Jonas had sisters, and of these was one
Who lost a husband and an only son; Twelve months her sables she in sorrow wore, And mourn'd so long, that she could mourn no
Distant from Jonas, and from all her race.
She now resided in a lively place; There, by the sect unseen, at whist she play'd, Nor was of churchmen or their church afraid : If much of this the graver brother heard, He something censured, but he little fear'd; He knew her rich and frugal; for the rest He felt no care, or, if he felt, suppress'd; Nor for companion when she ask'd her niece, Had he suspicions tha. disturb'd his peace; Frugal and rich, these virtues as a charm Preserved the thoughtful man from all alarm; An infant yet, she soon would home return, Nor stay the manners of the world to learn ; Meantime his boys would all his care engross, And be his comforts if he felt the loss.
The sprightly Sybil, pleased and unconfined, Felt the pure pleasure of the opening mind- All here was gay and cheerful; all at home Unvaried quiet, and unruffled gloom : There were no changes, and amusements f Here all was varied, wonderful, and new There were plain meals, plain dresses, looks;
Here, gay companions and amusing bo And the young beauty soon began to The light vocations of the scene sho
A man of business feels it as a cr On calls domestic to consume his t Yet this grave man had not so col But with his daughter he was gr And he demanded that in every The aunt and niece should at h "Yes! we must go, my ci A grave conformity of minge Must sing at meeting, and The more t' enjoy when w
Thus spake the aunt. Was pleased to learn lo Her artful part the yo And from the matron When thrice the fri For more delay, an Till a tall maiden In all the bloom He gazed admir," Glanced an arch. For she was gav And stood a ve Pure, pensive. When Jonas | For Sybil, Jon Had still a se Vain as she Her simul
Again 11 Found the The au But st Letter
And y
The aunt and niece And quiet days had
Near him a wid Like his her ma: The wealth her
For one tall yo His love resu Her wishes Sober he Mindful of In a lig
and alone! ver to cam 'tarm: C of sin.
from the patient learn ecure is thy concern." "Then know, 'tis thy
'rt too much a saint; A of the sedate and pure, art formal and demure : insocial, unpolite;
g, and insolent if right.
d, but why should goodness be
such formality?
might please a damsel's eye, with a scarlet dye;
what virtue canst thou trace
orm that hides thy sober face? g-skirted drab, that over-nice Hothing, prove a scorn of vice? ane accent-what in sound can be grace as dull monotony?
a thousand varied notes to move heart-thou mayst not speak of love ast cast thy formal ways aside, se becoming youth and nature tried : terior freedom, spirit, ease,
study and delight to please;
I bese follies meet thy just disdain, est the virtues and thy worth remain." Is severe-O! maiden, wilt not thou ng for habits, manners, modes, allow ?”— at allowing much, I much require,
a besif, for manners, modes, attire!" as lovely Sybil; and, this point agreed, ze those of greater weight proceed: aber"-"Nay," she quickly interposed, Sactor, here our conference is closed!" There the youth, who, lost in his retreat, - the good matron on her garden-seat; were troubled, and his air, once mild
burried My audacious child!” the dame. "I read what she has done caieasure-Ah! the thoughtless one! Jest, to my stern good man
the maid as mildly as you can: evo, not seem to woo a little while daughter's will, the father to beguile! ma has wrath in time may wear away; vok, preserve our peace, Josiah? say." Y my good neighbour," said the gentle
he loves, 'tis | But when the men beside their station took,
The maidens with them, and with these the cook; When one huge wooden bowl before them stood, I'd with huge balls, of farinaceous food;
acon, mass saline, where never lean
eath the brown and bristly rind was seen; When from a single horn the party drew 'Their copious draughts of heavy ale and new; When the course cloth she saw, with many a stain, Soil'd by rude hinds who cut and came again, She could not breathe; but, with a heavy sigh, Rein'd the fair neck, and shut th' offended eye; She minced the sanguine flesh in frustums fine, confess." And wonder'd much to see the creatures dine : When she resolved her father's heart to move, him lost."-If hearts of farmers were alive to love. She now entreated by herself to sit In the small parlour, if papa thought fit, And there to dine, to read, to work alone. "No!" said the farmer, in an angry tone; These are your school-taught airs; your mother's pride
disdain ?"
* me to refrain."
Josiah leave
I father's child would
Fight from grief refrain.”— daughter, our design embrace?"it it be of grace?"
Would send you there; but I am now your guide.. Arise betimes, our early meal prepare, And this despatch'd, let business be your care; three plain words thy mind ex-Look to the lasses, let there not be one
Who lacks attention, till her tasks be done;
ave this good youth?"-" Dear father! In every household work your portion take,
THE WIDOW'S TALE.
Ah me! for aught that I could ever read, Or ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth: But either it was different in blood, Or else misgrafted in respect of years, Or else it stood upon the choice of friends; Or if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.
And what you make not, see that others make: At leisure times attend the wheel, and see The whitening web he sprinkled on the Lea; When thus employ'd, should our young neighbour view
A useful lass, you may have more to do."
Dreadful were these commands; but worse than
The parting hint, a farmer could not please : "Tis true she had without abhorrence seen Young Harry Carr, when he was smart and clean; But to be married, be a farmer's wife,
A slave! a drudge! she could not, for her life. With swimming eyes the fretful nymph with- drew,
Midsummer Night's Dream, act i. sc. 1. And, deeply sighing, to her chamber flew ;
O! thou didst then ne'er love so heartily, If thou rememberest not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into.
As You Like It, act ii. sc. 4. Cry the man mercy; love him, take his offer. Ibid. act iii. sc. 5.
To farmer Moss, in Langar Vale, came down His only daughter, from her school in town; A tender, timid maid! who knew not how To pass a pig-sty, or to face a cow: Smiling she came, with petty talents graced, A fair complexion, and a slender waist.
Used to spare meals, disposed in manner pure, Her father's kitchen she could ill endure; Where by the steaming beef he hungry sat, And laid at once a pound upon his plate: Hot from the field, her eager brother seized An equal part, and hunger's rage appeased; The air, surcharged with moisture, flagg'd around, And the offended damsel sigh'd and frown'd; The swelling fat in lumps conglomerate laid, And fancy's sickness seized the loathing maid :
There on her knees, to Heaven she grieving pray'd For change of prospect to a tortured maid
Harry, a youth whose late departed sire Saw the pale beauty; and her shape and air Had left him all industrious men require, Engaged him much, and yet he must forbear: For my small farm what can the damsel do?" He said; then stopp'd to take another view: "Pity so sweet a lass will nothing learn Of household cares; for what can beauty earn By those small arts which they at school attain, That keep them useless, and yet make them vain?' This luckless damsel look'd the village round, To find a friend, and one was quickly found; A pensive widow, whose mild air and dress Pleased the sad nymph, who wish'd her soul's dis-
To one so seeming kind, confiding, to confess.
"What lady that?" the anxious lass inquired, Who then beheld the one she most admired:
"Here," said the brother," are no ladies seen- That is a widow dwelling on the green; A dainty dame, who can but barely live On her poor pittance, yet contrives to give;
The glow that temperance o'er the cheek had spread, | Could it for errors, follies, sins atone, Where the soft down half veil'd the purest red; And the serene deportment that proclaim'd A heart unspotted, and a life unblamed:
But then with these she saw attire too plain,
Or give thee comfort, thoughtful and alone? It has, believe me, maid, no power to charm Thy soul from sorrow, or thy flesh from harm: Turn then, fair creature, from a world of sin,
The pale brown coat, though worn without a And seek the jewel happiness within."
The formal air, and something of the pride That indicates the wealth it seems to hide ; And looks that were not, she conceived, exempt From a proud pity, or a sly contempt.
Josiah's eyes had their employment too, Engaged and soften'd by so bright a view; A fair and meaning face, an eye of fire, That check'd the bold, and made the free retire: But then with these he mark'd the studied dress And lofty air, that scorn or pride express; With that insidious look, that seem'd to hide In an affected smile the scorn and pride; And if his mind the virgin's meaning caught, He saw a foe with treacherous purpose fraught- Captive the heart to take, and to reject it caught. Silent they sat:-thought Sybil, that he seeks Something, no doubt; I wonder if he speaks: Scarcely she wonder'd, when these accents fell Slow in her ear-" Fair maiden, art thou well?" "Art thou physician?" she replied; “my hand, My pulse, at least, shall be at thy command."
She said-and saw, surprised, Josiah kneel, And gave his lips the offer'd pulse to feel; The rosy colour rising in her cheek, Seem'd that surprise unmix'd with wrath to speak; Then sternness she assumed, and-" Doctor, tell, Thy words cannot alarm me-am I well?"
Proceed, good doctor; if so great my need, What is thy fee? Good doctor! pray proceed." "Large is my fee, fair lady, but I take None till some progress in my cure I make : Thou hast disease, fair maiden; thou art vain; Within that face sit insult and disdain ; Thou art enamour'd of thyself; my art Can see the naughty malice of thy heart: With a strong pleasure would thy bosom move, Were I to own thy power, and ask thy love; And such thy beauty, damsel, that I might, But for thy pride, feel danger in thy sight, And lose my present peace in dreams of vain delight."
"And can thy patients," said the nymph," endure Physic like this? and will it work a cure?"
Such is my hope, fair damsel; thou, I find, Hast the true tokens of a noble mind; But the world wins thee, Sybil, and thy joys Are placed in trifles, fashions, follies, toys; Thou hast sought pleasure in the world around, That in thine own pure bosom should be found: Did all that world admire thee, praise, and love, Could it the least of nature's pains remove?
"Speak'st thou at meeting?" said the nymph "thy speech
Is that of mortal very prone to teach; But wouldst thou, doctor, from the patient learn Thine own disease?-The cure is thy concern." "Yea, with good will."-" Then know, 'tis thy
That, for a sinner, thou'rt too much a saint; Hast too much show of the sedate and pure, And without cause art formal and demure : This makes a man unsocial, unpolite; Odious when wrong, and insolent if right. Thou mayst be good, but why should goodness be Wrapt in a garb of such formality?
Thy person well might please a damsel's eye, In decent habit with a scarlet dye;
But, jest apart-what virtue canst thou trace In that broad brim that hides thy sober face? Does that long-skirted drab, that over-nice And formal clothing, prove a scorn of vice? Then for thine accent-what in sound can be So void of grace as dull monotony? Love has a thousand varied notes to move The human heart;-thou mayst not speak of love Till thou hast cast thy formal ways aside, And those becoming youth and nature tried : Not till exterior freedom, spirit, ease, Prove it thy study and delight to please; Not till these follies meet thy just disdain, While yet thy virtues and thy worth remain."
"This is severe !-O! maiden, wilt not thou Something for habits, manners, modes, allow ?"— "Yes! but allowing much, I much require, In my behalf, for manners, modes, attire!"
Good doctor, here our conference is closed!" Then left the youth, who, lost in his retreat, Pass'd the good matron on her garden-seat; His looks were troubled, and his air, once mild And calm, was hurried :-" "My audacious child!" Exclaim'd the dame, "I read what she has done In thy displeasure-Ah! the thoughtless one! But yet, Josiah, to my stern good man Speak of the maid as mildly as you can: Can you not seem to woo a little while The daughter's will, the father to beguile! So that his wrath in time may wear away; Will you preserve our peace, Josiah? say."
'He loves," the man exclaim'd, "he loves, 'tis | But when the men beside their station took, plain,
The thoughtless girl, and shall he love in vain? She may be stubborn, but she shall be tried, Born as she is of wilfulness and pride."
With anger fraught, but willing to persuade, The wrathful father met the smiling maid: "Sybil," said he, "I long, and yet I dread To know thy conduct; hath Josiah fled? And, grieved and fretted by thy scornful air, For his lost peace betaken him to prayer? Couldst thou his pure and modest mind distress, By vile remarks upon his speech, address, Attire, and voice ?"-" All this I must confess."— "Unhappy child! what labour will it cost To win him back !”—“ I do not think him lost." "Courts he then, trifler! insult and disdain ?”— "No: but from these he courts me to refrain." "Then hear me, Sybil; should Josiah leave Thy father's house ?"-" My father's child would grieve."
"That is of grace, and if he come again
To speak of love?"-"I might from grief refrain.""Then wilt thou, daughter, our design embrace?""Can I resist it, if it be of grace?"
The maidens with them, and with these the cook; When one huge wooden bowl before them stood, Fill'd with huge balls, of farinaceous food; With bacon, mass saline, where never lean Beneath the brown and bristly rind was seen; When from a single horn the party drew. Their copious draughts of heavy ale and new; When the course cloth she saw, with many a stain, Soil'd by rude hinds who cut and came again, She could not breathe; but, with a heavy sigh, Rein'd the fair neck, and shut th' offended eye; She minced the sanguine flesh in frustums fine, And wonder'd much to see the creatures dine: When she resolved her father's heart to move, If hearts of farmers were alive to love.
She now entreated by herself to sit In the small parlour, if papa thought fit, And there to dine, to read, to work alone. "No!" said the farmer, in an angry tone;
Who lacks attention, till her tasks be done;
"Dear child! in three plain words thy mind ex-Look to the lasses, let there not be one press; Wilt thou have this good youth ?"—" Dear father! In every household work your portion take, yes."
Ah me for aught that I could ever read, Or ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth: But either it was different in blood, Or else misgrafted in respect of years, Or else it stood upon the choice of friends; Or if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.
Midsummer Night's Dream, act i. sc. 1.
O! thou didst then ne'er love so heartily, If thou rememberest not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into.
As You Like It, act ii. sc. 4. Cry the man mercy; love him, take his offer. Ibid. act iii. sc. 5.
To farmer Moss, in Langar Vale, came down His only daughter, from her school in town; A tender, timid maid! who knew not how To pass a pig-sty, or to face a cow: Smiling she came, with petty talents graced, A fair complexion, and a slender waist.
Used to spare meals, disposed in manner pure, Her father's kitchen she could ill endure; Where by the steaming beef he hungry sat, And laid at once a pound upon his plate: Hot from the field, her eager brother seized An equal part, and hunger's rage appeased; The air, surcharged with moisture, flagg'd around, And the offended damsel sigh'd and frown'd; The swelling fat in lumps conglomerate laid, And fancy's sickness seized the loathing maid :
And what you make not, see that others make: At leisure times attend the wheel, and see The whitening web he sprinkled on the Lea; When thus employ'd, should our young neighbour
A useful lass, you may have more to do."
Dreadful were these commands; but worse than
The parting hint, a farmer could not please : "Tis true she had without abhorrence seen Young Harry Carr, when he was smart and clean; But to be married, be a farmer's wife,
A slave! a drudge! she could not, for her life. With swimming eyes the fretful nymph withdrew,
And, deeply sighing, to her chamber flew ; There on her knees, to Heaven she grieving pray'd For change of prospect to a tortured maid
Harry, a youth whose late departed sire Had left him all industrious men require, Saw the pale beauty; and her shape and air Engaged him much, and yet he must forbear:
She happier days has known, but seems at ease, And you may call her lady, if you please : But if you wish, good sister, to improve, You shall see twenty better worth your love." These Nancy met; but, spite of all they taught, This useless widow was the one she sought: The father growl'd; but said he knew no harm In such connexion that could give alarm: "And if we thwart the trifler in her course, "Tis odds against us she will take a worse."
And I confess, it shocks my pride to tell The secrets of the prison where I dwell; For that dear maiden would be shock'd to feel The secrets I should shudder to reveal; When told her friend was by a parent ask'd, Fed you the swine? Good heaven! how I am task’d! What! can you smile! Ah! smile not at the grief That woos your pity and demands relief."
"Trifles, my love; you take a false alarm; Think, I beseech you, better of the farm:
Then met the friends; the widow heard the sigh Duties in every state demand your care, That ask'd at once compassion and reply. "Would you, my child, converse with one so poor, Yours were the kindness-yonder is my door; And, save the time that we in public pray, From that poor cottage I but rarely stray." There went the nymph, and made her strong complaints,
Painting her wo as injured feeling paints.
"O, dearest friend! do think how one must feel, Shock'd all day long, and sicken'd every meal! Could you behold our kitchen, (and to you A scene so shocking must indeed be new,) A mind like yours, with true refinement graced, Would let no vulgar scenes pollute your taste; And yet, in truth, from such a polish'd mind All base ideas must resistance find, And sordid pictures from the fancy pass,
As the breath startles from the polish'd glass. Here you enjoy a sweet romantic scene, Without so pleasant, and within so clean; These twining jess'mines, what delicious gloom And soothing fragrance yield they to the room! What lovely garden! there you oft retire, And tales of wo and tenderness admire : In that neat case, your books, in order placed, Soothe the full soul, and charm the cultured taste; And thus, while all about you wears a charm, How must you scorn the farmer and the farm!" The widow smiled, and "Know you not," said she, How much these farmers scorn or pity me;
And light are those that will require it there: Fix on the youth a favouring eye, and these, To him pertaining, or as his, will please." "What words," the lass replied, "offend my ear! Try you my patience? Can you be sincere ? And am I told a willing hand to give To a rude farmer, and with rustic live? Far other fate was yours: some gentle youth Admired your beauty, and avow'd his truth; The power of love prevail'd, and freely both Gave the fond heart, and pledged the binding oath; And then the rival's plot, the parent's power, And jealous fears, drew on the happy hour: Ah! let not memory lose the blissful view, But fairly show what love has done for you."
"Agreed, my daughter, what my heart has known Of love's strange power shall be with frankness shown:
But let me warn you, that experience finds Few of the scenes that lively hope designs."
Mysterious all," said Nancy; "you, I know, Have suffer'd much; now deign the grief to show; I am your friend, and so prepare my heart In all your sorrows to receive a part."
The widow answer'd, "I had once, like you, Such thoughts of love; no dream is more untrue: You judge it fated and decreed to dwell
In youthful hearts, which nothing can expel, A passion doom'd to reign, and irresistible. The struggling mind, when once subdued, in vain Rejects the fury or defies the pain;
The strongest reason fails the flame t' allay, And resolution droops and faints away: Hence, when the destined lovers meet, they prove At once the force of this all-powerful love: Each from that period feels the mutual smart, Nor seeks to cure it heart is changed for heart; Nor is there peace till they delighted stand, And, at the altar, hand is joined to hand.
"Alas! my child, there are who, dreaming so, Waste their fresh youth, and waking feel the wo; There is no spirit sent the heart to move With such prevailing and alarming love; Passion to reason will submit; or why Should wealthy maids the poorest swains deny ? Or how could classes and degrees create The slightest bar to such resistless fate? Yet high and low, you see, forbear to mix; No beggars' eyes the heart of kings transfix; And who but amorous peers or nobles sigh When titled beauties pass triumphant by ? For reason wakes, proud wishes to reprove; You cannot hope, and therefore dare not love: All would be safe, did we at first inquire,
Does reason sanction what our hearts desire?" But quitting precept, let example show
What joys from love uncheck'd by prudence flow
« ForrigeFortsæt » |