When, with the lightning speed that Genii bear
A spell-bound mistress through the pathless air,

He, on the wings of duty borne, might fly,

Wait no consent, solicit no reply,

But, with the zeal no lesser views impart,

Bear to his home the Mother of his heart.

There Leisure's hand should string her favour'd lyre, And bid her Genius to its height aspire,

Nor tutor idiots with a soul of fire!

"Peace to my child! and may his ardent soul "Submissive bend to Reason's just controul!"

The Mother answered; "ruled by her 'twill bless;
"Is she contemn'd, it errs from mere excess.
"No lot humanity is doom'd to share
"But has its portion of appropriate care.
"To teach the young idea how to shoot,
"Where no idea ever yet took root,

"Is no delightful task - but trifles these,
"Which only can fastidious weakness teaze.

૮ What, if our toil no mental structure raise,
"For some to criticise, and others praise;

C

"What though we vainly soothe, and vainly chide,

"While inborn dulness can all arts deride;

"We know if in that mean, contemned thing, "One seed of piety shall live and spring,

"That holy plant shall blossom with the just, "When poets and their monuments are dust."

"But with that cultured mind, those gifted powers,

Why to the pen not consecrate the hours?

"Thus shall those powers Eternal Truths adorn,

"The pearl nor lost, nor trampled on with scorn."

"Grant I were skill'd the list'ning world to teach, "To meet its eye were still beyond my reach. "A woman writes to and desires

"The Man to purchase what the Muse inspires.

"Six lingering weeks in feverish hope are past; "A seventh arrives

and now the die is cast.

"He much admires the work, but grieves to say

""Tis not adapted to the present day;

"Is always pain'd unwelcome truths to tell,

"But cannot purchase what will never sell.

"Now think you see me with my infant group, "In Christian love to pitied weakness stoop; "My mind unagitated, patient, calm,

"Approving Heav'n its still unfailing balm. "I know that such as these my Saviour blest, "That such as these shall taste his Heav'nly rest; "That who shall lead them to the way divine "Shall, as the stars, with endless lustre shine. "Am I not happy? Would you bid me change "A path like this, in dubious scenes to range?"

Fred'ric her hand with eager fondness prest, Arthur acknowledg'd that her choice was best.

CANTO III.

SIR Herbert gone where wealth avails no more, To Arthur left his still-increasing store.

Ah! then in vain, through long succeeding years, The Mother's watchful love, and tender fears, Would bid her Arthur's closing heart beware Av'rice' cold torpor, Luxury's idle glare.

"O think," she cried, "the mighty treasure lent, "And you an almoner whom Heav'n hath sent!" Advice to censure is too near allied;

He read, and threw the tedious scroll aside.

His answers now from time to time decrease,

Till, short and colder grown, at length they wholly cease.

Yet there were times when Conscience would unclose

Her sleepy eye, from long-indulg'd repose,

She loudest speaks where surest to be heard;
Torments her friends on ev'ry slight occasion,
But from sworn foes admits of much evasion
Conscience, I say, would hint a Mother's fate,
Her tender love, her much-enduring state;
Confess the produce of a month, a week,
Riches her years of toil would vainly seek.
"Yes, I will go," said Arthur; and the thought

For one whole hour a buoyant pleasure brought.

My aid shall bid her from her state emerge,

"The gift be more or less, as circumstances urge."

That humble home, from whence his hand may raise

Its kind possessor, author of his days,
He will again behold; his happy eyes
Be witness of her joy, her glad surprize:
And, as his hand his heart responsive beat,
He mus'd aloud, "Benevolence is sweet."