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 poor,
He grieved unseen; and spoke of love no more-
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 dropp'd 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 gray 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,
And humbly hearkens to some fresh commands;
He moves to speak, she interrupts him-" Stay,"
Her air expresses-" Hark! to what I say:"
paces off, poor Rupert on a seat
Has taken refuge from the noonday heat,
His eyes on her intent, as if to find

Ten

What were the movements of that subtle mind: How still! how earnest is he!-it appears

His thoughts are wandering through his earlier years;

Through years of fruitless labour, to the day When all his earthly prospects died away: "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
The pensive Rupert at an humble door :
Some thoughts of pity raised by his distress,
Some feeling touch of ancient tenderness;
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 rapt in silence could she pass, afraid
Each eye should see her, and each heart up
braid;

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.

TALE V.

THE PATRON.

It were all one,

That I should love a bright peculiar star,
And think to wed it; she is so much above me:
In her bright radiance and collateral heat
Must I be comforted, not in her sphere.

All's Well that Ends Well, acti. sc. 1.
Poor wretches, that depend

On greatness' favours, dream as I have done,—
Wake and find nothing.

Cymbeline, act v. sc. 4.

And since

Th' affliction of my mind amends, with which I fear a madness held me.

Tempest, act v.

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 perused:
With the like fancy he could make his knight
Slay half a host and put the rest to flight;
With the like knowledge, he could make him 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 ap-

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;
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;
Nor 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;
Where each indulgence was foreweigh'd with

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 e'en 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

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 e'en beauty pays
To wake our passions, or provoke our praise;
There all the eye beholds will give delight,
Where every sense is flatter'd 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,

duce;

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 insnare, and flatters thee to wound.
Why has she said that in the lowest state
The noble mind ensures a noble fate?
And why thy daring mind to glory call?
That thou mayst dare and suffer, soar and fall.
Beauties are tyrants, and if they can reign,
They have no feeling for their subject's pain;
Their victim's anguish gives their charms
plause,

ap

And their chief glory is the wo 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 pre

tence,

I think, to wit, but hast thou sterling sense?

"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;
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 mayst 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 whim,
Who fear'd not God should be afraid of him;
But grant they fear'd him, was it further said,
That he reform'd the hearts he made afraid?
Did Chartres mend? Ward, Waters, and a score
Of flagrant felons, with his floggings sore?
Was Cibber silenced? No; with vigour bless'd,
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.

64

Strive not too much for favour; seem at ease,
And rather pleased thyself, than bent to please:
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 carly 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

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,
They blaze abroad with inconsiderate pride;
While yet but mere probationers for fame,
They seize the honour they should then disclaim:
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;

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;
Therefore it is, this patient, watchful kind
With gentle friction stir the drowsy mind:
Fix'd on their end, with caution they proceed,
And sometimes give, and sometimes take the lead
Will now a hint convey, and then retire,
And let the spark awake the lingering fire;
Or seek new joys and livelier pleasures bring,
To give the jaded sense a quickening spring.

"These arts, indeed, my son must not pursue;
Nor must he quarrel with the tribe that do:
It is not safe another's crimes to know,
Nor is it wise our proper worth to show:-

True, and preserve it ready to come forth:

If question'd, fairly answer-and that done,
Shrink back, be silent, and thy father's son;
For they who doubt thy talents scorn thy boast,
But they who grant them will dislike thee most:
Observe the prudent; they in silence sit,
Display no learning, and affect no wit;
They hazard nothing, nothing they assume,
But know the useful art of acting dumb.
Yet to their eyes each varying look appears,
And every word finds entrance at their ears.
Thou art religion's advocate-take heed,
Hurt not the cause, thy pleasure 'tis to plead ;
With wine before thee, and with wits beside,
Do not in strength of reasoning powers confide;
What seems to thee convincing, certain, plain,
They will deny, and dare thee to maintain;
And thus will triumph o'er thy eager youth,
While thou wilt grieve for so disgracing truth.
"With pain I've seen, these wrangling wits
among,

Faith's weak defenders, passionate and young; Weak thou art not, yet not enough on guard, Where wit and humour keep their watch and ward:

Men gay and noisy will o'erwhelm thy sense, Then loudly laugh at Truth's and thy expense; While the kind ladies will do all they can

To check their mirth, and cry, The good young

man!

"Prudence, my boy, forbids thee to commend The cause or party of thy noble friend; What are his praises worth, who must be known To take a patron's maxims for his own? When ladies sing, or in thy presence play, Do not, dear John, in rapture melt away; "Tis not thy part, there will be listeners round, To cry divine! and doat upon the sound; Remember too, that though the poor have ears, They take not in the music of the spheres; They must not feel the warble and the thrill, Or be dissolved in ecstasy at will; Besides, 'tis freedom in a youth like thee To drop his awe, and deal in ecstasy!

"In silent ease, at least in silence dine, Nor one opinion start of food or wine:

Let others frown and envy; she the while
(Insidious syren !) will demurely smile;
And for her gentle purpose, every day
Inquire thy wants, and meet thee in thy way;
She has her blandishments, and though so weak,
Her person pleases, and her actions speak:
At first her folly may her aim defeat ;
But kindness shown at length will kindness meet :
Have some offended? them will she disdain,
And, for thy sake, contempt and pity feign;
She hates the vulgar, she admires to look
On woods and groves, and dotes upon a book;
Let her once see thee on her features dwell,
And hear one sigh, then liberty farewell.

"But, John, remember we cannot maintain A poor, proud girl, extravagant and vain. "Doubt much of friendship: shouldst thou find a friend

Pleased to advise thee, anxious to commend ;
Should he the praises he has heard report,
And confidence (in thee confiding) court;
Much of neglectful patrons should he say,
And then exclaim-How long must merit stay!'
Then show how high thy modest hopes may
stretch,

And point to stations far beyond thy reach;
Let such designer, by thy conduct, see

| (Civil and cool) he makes no dupe of thee;
And he will quit thee, as a man too wise
For him to ruin first, and then despise.

Such are thy dangers ;—yet if thou canst steer Past all the perils, all the quicksands clear, Then may'st thou profit; but if storms prevail, If foes beset thee, if thy spirits fail,No more of winds or waters be the sport, But in thy father's mansion find a port." Our poet read."It is in truth," said he, "Correct in part, but what is this to me? I love a foolish Abigail! in base And sordid office! fear not such disgrace: Am I so blind?" "Or thou wouldst surely see That lady's fall, if she should stoop to thee!"

Is of thy father's simple boil'd and roast;
Nor always these; he sometimes saved his cash,
By interlinear days of frugal hash:

Wine hadst thou seldom; wilt thou be so vain
As to decide on claret or champagne ?
Dost thou from me derive this taste sublime,
Who order port the dozen at a time?
When (every glass held precious in our eyes)
We judged the value by the bottle's size:
Then never merit for thy praise assume,
Its worth well knows each servant in the room.
"Hard, boy, thy task to steer thy way among
That servile, supple, shrewd, insidious throng;
Who look upon thee as of doubtful race,
An interloper, one who wants a place :
Freedom with these let thy free soul condemn,
Nor with thy heart's concerns associate them.
"Of all be cautious-but be most afraid
Of the pale charms that grace my lady's maid;
Of those sweet dimples, of that fraudful eye,
The frequent glance design'd for thee to spy;

John saw not this; and many a week had pass'd, While the vain beauty held her victim fast; The noble friend still condescension show'd, And, as before, with praises overflow'd; But his grave lady took a silent view Of all that pass'd, and smiling, pitied too.

Cold grew the foggy morn, the day was brief,
Loose on the cherry hung the crimson leaf;
The dew dwelt ever on the herb; the woods
Roar'd with strong blasts, with mighty showers the
floods:

All green was vanish'd, save of pine and yew,
That still display'd their melancholy hue,
Save the green holly with its berries red,
And the green moss that o'er the gravel spread.

To public views my lord must soon attend;
And soon the ladies-would they leave their friend?
The time was fix'd-approach'd-was near-was

come:

The trying time that fill'd his soul with gloom. Thoughtful our poet in the morning rose,