the cause shall try.
'Have I not seen, when grief his visits paid,
That they were easier by communion made?
True, with the quiet times and days serene,
There have been flying clouds of care and
spleen ;

But is not man, the solitary, sick
Of his existence, sad and splenetic ?
And who will help him, when such evils come,

'Do you not find, that joy within the breast Of the unwedded man is soon suppress'd; While, to the bosom of a wife convey'd, Increase is by participation made?— The lighted lamp that gives another light, Say, is it by th' imparted blaze less bright? Are not both gainers when the heart's distress Is so divided, that the pain is less? And when the tear has stood in either eye, Love's sun shines out, and they are quickly dry.'

He ended here,-but would he not confess, How came these feelings on his mind to

press ?

He would! nor fear'd his weakness to display To men like them; their weakness too had they.

Bright shone the fire, wine sparkled, sordid

care

Was banish'd far, at least appear'd not there;
A kind and social spirit each possess'd,
And thus began his tale the friendly guest.

'Near to my father's mansion,-but apart, I must acknowledge, from my father's heartDwelt a keen sportsman, in a pleasant seat; Nor met the neighbours as should neighbours meet:

To them revenge appear'd a kind of right,
A lawful pleasure, an avow'd delight;
Their neighbours too blew up their passions'
fire,

And urged the anger of each rival-squire ;
More still their waspish tempers to inflame,
A party-spirit, friend of anger, came:
Oft would my father cry, "that tory-knave,
That villain-placeman, would the land en-
slave."

Not that his neighbour had indeed a place,
But would accept one-that was his disgrace;
Who, in his turn, was sure my father plann'd
To revolutionize his native land.

He dared the most destructive things advance,
And even pray'd for liberty to France;
Had still good hope that Heaven would grant
his prayer,

That he might see a revolution there.
At this the tory-squire was much perplex'd,
"Freedom in France!-what will he utter
next?

Sooner should I in Paris look to see