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Her mother loved, but was not used to grant Her sister, reasoning, proved the promise made,
Lucy appealing to a parent pray'd ;
And all in vain ; she never changed her mind,
With peevish fear, she saw her health decline,
And cried, “O! monstrous, for a man to pine;
Whate'er he wrote, he saw unread return'd,
And sacrificed his passion to his pride.
To bend to falsehood one determined heart;
Assail'd, in patience it received the shock, When reason sanctions all that love can dream? Soft as the wave, unshaken as the rock:
Yes! reason sanctions what stern fate denies : But while th' unconquer'd soul endures the storm The early prospect in the glory dies,
Of angry fate, it preys upon the form ;
With conscious virtue she resisted still,
The beauty died, ere she could yield her hand But Lucy's trial was at hand; with joy
See with what pomp of coaches, in what crowd
The creature married-of his falsehood proud!
False, did I say ?—at least no whining fool;
Some spirit Lney gain'd; a steady soul,
Defying all persuasion, all control : Yet as an heiress, she must shun disgrace,
In vain reproach, derision, threats were tried; Although no heiress to her mother's face :
The consiant mind all outward force defied,
By vengeance vainiy urged, in vain assail'd by
She felt the courage of a wounded heart;
The world receded from her rising view, Nor can you offer a reluctant hand ;
When Heaven approach'd as earthly things withHis birth is noble, and his seat is grand."
Pious when most of worldly prospecis fond,
The rector doubled, for he came to mourn Had the young priesť a faithful lover died A sister dead, and with a wife return :
Something had been her bosom to divide ;
She saw the matron whom she feard to lose ;
Surprised, the mother saw the languid frame,
But as her anger met with no reply,
The mother lives, and has enough to buy She let the gentle girl in quiet die ;
Th' attentive ear and the submissive eye And to her sister wrote impellid by pain,
Of abject natures—these are daily told, " Come quickly, Martha, or you come in vain." How triumph'd beauty in the days of old; Lucy meantime profess'd, with joy sincere, How, by her window seated, crowds have cast That nothing held, employ'd, engaged her here. Admiring glances, wondering as they pass'd ; “I am an humble actor, doom'd to play
How from her carriage as she stepp'd to pray, A part obscure, and then to glide away ;
Divided ranks would humbly make her way; Incurious how the great or happy shine,
And how each voice in the astonish'd throng Or who have parts obscure and sad as mine ; Pronounced her peerless as she moved along. In its best prospect I but wish'd, for life,
Her picture then the greedy dame displays, To be th' assiduous, gentle, useful wife ;
Touch'd by no shame, she now demands its praise ; That lost, with wearied mind, and spirit poor, In her tall mirror then she shows a face, I drop my efforts, and can act no more ;
Still coldly fair with unaffecting grace; With growing joy I feel my spirits tend
These she compares, “ It has the form,” she cries, To thai lasi scene where all my duties end." But wants the air, the spirit, and the eyes ; Hope, ease, delight, the thoughts of dying This, as a likeness, is correct and true, gave,
But there alone the living grace we view." Till Lucy spoke with fondness of the grave; This said, th' applauding voice the dame required, She smiled with wasted form, but spirit firm, And, gazing, slowly from the glass relired. And said, " She left but little for the worm." As tolld the bell, “ There's one," she said, “ hath
press'd A while before me to the bed of rest;" And she beside her with attention spread
While quickly thus the mortal part declined,
Thrice blessed they that master so their blood-
But earthly happier is the rose distillid,
Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn On holy writ her mind reposing dwelt,
Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. She saw the wonders, she the mercies felt;
Midsummer Night's Dream, act i. sc. 1. Till in a bless'd and glorious revery,
I sometimes do excuse the thing I hate, She seem'd the Saviour as on earth to see,
For his advantage whom I dearly love. And, fi!ld with love divine, th' attending friend
Measure for Measure, act ii. sc 4. to be ;
Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu! Or she who trembling, yet confiding, stole
Ibid Near to the garment, touch'd it, and was whole; When, such th' intenseness of the working thought, Of a fair town where Doctor Rack was guide, On her it seem'd the very deed was wrought; Ilis only daughter was the boast and pride ; She the glad patient's fear and rapture found, Wise Arabella, yet not wise alone, The holy transport, and the healing wound; She like a bright and polish'd brilliant shone ; This was so fix'd, so grafted in the heart,
Her father ound her for his prop and stay, That she adopted. nay became the part :
Able to guide, yet willing to obey ; But one chiei scene was present to her sight, Pleased with her learning while discourse could Her Saviour resting in the tomb by night;
please, Her fever rose, and still her wedded mind
And with her love in languor and disease. Was to that scene, that hallow'd cave, confined ; To every mother were her virtues known, Where in the shade of death the body laid, And to their daughters as a pattern shownı ; There watched the spirit of the wandering Who in her youth had all that age requires, maid ;
And with her prudence, all that youth admires.
Not to obiain such merits, but deny ;
From such applause disdain and anger rise,
And envy lives where emulation dies. T, this idea all her soul she gave,
In all his strength contends the noble horse, Her mind reposing by the sacred grave;
With one who just precedes him on the course ; Then sleep would seal the eye, ihe vision close, But when the rival flies too far before, And steep the solemn thoughts in brief repose. His spirit fails, and he attempts no more.
Then grew the soul serene, and all its powers This reasoning maid, above her sex's dread! Again restored illumed the dying hours ;
Had dared to read, and dared to say she read; But reason dwelt where fancy stray'd before, Not the last novel, not the new-born play; And the mind wander'd from its views no more; Not the mere trash and scandal of the day ; Till death approach'd, when every look express'd But, (though her young companions felt the shock,) A sense of bliss, till every sense had rest.
She studied Berkeley, Bacon, Hobbes, and Locke :
Her mind within the maze of history dwelt, A man may smile, but still he should attend
His hour at church, and be the church's friend, The merits of the Roman page she knew, What there he thinks conceal, and what he hears And could converse with Moore and Montagu :
commend." Thus she became the wonder of the town,
Frank was the speech, but heard with high From that she reap'd, to that she gave renown,
disdain, And strangers coming, all were taught t' admire Nor had the doctor leave to speak again; The learned lady, and the lofty spire.
A man who own'd, nay, gloried in deceit, Thus fame in public fix'd the maid, where all " He might despise her, but he should not cheat." Might throw their darts, and see the idol fall ; Then Vicar Holmes appear'd; he heard it said, A hundred arrows came with vengeance keen, That ancient men best pleased the prudent maid; From tongues envenom’d, and from arms unseen; And true it was her ancient friends she loved, A thousand eyes were fix'd upon the place, Servants when old she favour'd and approved ; That, if she fell, she might not fly disgrace: Age in her pious parents she revered, But malice vainly throws the poison'd dart, And neighbours were by length of days endear'd; Unless our frailty shows the peccant part ;
But, if her husband too must ancient be, And Arabella still preserved her name
The good old vicar found it was not he. Untouch'd, and shone with undisputed fame; On Captain Bligh her mind in balance hungHer very notice some respect would cause, Though valiant, modest; and reserved, though And her esteem was honour and applause.
young ; Men she avoided ; not in childish fear,
Against these merits must defects be selAs if she thought some savage foe was near ; Though poor, imprudent; and though proud, in Not as a prude, who hides that man should seek, debt. Or who by silence hints that they should speak ; In vain the captain close attention paid ; But with discretion all the sex she view'd, She found him wanting, whom she fairly weigh'd Ere yet engaged, pursuing, or pursued ;
Then came a youth, and all their friends agreed, Ere love had made her 10 his vices blind
That Edward Huntly was the man indeed; Or hid the favourite's failings from her mind. Respecisul duty he had paid a while,
Thus was the picture of the man portray'd, Then ask'd her hand, and had a gracious smile: By merit destined for so rare a maid :
A lover now declared, he led the fair
Then whisper'd softly, “ Will you name the day?'
"O! be not weak," the prudent maid replied : His honour spotless, and his bosom pure ;'
But by some trial your affection proveShe no allowance made for sex or times,
Respect and not impatience argues love : Of lax opinion-crimes were ever crimes ; And love no more is by impatience known, No wretch forsaken must his frailty curse, Than ocean's depth is hy its tempests shown: No spurious offspring drain his private purse : He whom a weak and fond impatience sways, He at all times his passions must command, But for himself with all his fervour prays, And yet possess, or be refused her hand.
And not the maid he wooes, but his own will All this without reserve the maiden told,
Young Edward grieved, but let not grief be
A while he waited, and then cried, “ Behold! On every cause, and in a pleasant way;
The year advancing, be no longer cold !" Not all his trust was in a pliant tongue,
For she had promised—“ Let the flowers appear, His form was good, and ruddy he, and young : And I will pass with thee the smiling year." But though the doctor was a man of parts, Then pressing grew the youth; the more he He read not deeply male or female hearts ;
press’d, But judged that all whom he esteem'd as wise, The less inclined the maid to his request : Must think alike, though some assumed disguise ; “ Let June arrive.”-Alas! when April came, That every reasoning Brahmin, Christian, Jew, It brought a stranger, and the stranger, shame ; Of all religions took their liberal view;
Nor could the lover from his house persuade And of her own, no doubt, this learned maid A stubborn lass whom he had mournful made : Denied the substance, and the forms obey'd ; Angry and weak, by thoughtless vengeance moved And thus persuaded, he his thoughts express'd She told her story to the fair beloved, Of her opinions, and his own profess'd
In strongest words th' unwelcome truth was shown "All states demand this aid, the vulgar need To blight his prospects, careless of her own. Their priests and prayers, their sermons and their Our heroine grieved, but had too firm a heart creed;
For him to soften, when she swore to part ; And those of stronger minds should never speak In vain his seeming penitence and prayer, (In his opinion) what might hurt the weak : His vows, his tears ; she left him in despair :
His mother fondly laid her grief aside,
As young Zelinda, in her quaker dress, And to the reason of the nymph applied
Disdain'd each varying fashion's vile excess ; "It well becomes thee, lady, to appear,
And now her friends on old Zelinda gaze,
Pleased in rich silks and orient gems to blaze:
As that good maiden in her zeal profess'd ;
Or whether lovers falling from her train,
Who offer'd terms so fair, against his love
To strive was folly, so she never strove;
Not thus the maiden, for in blooming youth
First to admire, to praise her, and defend, And like its fruit the virgin, first austere,
We must be decent in our neighbours' sight:"
And in compassion took off week by week ;
She kindly meant to take off day by day.
For flying man and all his treacherous ways,
Why are these gentle maidens prone to make
Their sister doves the tempting world forsake ?
Is it pure joy to see a sister flown
And therefore paint their native woods and groves,
As scenes of dangerous joys and naughty loves ? Or had she also such a journey been?
Strong was the maiden's hope: her friend was
With power to prove it, then she must prevail ;
When alı inquiries had been duly made,
“Alas! my dear! not all our care and art Can tread the maze of man's deceitful heart :
THE LOVER'S JOURNEY.
The sun is in the heavens, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world, with me."
Is all too wanton. The maiden frown'd, and then conceived that
King John, act iii. sc. 3. wives
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, Could walk as well, and lead as holy lives
Are of imagination all compact. As angry prudes who scorn'd the marriage-chain,
Midsummer Night's Dream. Or luckless maids who sought it still in vain." 0! how the spring of love resembleth The friend was vex'd ; she paused, at length she
Th' uncertain glory of an April day, cried,
Which now shows all her beauty to the sun, " Know your own danger, then your lot decide ;
And by-and-by a cloud bears all away.
And happily I have arrived at last That traitor, Beswell, while he seeks your hand,
Unto the wished haven of my bliss. Has, I affirm, a wanton at command ;
Taming of the Shrew, act v. sc. 1. A slave, a creature from a foreign place, The nurse and mother of a spurious race;
It is the soul that sees; the outward eyes
Again they sicken, and on every view
Here ceased th' informer; Arabella's look Or, if absorb’d by their peculiar cares,
Our feelings still upon our views attend,
And their own natures to the objects lend ; * I wish to know no more : Sorrow and joy are in their influence sure, I question not your motive, zeal, or love,
Long as the passion reigns th' effects endure ; But must decline such dubious points to prove: But love in minds his various changes makes, All is not true, I judge, for who can guess And clothes each object with the change he takes; Those deeds of darkness men with care suppress? His light and shade on every view he throws, He brought a slave, perhaps, to England's coast, And on each object, what he feels, bestows. And made her free ; it is our country's boast! Fair was the morning, and the month was June And she perchance too grateful-good and ill When rose a lover ; love awakens soon; Were sown at first, and grow together, still ; Brief his repose, yet much he dreamt the while The colour'd infants on the village green, Of that day's meeting, and his Laura's smile ; What are they more than we have often seen? Fancy and love that name assign'd to her, Children half-clothed who round their village stray, Call’d Susan in the parish register ; In sun or rain, now starved, now beaten, they And he no more was John ; his Laura gave Will the dark colour of their fate betray: The name Orlando to her faithful slave. Let us in Christian love for all account,
Bright shone the glory of the rising day, And then behold to what such tales amount." When the fond traveller took his favourite way ;
His heart is evil," said th' impatient friend He mounted gayly, felt his bosom light, “My duty bids me try that heart to mend," And all he saw was pleasing in his sight. Replied the virgin :.“ we may be too nice,
“ Ye hours of expectation, quickly fly, And lose a soul in our contempt of vice ;
And bring on hours of blest reality ;
Hear her sweet voice, and press her yielded hand." And what for virtue can I better do
First o'er a barren heath beside the coast Than to reclaim him, if the charge be true ?” Orlando rode, and joy began to boast.
She spoke, nor more her holy work delay'd ; " This neat low gorge,” said he, “with golden 'Twas time to lend an erring mortal aid :
bloom, “ The noblest way,” she judged, " a soul to win, Delights each sense, is beauty, is perfume ; Was with an act of kindness to begin,
And this gay ling, with all its purple flowers, To make the sinner sure, and then t'attack the sin." A man at leisure might admire for hours ;
This green-fringed cup-moss has a scarlet tip, As the author's purpose in this tale may be mistaken, That yields to nothing but my Laura's lip; he wishes to observe, that conduct like that of the lady's And then how fine this herbage! men may say here described, must be meritorious or censurable, just A heath is barren ; nothing is so gay: as the motives to it are pure or selfish; that these mo. Barren or bare to call such charming scene tives may in a great measure be concealed from the mind of the agent ; and that we often take credit to our virtue for Argues a mind possess'd by care and spleen.” actions which spring originally from our tempers, incli
Onward he went, and fiercer grew the heat, nations, or our indifference. It cannot therefore be im. Dust rose in clouds before the horse's feot ; proper, much less immoral, to give an instance of such For now he pass'd through lanes of burning sand self-deception.
Bounds to thin crops, or yet uncultured land ;