'What! thou hast learn'd my fortune ?yes, I live

To feel how poor the comforts wealth can give; Thou too perhaps art wealthy; but our fate Still mocks our wishes, wealth is come too late.'

'To me nor late nor early; I am come
Poor as I left thee to my native home:
Nor yet,' said Rupert, 'will I grieve; 'tis mine
To share thy comforts, and the glory thine;
For thou wilt gladly take that generous part
That both exalts and gratifies the heart;
While mine rejoices.'' Heavens!' return'd
the maid,

'This talk to one so wither'd and decay'd?
No! all my care is now to fit my mind
For other spousal, and to die resign'd:
As friend and neighbour, I shall hope to see
These noble views, this pious love in thee;
That we together may the change await,
Guides and spectators in each other's fate;
When fellow-pilgrims, we shall daily crave
The mutual prayer that arms us for the grave.'
Half angry, half in doubt, the lover gazed
On the meek maiden, by her speech amazed;
'Dinah,' said he, 'dost thou respect thy vows?
What spousal mean'st thou ?-thou art

Rupert's spouse;

The chance is mine to take, and thine to give ;
But, trifling this, if we together live:
Can I believe, that, after all the past,
Our vows, our loves, thou wilt be false at last?
Something thou hast-I know not what-in
view;

I find thee pious-let me find thee true.'

Ah! cruel this; but do, my friend, depart; And to its feelings leave my wounded heart.' 'Nay, speak at once; and Dinah, let me know,

Mean'st thou to take me, now I'm wreck'd, in tow?

Be fair; nor longer keep me in the dark; Am I forsaken for a trimmer spark? Heav'n's spouse thou art not; nor can I believe

That God accepts her who will man deceive: True I am shatter'd, I have service seen, And service done, and have in trouble been; My cheek (it shames me not) has lost its red, And the brown buff is o'er my features spread; Perchance my speech is rude; for I among Th' untamed have been, in temper and in

tongue;

Give way to weakness, and with passion cry;
These are unmanly struggles, but I feel
This hour must end them, and perhaps will
heal.'-

Here Dinah sigh'd as if afraid to speakAnd then repeated-' They were frail and weak;

His soul she loved, and hoped he had the grace To fix his thoughts upon a better place.'

She ceased;-with steady glance, as if to see
The very root of this hypocrisy,—
He her small fingers moulded in his hard
And bronzed broad hand; then told her his
regard,

His best respect were gone, but love had still
Hold in his heart, and govern'd yet the will-
Or he would curse her :-saying this, he threw
The hand in scorn away, and bade adieu
To every lingering hope, with every care in
view.

Proud and indignant, suffering, sick, and

Till all he felt in indignation died,
As hers had sunk in avarice and pride.

In health declining, as in mind distress'd, To some in power his troubles he confess'd, And shares a parish-gift ;-at prayers he sees The pious Dinah dropped upon her knees; Thence as she walks the street with stately air, As chance directs, oft meet the parted pair: When he, with thickset coat of badge-man's blue,

Moves near her shaded silk of changeful hue; When his thin locks of grey approach her

braid,

A costly purchase made in beauty's aid;

When his frank air, and his unstudied pace, Are seen with her soft manner, air, and grace, And his plain artless look with her sharp

meaning face;

It might some wonder in a stranger move, How these together could have talk'd of love. Behold them now!-see there a tradesman stands,

'Had I,' he thinks, 'been wealthier of the two, Would she have found me so unkind, untrue? Or knows not man when poor, what man when rich will do?

Yes, yes! I feel that I had faithful proved, And should have soothed and raised her, bless'd and loved.'

But Dinah moves-she had observed before

Stay,'

Her air expresses- Hark! to what I say:
Ten paces off, poor Rupert on a seat
Has taken refuge from the noon-day heat,
His eyes on her intent, as if to find

Religion, duty urged the maid to speak
In terms of kindness to a man so weak :
But pride forbad, and to return would prove
She felt the shame of his neglected love;
Nor wrapp'd in silence could she pass, afraid

mind:

How still!-how earnest is he !-it appears His thoughts are wand'ring through his earlier years;

Through years of fruitless labour, to the day When all his earthly prospects died away:

upbraid;

One way remain'd-the way the Levite took, Who without mercy could on misery look ; (A way perceived by craft, approved by pride), She cross'd, and pass'd him on the other side.

It were all one,

That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it; he is so above me:
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
All's Well that Ends Well, Act i, Scene 1.
Poor wretches, that depend
On greatness' favour, dream as I have done,-
Wake and find nothing.

Cymbeline, Act v, Scene 4.
And since.

Th' affliction of my mind amends, with which

I fear a madness held me.

The Tempest, Act v, Scene 1.

A BOROUGH-BAILIFF, who to law was train'd, A wife and sons in decent state maintain'd; He had his way in life's rough ocean steer'd, And many a rock and coast of danger clear'd: He saw where others fail'd, and care had he Others in him should not such failings see; His sons in various busy states were placed, And all began the sweets of gain to taste, Save John, the younger; who, of sprightly parts,

Felt not a love for money-making arts:

In childhood feeble, he, for country air,
Had long resided with a rustic pair;
All round whose room were doleful ballads,
songs,

Of lovers' sufferings and of ladies' wrongs; Of peevish ghosts who came at dark midnight,

For breach of promise, guilty men to fright; Love, marriage, murder, were the themes, with these,

All that on idle, ardent spirits seize; Robbers at land and pirates on the main, Enchanters foil'd, spells broken, giants slain ; Legends of love, with tales of halls and bowers, Choice of rare songs, and garlands of choice flowers,

And all the hungry mind without a choice devours.

From village-children kept apart by pride, With such enjoyments, and without a guide, Inspired by feelings all such works infused, John snatch'd a pen, and wrote as he pe

rused:

With the like fancy he could make his knight Slay half an host and put the rest to flight;

ride

From isle to isle at Parthenissa's side;
And with a heart yet free, no busy brain
Form'd wilder notions of delight and pain,
The raptures smiles create, the anguish of
disdain.

Such were the fruits of John's poetic toil,
Weeds, but still proofs of vigour in the soil:
He nothing purposed but with vast delight,
Let Fancy loose, and wonder'd at her flight:
His notions of poetic worth were high,
And of his own still-hoarded poetry ;-
These to his father's house he bore with pride,
A miser's treasure, in his room to hide;
Till spurr'd by glory, to a reading friend
He kindly show'd the sonnets he had penn'd:
With erring judgment, though with heart
sincere,

That friend exclaim'd,' These beauties must appear.'

In Magazines they claim'd their share of fame, Though undistinguish'd by their author's

name;

And with delight the young enthusiast found The muse of Marcus with applauses crown'd. This heard the father, and with some alarm: The boy,' said he, will neither trade nor farm;

6

He for both law and physic is unfit;
Wit he may have, but cannot live on wit:
Let him his talents then to learning give,
Where verse is honour'd, and where poets
live."

John kept his terms at college unreproved,
Took his degree, and left the life he loved;
Not yet ordain'd, his leisure he employ'd
In the light labours he so much enjoy'd;
His favourite notions and his daring views
Were cherish'd still, and he adored the Muse.
'A little time, and he should burst to light,
And admiration of the world excite;
And every friend, now cool and apt to blame
His fond pursuit, would wonder at his fame.'
When led by fancy, and from view retired,
He call'd before him all his heart desired;
Fame shall be mine, then wealth shall I
possess,

And beauty next an ardent lover bless;
For me the maid shall leave her nobler state,
Happy to raise and share her poet's fate.'
He saw each day his father's frugal board,
With simple fare by cautious prudence stored;

care, And the grand maxims were to save and spare: Yet in his walks, his closet, and his bed, All frugal cares and prudent counsels fled; And bounteous Fancy, for his glowing mind, Wrought various scenes, and all of glorious kind;

Slaves of the ring and lamp! what need of you When Fancy's self such magic deeds can do?

Though rapt in visions of no vulgar kind, To common subjects stoop'd our poet's mind; And oft, when wearied with more ardent flight, He felt a spur satiric song to write; A rival burgess his bold muse attack'd, And whipp'd severely for a well-known fact ; For while he seem'd to all demure and shy, Our poet gazed at what was passing by ; And ev'n his father smiled when playful wit, From his young bard, some haughty object hit.

From ancient times the borough where they
dwelt

Had mighty contest at elections felt:
Sir Godfrey Ball, 'tis true, had held in pay
Electors many for the trying day;
But in such golden chains to bind them all
Required too much for e'en Sir Godfrey Ball.
A member died, and to supply his place,
Two heroes enter'd for th' important race;
Sir Godfrey's friend and Earl Fitzdonnel's son,
Lord Frederick Damer, both prepared to run;
And partial numbers saw with vast delight
Their good young lord oppose the proud old
knight.

Our poet's father, at a first request,
Gave the young lord his vote and interest;
And what he could our poet, for he stung
The foe by verse satiric, said and sung.
Lord Frederick heard of all this youthful zeal,
And felt as lords upon a canvass feel;
He read the satire, and he saw the use
That such cool insult, and such keen abuse,
Might on the wavering minds of voting men
produce;

Then too his praises were in contrast seen, 'A lord as noble as the knight was mean.'

'I much rejoice,' he cried, 'such worth to

find;

To this the world must be no longer blind :
His glory will descend from sire to son,
The Burns of English race, the happier

Chatterton.'

Our poet's mind, now hurried and elate,
Alarm'd the anxious parent for his fate;
Who saw with sorrow, should their friend
succeed,

That much discretion would the poet need.
Their friend succeeded, and repaid the zeal
The poet felt, and made opposers feel,
By praise (from lords how soothing and how
sweet!)

And invitation to his noble seat.

The father ponder'd, doubtful if the brain Of his proud boy such honour could sustain; Pleased with the favours offer'd to a son, But seeing dangers few so ardent shun.

Thus, when they parted, to the youthful breast

The father's fears were by his love impress'd:
'There will you find, my son, the courteous ease
That must subdue the soul it means to please;
That soft attention which ev'n beauty pays
To wake our passions, or provoke our praise;
There all the eye beholds will give delight,
Where every sense is flattered like the sight:
This is your peril; can you from such scene
Of splendour part, and feel your mind serene,
And in the father's humble state resume
The frugal diet and the narrow room? '
To this the youth with cheerful heart replied,
Pleased with the trial, but as yet untried;
And while professing patience, should he fail,
He suffer'd hope o'er reason to prevail.
Impatient, by the morning mail convey'd,
The happy guest his promised visit paid;
And now arriving at the hall, he tried
For air composed, serene and satisfied;
As he had practised in his room alone,
And there acquired a free and easy tone:
There he had said, Whatever the degree
A man obtains, what more than man is he?'
And when arrived- This room is but a room;
Can aught we see the steady soul o'ercome?
Let me in all a manly firmness show,
Upheld by talents, and their value know.'
This reason urged; but it surpass'd his skill
To be in act as manly as in will:
When he his lordship and the lady saw,
Brave as he was, he felt oppress'd with awe;
And spite of verse, that so much praise had

won,

The poet found he was the bailiff's son.

But dinner came, and the succeeding hours Fix'd his weak nerves, and raised his failing powers;

Praised and assured, he ventured once or twice

On some remark, and bravely broke the ice;
So that at night, reflecting on his words,
He found, in time, he might converse with
lords.

Now was the sister of his patron seen-
A lovely creature, with majestic mien ;
Who, softly smiling while she look'd so fair,
Praised the young poet with such friendly air;
Such winning frankness in her looks express'd,
And such attention to her brother's guest,
That so much beauty, join'd with speech so
kind,

Raised strong emotions in the poet's mind;
Till reason fail'd his bosom to defend
From the sweet power of this enchanting
friend.-

Rash boy! what hope thy frantic mind invades ?

What love confuses, and what pride persuades ?

Awake to truth! shouldst thou deluded feed On hopes so groundless, thou art mad indeed. What say'st thou, wise-one? 'that all

powerful love

'Can fortune's strong impediments remove; Nor is it strange that worth should wed to worth,

The pride of genius with the pride of birth.' While thou art dreaming thus, the beauty spies

Love in thy tremor, passion in thine eyes; And with th' amusement pleased, of conquest vain,

She seeks her pleasure, careless of thy pain; She gives thee praise to humble and confound, Smiles to ensnare, and flatters thee to wound.

Why has she said that in the lowest state The noble mind insures a noble fate? And why thy daring mind to glory call? That thou may'st dare and suffer, soar and - fall.

Beauties are tyrants, and if they can reign, They have no feeling for their subjects' pain; Their victim's anguish gives their charms

applause,

And their chief glory is the woe they cause : Something of this was felt, in spite of love, Which hope, in spite of reason, would remove.

Thus lived our youth, with conversation,

books,

And Lady Emma's soul-subduing looks;

Lost in delight, astonish'd at his lot,
All prudence banish'd, all advice forgot-
Hopes, fears, and every thought, were fix'd
upon the spot.

'Twas autumn yet, and many a day must
frown

On Brandon-Hall, ere went my lord to town;
Meantime the father, who had heard his boy
Lived in a round of luxury and joy,
And justly thinking that the youth was one
Who, meeting danger, was unskill'd to shun;
Knowing his temper, virtue, spirit, zeal,
How prone to hope and trust, believe and feel;
These on the parent's soul their weight
impress'd,

And thus he wrote the counsels of his breast. John, thou'rt a genius; thou hast some pretence,

I think, to wit, but hast thou sterling sense? That which, like gold, may through the world go forth,

And always pass for what 'tis truly worth? Whereas this genius, like a bill, must take Only the value our opinions make.

'Men famed for wit, of dangerous talents vain, Treat those of common parts with proud disdain ;

The powers that wisdom would, improving, hide,

Be not a Quixote, ever up in arms
To give the guilty and the great alarms :
If never heeded, thy attack is vain;
And if they heed thee, they'll attack again;
Then too in striking at that heedless rate,
Thou in an instant may'st decide thy fate.

'Leave admonition-let the vicar give Rules how the nobles of his flock should live : Nor take that simple fancy to thy brain, That thou canst cure the wicked and the vain. 'Our Pope, they say, once entertain'd the

And brazen front, half earnest, half in jest,
He dared the bard to battle, and was seen
In all his glory match'd with Pope and spleen;
Himself he stripp'd, the harder blow to hit,
Then boldly match'd his ribaldry with wit;
The poet's conquest Truth and Time proclaim,
But yet the battle hurt his peace and fame.
'Strive not too much for favour; seem at
ease,

please:

Honour so hurried to the light must fade, The lasting laurels flourish in the shade.

'Genius is jealous; I have heard of some Who, if unnoticed, grew perversely dumb; Nay, different talents would their envy raise; Poets have sicken'd at a dancer's praise; And one, the happiest writer of his time, Grew pale at hearing Reynolds was sublime; That Rutland's duchess wore a heavenly smile

And I, said he, neglected all the while!

'A waspish tribe are these, on gilded wings, Humming their lays, and brandishing their stings;

And thus they move their friends and foes among,

Prepared for soothing or satiric song. 'Hear me, my boy; thou hast a virtuous mind

But be thy virtues of the sober kind;

Upon thy lord with decent care attend,
But not too near; thou canst not be a friend;
And favourite be not, 'tis a dangerous post-
Is gain'd by labour, and by fortune lost :
Talents like thine may make a man approved,
But other talents trusted and beloved.
Look round, my son, and thou wilt early see
The kind of man thou art not form'd to be.

'The real favourites of the great are they
Who to their views and wants attention pay,
And pay it ever; who, with all their skill,
Dive to the heart, and learn the secret will;
If that be vicious, soon can they provide
The favourite ill, and o'er the soul preside;
For vice is weakness, and the artful know
Their power increases as the passions grow;
If indolent the pupil, hard their task;
Such minds will ever for amusement ask ;
And great the labour: for a man to choose
Objects for one whom nothing can amuse;
For ere those objects can the soul delight,
They must to joy the soul herself excite ;