Still cool, though grieved, thus prudence bade Superior natures with their puppets play,
"I cannot pardon, and I will not fight; Thou art too poor a culprit for the laws, And I too faulty to support my cause; All must be punish'd; I must sigh alone, At home thy victim for her guilt atone; And thou, unhappy! virtuous now no more, Must loss of fame, peace, purity deplore ; Sinners with praise will pierce thee to the heart, And saints, deriding, tell thee what thou art.
Such was his fall; and Edward, from that time, Felt in full force the censure and the crime; Despised, ashamed; his noble views before, And his proud thoughts, degraded him the more ; Should he repent-would that conceal his shame? Could peace be his? It perish'd with his fame : Himself he scorn'd, nor could his crime forgive; He fear'd to die, yet felt ashamed to live: Grieved, but not contrite, was his heart; oppress'd, Not broken; not converted, but distress'd; He wanted will to bend the stubborn knee, He wanted light the cause of ill to see, To learn how frail is man, how humble then should For faith he had not, or a faith too weak To gain the help that humbled sinners seek; Else had he pray'd-to an offended God His tears had flown a penitential flood; Though far astray, he would have heard the call Of mercy-Come! return, thou prodigal;" Then, though confused, distress'd, ashamed, afraid, Still had the trembling penitent obey'd ; Though faith have fainted, when assail'd by fear, Hope to the soul had whisper'd, "Persevere!" Till in his Father's house an humbled guest, He would have found forgiveness, comfort, rest. But all this joy was to our youth denied By his fierce passions and his daring pride, And shame and doubt impell'd him in a course, Once so abhorr'd, with unresisted force. Proud minds and guilty, whom their crimes oppress, Fly to new crimes for comfort and redress; So found our fallen youth a short relief In wine, the opiate guilt applies to grief,- From fleeting mirth that o'er the bottle lives, From the false joy its inspiration gives; And from associates pleased to find a friend, With powers to lead them, gladden, and defend, In all those scenes where transient ease is found, For minds whom sins oppress, and sorrows wound. Wine is like anger; for it makes us strong, Blind, and impatient, and it leads us wrong; The strength is quickly lost, we feel the error long : Thus led, thus strengthen'd in an evil cause, For folly pleading, sought the youth applause; Sad for a time, then eloquently wild, He gayly spoke as his companions smiled; Lightly he rose, and with his former grace Proposed some doubt, and argued on the case; Fate and foreknowledge were his favourite themes, How vain man's purpose, how absurd his schemes; "Whatever is, was ere our birth decreed; We think our actions from ourselves proceed, And idly we lament th' inevitable deed; It seems our own, but there's a power above Directs the motion, nay, that makes us move; Nor good nor evil can you beings name, Who are but rooks and castles in the game;
Till, bagg'd or buried, all are swept away."
Such were the notions of a mind to ill Now prone, but ardent and determined still. Of joy now eager, as before of fame, And screen'd by folly when assail'd by shame, Deeply he sank; obey'd each passion's call, And used his reason to defend them all.
Shall I proceed, and step by step relate The odious progress of a sinner's fate? No-let me rather hasten to the time (Sure to arrive) when misery waits on crime.
With virtue, prudence fled; what Shore possess Was sold, was spent, and he was now distress'd: And Want, unwelcome stranger, pale and wan, Met with her haggard looks the hurried man ; His pride felt keenly what he must expect From useless pity and from cold neglect.
Struck by new terrors, from his friends he fled, And wept his woes upon a restless bed; Retiring late, at early hour to rise, With shrunken features, and with bloodshot eyes: If sleep one moment closed the dismal view, Fancy her terrors built upon the true; And night and day had their alternate woes, That baffled pleasure, and that mock'd repose; Till to despair and anguish was consign'd The wreck and ruin of a noble mind.
Now seized for debt, and lodged within a jail, He tried his friendships, and he found them fail, Then fail'd his spirits, and his thoughts were all Fix'd on his sins, his sufferings, and his fall: His ruffled mind was pictured in his face, Once the fair seat of dignity and grace: Great was the danger of a man so prone To think of madness, and to think alone; Yet pride still lived, and struggled to sustain The drooping spirit and the roving brain; But this too fail'd a friend his freedom gave, And sent him help the threatening world to brave Gave solid counsel what to seek or flee, But still would stranger to his person be: In vain! the truth determined to explore, He traced the friend whom he had wrong'd before This was too much; both aided and advised By one who shunn'd him, pitied, and despised: He bore it not; 'twas a deciding stroke,
And on his reason like a torrent broke: In dreadful stillness he appear'd a while, With vacant horror and a ghastly smile; Then rose at once into the frantic rage, That force controll'd not, nor could love assuage. Friends now appear'd, but in the man was seei The angry maniac, with vindictive mien; Too late their pity gave to care and skill The hurried mind and ever-wandering will; Unnoticed pass'd all time, and not a ray Of reason broke on his benighted way; But now he spurn'd the straw in pure disdain, And now laugh'd loudly at the clinking chain.
Then as its wrath subsided, by degrees The mind sank slowly to infantine ease; To playful folly, and to causeless joy, Speech without aim, and without end, employ, He drew fantastic figures on the wall, And gave some wild relation of them all ; With brutal shape he join'd the human face And idiot smiles approved the motley race
stillness of the misty day. his freedom he attain'd-if free, eason, truth, and hope, can be ; Or wearied with the charge, or sure s wretch was now beyond a cure, wander where he pleased, and find ources for the eager mind; children of the place he meets, them he rambles through the streets; eed, his stronger arm he lends, mind to these approving friends. le maid, whom once the youth had
mild religious pity moved; chides his boyish flights, while he oment fix'd and pensive be; rembling speaks, his lively eyes looks, he listens to her sighs; her voice, th' harmonious sounds invade mind, and for a time persuade : sed infant, who has newly caught aternal glance a gleam of thought; nrapt, the half-known voice to hear, half-conscious, at the falling tear. om town, nor then unwatch'd, he goes, ood, as if to hide his woes; oon, he with impatience seeks
And his aunt's vices for her money's sake: By many a threatening hint she waked his fear, And he was pain'd to see a rival near; Yet all the taunts of her contemptuous pride He bore, nor found his grovelling spirit tried : Nay, when she wish'd his parents to traduce, Fawning he smiled, and justice call'd th' abuse; "They taught you nothing; are you not, at best," Said the proud dame, "a trifler, and a jest? Confess you are a fool!"--he bow'd and he con-
This vex'd him much, but could not always last: The dame is buried, and the trial past.
There was a female, who had courted long Her cousin's gifts, and deeply felt the wrong; By a vain boy forbidden to attend
The private councils of her wealthy friend, She vow'd revenge, nor should that crafty boy In triumph undisturb'd his spoils enjoy ; He heard, he smiled, and when the will was read, Kindly dismiss'd the kindred of the dead;
The dear deceased," he call'd her, and the crowd Moved off with curses deep and threatenings loud The youth retired, and, with a mind at ease, Found he was rich, and fancied he must please : He might have pleased, and to his comfort found The wife he wish'd, if he had sought around;
al friends, and shouts, and sings, and For there were lasses of his own degree,
ild speech with action all as wild- en's leader, and himself a child; eir top, or, at their bidding, bends while o'er it leap his laughing friends; weak, he acts the boy once more, ess children call him Silly Shore.
With no more hatred to the state than he : But he had courted spleen and age so long, His heart refused to woo the fair and young; So long attended on caprice and whim He thought attention now was due to him, And as his flattery pleased the wealthy dame, Heir to the wealth he might the flattery claim; But this the fair, with one accord, denied, Nor waved for man's caprice the sex's pride: There is a season when to them is due Worship and awe, and they will claim it too. Fathers," they cry, "long hold us in their chain, Nay, tyrant brothers claim a right to reign; Uncles and guardians we in turn obey, And husbands rule with ever-during sway; Lear, act 1. sc. 2. Short is the time when lovers at the feet
"HOMAS; OR, THE PRECIPITATE CHOICE.
Such smiling rogues as these,
Is, oft bite the holy cords in twain, rinsicate t' unloose
other self, my counsel's consistory, cle, my prophet,
hild will go by thy direction.
Richard III. act ii. sc. 2.
t have pity upon her, I'm a villain; if I do not ain a Jew.
Of beauty kneel, and own the slavery sweet; And shall we this our triumph, this the aim And boast of female power, forbear to claim? No! we demand that homage, that respect. Or the proud rebel punish and reject." Our hero, still too indolent, too nice
Much Ado about Nothing, act ii. sc. 3. To pay for beauty the accustom'd price,
are soft, mild, pitiable, flexible; ou art obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. Henry VI. part 3, act ii. sc. 4.
ist be told of it, and he shall; the office es a woman best; I'll take it upon me; Ove honey-mouth'd, let my tongue blister. Winter's Tale, act ii. sc. 2.
No less forbore t' address the humbler maid, Who might have yielded with the price unpaid; But lived, himself to humour and to please, To count his money, and enjoy his ease.
It pleased a neighbouring 'squire to recommend A faithful youth, as servant to his friend; Nay, more than servant, whom he praised for parts Ductile yet strong, and for the best of hearts Twelfth Night, act ii. sc. 2. One who might ease him in his small affairs, With tenants, tradesmen, taxes, and repairs ; Answer his letters, look to all his dues,
se-I see thou art a wickedness.
THOMAS flatter'd long a wealthy aunt,
Not for his virtues to be praised alone, But for a modest mien and humble tone; Assenting always, but as if he meant Only to strength of reasons to assent:
For was he stubborn, and retain'd his doubt,
Till the more subtle 'squire had forced it out; Nay, still was right, but he perceived, that strong And powerful minds could make the right the wrong."
Let us this night, as one of pleasure date, And of surprise: it is an act of fate."
Go on," the 'squire in happy temper cried; I like such blunder! I approve such guide." They ride, they halt, the farmer comes in haste, Then tells his wife how much their house is graced; They bless the chance, they praise the lucky son That caused the error-Nay! it was not one; But their good fortune-Cheerful grew the 'squire,
When the 'squire's thoughts on some fair damsel Who found dependants, flattery, wine, and fire;
The faithful friend his apprehensions felt;
It would rejoice his faithful heart to find
A lady suited to his master's mind;
But who deserved that master? who would prove That hers was pure, uninterested love? Although a servant, he would scorn to take A countess, till she suffer'd for his sake; Some tender spirit, humble, faithful, true, Such, my dear master! must be sought for you. Six months had pass'd, and not a lady seen With just this love, 'twixt fifty and fifteen; All seem'd his doctrine or his pride to shun, All would be wooed, before they would be won; When the chance naming of a race and fair, Our 'squire disposed to take his pleasure there : The friend profess'd, "Although he first began To hint the thing, it seem'd a thoughtless plan : The roads, he fear'd, were foul, the days were short, The village far, and yet there might be sport."
"What! you of roads and starless nights afraid? You think to govern! you to be obey'd!" Smiling he spoke, the humble friend declared His soul's obedience, and to go prepared.
The place was distant, but with great delight They saw a race, and hail'd the glorious sight: The 'squire exulted, and declared the ride Had amply paid, and he was satisfied. They gazed, they feasted, and, in happy mood, Homeward return'd, and hastening as they rode; For short the day, and sudden was the change From light to darkness, and the way was strange; Our hero soon grew peevish, then distress'd; He dreaded darkness, and he sigh'd for rest: Going, they pass'd a village, but, alas! Returning, saw no village to repass; The 'squire remember'd too a noble hall, Large as a church, and whiter than its wall: This he had noticed as they rode along, And justly reason'd that their road was wrong. George, full of awe, was modest in reply, "The fault was his, 'twas folly to deny ; And of his master's safety were he sure, There was no grievance he would not endure." This made his peace with the relenting 'squire, Whose thoughts yet dwelt on supper and a fire; When, as they reach'd a long and pleasant green, Dwellings of men, and next a man were seen. "My friend," said George, "to travellers astray Point out an inn, and guide us on the way."
The man look'd up; "Surprising! can it be My master's son? as I'm alive, 'tis he."
"How! Robin," George replied," and are we near My father's house? how strangely things appear! Dear sir, though wanderers, we at last are right: Let us proceed, and glad my father's sight; We shall at least be fairly lodged and fed, I can ensure a supper and a bed;
He heard the jack turn round, the busy dame Produced her damask; and with supper came The daughter, dress'd with care, and full of maid. en shame.
Surprised, our hero saw the air and dress, And strove his admiration to express ; Nay! felt it too-for Harriet was, in truth, A tall fair beauty in the bloom of youth; And from the pleasure and surprise, a grace Adorn'd the blooming damsel's form and face; Then too, such high respect and duty paid By all-such silent reverence in the maid; Venturing with caution, yet with haste, a glance; Loath to retire, yet trembling to advance, Appear'd the nymph, and in her gentle guest Stirr'd soft emotions till the hour of rest: Sweet was his sleep, and in the morn again He felt a mixture of delight and pain.
How fair, how gentle," said the 'squire, "how meek,
And yet how sprightly, when disposed to speak! Nature has bless'd her form, and Heaven her mind, But in her favours Fortune is unkind; Poor is the maid-nay, poor she cannot prove Who is enrich'd with beauty, worth, and love." The 'squire arose, with no precise intent To go or stay, uncertain what he meant : He moved to part; they begg'd him first to dine; And who could then escape from love and wine? As came the night, more charming grew the fair And seem'd to watch him with a two-fold care: On the third morn, resolving not to stay, Though urged by love, he bravely rode away. Arrived at home, three pensive days he gave To feelings fond and meditations grave; Lovely she was, and, if he did not err, As fond of him as his fond heart of her; Still he delay'd, unable to decide Which was the master passion, love or pride: He sometimes wonder'd how his friend could make And then exulted in, the night's mistake; Had she but fortune, "Doubtless then," he cried, Some happier man had won the wealthy bride." While thus he hung in balance, now inclined To change his state, and then to change his mind That careless George dropp'd idly on the ground A letter, which his crafty master found; The stupid youth confess'd his fault, and pray'd The generous 'squire to spare a gentle maid; Of whom her tender mother, full of fears, Had written much; "She caught her oft in tears, For ever thinking on a youth above Her humble fortune: still she own'd not love; Nor can define, dear girl! the cherish'd pain, But would rejoice to see the cause again: That neighbouring youth, whom she endured be
She now rejects, and will behold no more :
gazed-she saw and was undone: lured her not, nor was she moved or state, himself she loved; Dod, so gracious, so genteel,ar sister, and her love conceal; fault forgive, since she the pain must
d the 'squire, "there's coarseness in nd
ceives of feelings so refined; doubts, nor blame yourself, my friend, ou careless;-here my doubts have
s plain before us-there is now visit first, and then the vow ond, the marriage rite, the bride er home with all a husband's pride; receives the prize his merits won, I parents leave the patron son. rt time he saw with much surprise, then grief, and then resentment rise, commanding frowns, and anger-dart-
Harriet's humble mind this fire, mpatience?" ask'd the puzzled 'squire: ge changed her? or the mask she wore wn by, and is herself once more?'' -hour, when clouds on clouds appear, ore dark, we know the tempest near; frowning brow, the restless form, ning glance, forerun domestic storm : husband, and, with troubled mind, =fears;-" My love, I hope you find pleasant; but I must confess fended, or in some distress: grief you feel, and leave me to redress." to you?" replied the nymph," indeed! ne cause from whence the ills proceed? n! to take me from a place, where I comfort underneath the sky; nmure me in a gloomy place, -im monsters of your ugly race, heir canvass staring, make me dread e dark chambers where they hang to !!
or neighbour comes to give that joy, hings here must banish or destroy : he promised coach? the pleasant ride? fortune has a farmer's bride!
pride has placed me just above domestics; and what pays me? love! Ondness I endure each hour,
unwitness'd pomp, unenvied power; r folly, smile at your parade, our favourite dishes duly made; richly dress'd for you t' admire, y duty and my lord's desire; fe for youth, for health, for joy? my duties, this my base employ ? y father's house will I repair, your idle wealth support me there; our wish to have an humble bride
Swept from the earth his substance and his name; So, lost to every promised joy of life,
Our 'squire stood gaping at his angry wife ;- His fate, his ruin, where he saw it vain To hope for peace, pray, threaten, or complain; And thus, betwixt his wonder at the ill And his despair, there stood he gaping still. Your answer, sir ;-shall I depart a spot I thus detest ?"-" O, miserable lot!" Exclaim'd the man. Go, serpent! nor remain To sharpen wo by insult and disdain : A nest of harpies was I doom'd to meet; What plots, what combinations of deceit! I see it now; all plann'd, design'd, contrived; Served by that villain-by this fury wived- What fate is mine! What wisdom, virtue, truth, Can stand, if demons set their traps for youth? He lose his way! vile dog! he cannot lose The way a villain through his life pursues; And thou, deceiver! thou afraid to move, And hiding close the serpent in the dove! I saw-but, fated to endure disgrace- Unheeding saw the fury in thy face; And call'd it spirit;-O! I might have found Fraud and imposture-all the kindred round! A nest of vipers
-"Sir, I'll not admit These wild effusions of your angry wit: Have you that value, that we all should use Such mighty arts for such important views? Are you such prize, and is my state so fair That they should sell their souls to get me there? Think you that we alone our thoughts disguise? When in pursuit of some contended prize,
Mask we alone the heart, and soothe whom we de- spise !
Speak you of craft and subtle schemes, who know That all your wealth you to deception owe; Who play'd for ten dull years a scoundrel part, To worm yourself into a widow's heart? Now, when you guarded, with superior skill, That lady's closet, and preserved her will, Blind in your craft, you saw not one of those Opposed by you might you in turn oppose ; Or watch your motions, and by art obtain Share of that wealth you gave your peace to gain? Did conscience never"-
Cease, tormentor, cease- Or reach me poison-let me rest in peace!" Agreed-but hear me-let the truth appear."
Then state your purpose; I'll be calm and hear." Know then, this wealth, sole object of your care, I had some right, without your hand, to share ; My mother's claim was just; but soon she saw Your power, compell'd, insulted, to withdraw: 'Twas then my father, in his anger, swore You should divide the fortune, or restore; Long we debated ;-and you find me now Heroic victim to a father's vow; Like Jephthah's daughter, but in different state, And both decreed to mourn our early fate; Hence was my brother servant to your pride,
All that you love you must with others share, Or all you dread from their resentment dare! Yet terms I offer-let contention cease: Divide the spoil, and let us part in peace."
Our hero trembling heard-he sat—he rose- Nor could his motions nor his mind compose; He paced the room-and, stalking to her side, Gazed on the face of his undaunted bride; And nothing there but scorn and calm aversion spied.
He would have vengeance, yet he fear'd the law: Her friends would threaten, and their power he saw; "Then let her go:"-but O! a mighty sum Would that demand, since he had let her come · Nor from his sorrows could he find redress, Save that which led him to a like distress, And all his ease was in his wife to see A wretch as anxious and distress'd as he : Her strongest wish, the fortune to divide And part in peace, his avarice denied ; And thus it happen'd, as in all deceit, The cheater found the evil of the cheat; The husband grieved-nor was the wife at rest; Him she could vex, and he could her molest ; She could his passion into frenzy raise, But when the fire was kindled. fear'd the blaze: As much they studied, so in time they found The easiest way to give the deepest wound; But then, like fencers, they were equal still, Both lost in danger what they gain'd in skill; Each heart a keener kind of rancour gain'd, And paining more, was more severely pain'd; And thus by both were equal vengeance dealt, And both the anguish they inflicted felt.
Then she plots, then she ruminates, then she devises; and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect. Merry Wives of Windsor, act ii. sc. 2 She hath spoken that she should not, I am sure of that; Heaven knows what she hath known.
Macbeth, act v. sc. 1. Our house is hell, and thou a merry devil. Merchant of Venice, act ii. sc. 3. And yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit of too much, as they that starve with nothing; it is no mean happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean. Id. act i. sc. 2.
A VICAR died, and left his daughter poor- It hurt her not, she was not rich before: Her humble share of worldly goods she sold, Paid every debt, and then her fortune told; And found, with youth and beauty, hope and health, Two hundred guineas was her worldly wealth; It then remain'd to choose her path in life, And first, said Jessy, "Shall I be a wife?- Colin is mild and civil, kind and just, I know his love, his temper I can trust; But small his farm, it asks perpetual care, And we must toil as well as trouble share: True, he was taught in all the gentle arts That raise the soul, and soften human hearts;
And boasts a parent, who deserves to shine In higher class, and I could wish her mine; Nor wants he will his station to improve, A just ambition waked by faithful love;- Still is he poor-and here my father's friend Deigns for his daughter, as her own, to send ; A worthy lady, who it seems has known A world of griefs and troubles of her own: I was an infant, when she came, a guest Beneath my father's humble roof to rest; Her kindred all unfeeling, vast her woes, Such her complaint, and there she found repose; Enrich'd by fortune, now she nobly lives, And nobly, from the blest abundance, gives; The grief, the want of human life, she knows. And comfort there and here relief bestows; But are they not dependants?-Foolish pride Am I not honour'd by such friend and guide? Have I a home," (here Jessy dropp'd a tear,) "Or friend beside ?"-A faithful friend was near. Now Colin came, at length resolved to lay His heart before her and to urge her stay; True, his own plough the gentle Colin drove, An humble farmer with aspiring love; Who, urged by passion, never dared till now, Thus urged by fears, his trembling hopes avow: Her father's glebe he managed; every year The grateful vicar held the youth more dear; He saw indeed the prize in Colin's view, And wish'd his Jessy with a man so true; Timid as true, he urged with anxious air His tender hope, and made the trembling prayer; When Jessy saw, nor could with coldness see, Such fond respect, such tried sincerity. Grateful for favours to her father dealt, She more than grateful for his passion felt; Nor could she frown on one so good and kind, Yet fear'd to smile, and was unfix'd in mind; But prudence placed the female friend in view- What might not one so rich and grateful do? So lately, too, the good old vicar died, His faithful daughter must not cast aside The signs of filial grief, and be a ready bride: The village beauty purposed to retreat; Thus, led by prudence, to the lady's seat But as in hard-fought fields the victor knows What to the vanquish'd he in honour owes, So in this conquest over powerful love, Prudence resolved a generous foe to prove; And Jessy felt a mingled fear and pain In her dismission of a faithful swain, Gave her kind thanks, and when she saw his
Kindly betray'd that she was loath to go;
But would she promise, if abroad she met A frowning world, she would remember yet Where dwelt a friend?"-"That could she not forget."
And thus they parted; but each faithful heart Felt the compulsion and refused to part.
Now by the morning mail the timid maid Was to that kind and wealthy dame convey'd; Whose invitation, when her father died, Jessy as comfort to her heart applied;
She knew the days her generous friend had seen As wife and widow, evil days had been; She married early, and for half her life Was an insulted and forsaken wife;
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