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Making new efforts, and with some success, And make his equal;, then I fondly thought To pay attention while the students guess ; Among superior creatures to be brought; Who to the gentler mistress fain would glide, And while with them, delighted to behold And dread their station at the lady's side. No eye averted, and no bosom cold ;

Then at my home, a mother, to embrace

My---Oh! iny sister, it was surely base! Such is their fate:— there is a friendly few I inight forget the wrong; I cannot the Whom they receive, and there is chance for

disgrace. you;

Oh! when I saw that triumph in his eyes, Their school, and something gather'd from I felt my spirits with his own arise:

the wreck

I call'd it joy, and said, the generous youth Of that bad Bank, keeps poverty in check; Laughs at my loss- no trial for his truth; And true respect, and high regard, are theirs, It is a trifle he can not lament, The children's profit,and the parents' prayers. A sum but equal to his annual rent; With Lucy rests the one peculiar care, | And yet that loss, the cause of every ill, That few must see, and none with her may Has made me poor, and him'-'0! poorer still;

Poorer, iny Jane, and far below thee now: More dear than hope can be, more sweet than The injurer he,-the injured sufferer thou;

pleasures are. And shall such loss afflict thee?'—Lose I not For her sad sister needs the care of love With him what fortune could in life allot? That will direct her, that will not reprove, Lose I not hope, life's cordial, and the views But waits to warn: for Jane will walk alone, Of an aspiring spirit?-0! I lose Will sing in low and melancholy tone; Wbate'er the happy feel, whate'er the sanWill read or write, or to her plants will run

guine choose. To shun her friends,-alas! her thoughts to Would I could lose this bitter sense of wrong,

And sleep in peace, but it will not be long! It is not love alone disturbs her rest, And here is something, Lucy, in my brain, Bat loss of all that ever hope possess'd; I know not what-it is a cure for pain; Friends ever kind, life's lively pleasures,ease, But is not death!--no beckoning hand I see, When her enjoyments could no longer please; No voice I hear that comes alone to me; These were her comforts then! she has no It is not death, but change; I am not now

more of these. As I was once,-nor can I tell you how ; Wrapt in such thoughts, she feels her mind Nor is it madness—ask, and you shall find

astray,

In my replies the soundness of my mind: But knows 'tis true, that she has lost her way;0! I should be a trouble all day long; For Lacy's smile will check the sudden flight, A very torment, if my head were wrong.' And one kind look let in the wonted light. Fits of long silence she endures, then talks Too much — with too much ardour, as she At times there is upon her features scen,

walks;

What moves suspicion-she is too serene. But still the shrubs that she admires dispense Such is the motion of a drunken man, Their balmy freshness to the hurried sense, Who steps sedately, just to show he can. And she will watch their progress, and attend Absent at times she will her mother call, Her flowering favourites as a guardian friend; And cry at mid-day, “then good night to all.' To sun or shade she will her sweets remove, But most she thinks there will some good And here, she says, I may with safety love.

ensule Butthere are hours when on that bosom steals From something done, or what she is to do; A rising terror, - then indeed she feels; |Long wrapt in silence, she will then assume Feels how she loved the promised good, and An air of business, and shake off her gloom;

how

Then cry exulting, 0! it must succeed, She feels the failure of the promise now. There are ten thousand readers—all men read:

There are my writings, you shall never

spend That other spoiler did as robbers do, Your precious moments to $0 poor an end; Made poor our state, but not diagraceful too. Our peasants' children may be taught by This spoiler shames me, and I look within To find some cause that drew him on to sin; Who have no powers such wonders to comHle and the wretch who conld thy worth

pose; forsake

So let me call them, - what the world allows, are the fork'd adder and the loathsome snake; Surely a poet without shame avows; Thy snake could slip in villain-fear away, Come, let us count what numbers we believe But had no fang to fasten on his prey. Will buy our work-Ab! sister, do you Ob! my dear Lucy, I had thought to live

grieve? With all the comforts easy fortunes give; You weep; there's something I have said A wife caressing, and caress'd,-a friend,

amins, Whom he would guide,advise,consult,defend, | And vex'd my sister-What a world is this !

those,

And how I wander !_Where has fancy run?' I will not have the churchyard-ground,
Is there no poem? Have I nothing done? With bones all black and ugly grown,
Forgive me, Lucy, I had fix'd my eye, To press my shivering body round,
And so my mind, on works that cannot die; Or on my wasted limbs be thrown.
Marmion and Lara yonder in the case,
And so I put me in the poet's place.

With ribs and skulle I will not sleep,
Still, be not frighten’d; it is but a dream ; In clammy beds of cold blue clay,
I am not lost, bewilder'd though I seem; Through which the ringed earth - worms
I will obey thee—but suppress thy fear-

creep, I am at ease,-then why that silly tear?' And on the shrouded bosom prey ;

I will not have the bell proclaim

When those sad marriage-rites begin, Jane, as these melancholy fits invade

And boys, without regard or shame, The basy fancy, seeks the deepest shade; Press the vile mouldering masses in. She walks in ceaseless hurry, till her mind Will short repose in verse and music find; Say not, it is beneath my care; Then her own songs to some soft tunes she I cannot these cold truths allow; singe,

These thoughts may not afflict me there,
And laughs,and calls them melancholy things; But, 0! they vex and tease me now
Not frenzy all; in some her erring Muse Raise not a turf, nor set a stone,
Will sad, afflicting, tender strains infuse: That man a maiden's grave may trace,
Sometimes on death she will her lines com But thou, my Lucy, come alone,
pose;

And let affection find the place.
Or give her serious page of solemn prose ;
And still those favourite plants her fancy 0! take me from a world I hate,
please,

Men cruel, selfish, sensual, cold;
And give to care and anguish rest and ease. And, in some pure and blessed state, *

Let me my sister-minds behold: From gross and sordid views refined,

Our heaven of spotless love to share, Let me not have this gloomy view, For only generous souls design'd, About my room, around my bed;

And not a man to meet us there. But morning-roses, wet with dew,

To cool my burning brows instead.
As flow'rs that once in Eden grew,

Let them their fragrant spirits shed,
And every day the sweets renew,
Till 1, a fading flower, am dead.

воок ІХ. Oh! let the herbs I loved to rear

THE PRECEPTOR HUSBAND.
Give to my sense their perfumed breath;
Let them be placed about my bier,

“Whom pass'd we musing near the woodman's And grace the gloomy house of death.

shed, I'll have my grave beneath an hill,

Whose horse not only carried him but led, Where, only Lucy's self shall know

That his grave rider might have slept the Where runs the pure pellucid rill

time, Upon its gravelly bed below;

Or solved a problem, or composed a rhyme ? There violets on the borders blow,

A more abstracted man within my view And insects their soft light display,

Has never come-He recollected you." Till, as the morning-sunbeams glow,

“Yes,-he was thoughtful- thinks the whole The cold phosphoric fires decay.

day long, Deeply, and chiefly that he once thought

wrong; That is the grave to Lucy shown,

He thought a strong and kindred mind to trace The soil a pure and silver sand,

In the goft outlines of a trifler's face. The green cold moes above it grown,

Poor Finch! I knew him when at school, Unpluck'd of all but maiden hand :

a boy In virgin carth, till then unturn’d,

Who might be said his labours to enjoy ; There let my maiden form be laid,

So young a pedant that he always took Nor let my changed clay be spurn'd,

The girl to dance who most admired her book ; Nor for new guest that bed be made. And would the butler and the cook surprise.

Who listend to bis Latin exercise; There will the lark,- the lamb, in sport, The matron's self the praise of Finch arowd.

In air,--on earth,-securely play, | He was so serious, and he read so loud: And Lucy to my grave resort,

But yet, with all this folly and conceit, As innocent, but not so gay.

The lines he wrote were elegant and neat:

And early promise in his mind appear'd Her mild but dignified reserve supprest
Of noble efforts when by reason clear’d. All free inquiry—but his mind could rest,
And when he spoke of wives, the boy would Assured that all was well, and in that view
say,

was blest. His should be skill'd in Greek and algebra; And now he ask'd, am I the happy man For who would talk with one to whom his Who can deserve her? is there one who can?

themes,

His mother told him, he possess'd the land And farourite studies, were no more than That puts a man in heart to ask a hand;

dreams?

All who possess it feel they bear about For this, though courteous, gentle, and A spell that puts a speedy end to doubt;

humane,

But Finch was modest — May it then be The boys contemnd and hated him as vain,

thought Stiff and pedantic.”—“Did the man enjoy, That she can so be gaind?' _She may be In after-life, the visions of the boy?”

sought: "At least they form'd his wishes, they were Can love with land be won?'-By land is yet

beauty bought. The favourite views on which his mind was Do not, dear Charles, with indignation glow,

set:

All value that the want of which they know; le qnaintly said, how happy must they prove, Nordo I blame her; none that worth denies : Who, loving, stady-or who, studious, love; But can'my son be sure of what he buys? Who feel their minds with sciences imbued, Beauty she has, but with it can you find And their warın hearts by beauty's force The inquiring spirit, or the studious mind ?

subdued.

This wilt thou need who art to thinking prone, His widow'd mother, who the world had seen, And minds unpair'd had better think alone; And better judge of either sex had been, Then how unhappy will the husband be, Told him that just as their affairs were placed, Whose sole associate spoils his company?' In some respects, he must forego his taste; This he would try; but all such trials prove That every beauty, both of form and mind, Too mighty for a man disposed to love; Must be by him, if unendow'd, resign'd; He whom the magic of a face enchains That wealth was wanted for their joint affairs; But little knowledge of the mind obtains; His sisters' portions, and the Hall's repairs. If by his tender heart the man is led, The son assented—and the wife must bring He finds how erring is the soundest head. Wealth, learning, beauty, ere he gave the

ring; But as these merits, when they all unite, The lady saw his purpose; she could meet are not produced in every soil and site; The man's inquiry, and his aim defeat; And when produced are not the certain gain She had a studied flattery in her look, or him who would these precious things She could be seen retiring with a book;

obtain;

She by attending to his speech could prove, Our patient student waited many a year, That she for learning had a fervent love; Nor saw this phenix in his walks appear. Yet love alone, she modestly declared, But as views mended in the joint estate, She must be spared inquiry, and was spared; He would a something in his points abate; Of her poor studies she was not so weak, Give him but learning, beauty, temper, sense, As in his presence, or at all, to speak; And he would then the happy state commence. But to discourse with him-who, all agreed, The mother sigh'd, but she at last agreed, Has read so much, would be absurd indeed; And now the son was likely to succeed; Ask what he might, she was so much a dunce Wealth is substantial good the fates allot, She would confess her ignorance at once. We know we have it, or we have it not; All this the man believed not, — doom'd to Bat all those graces, which men highly rate,

grieve Their minds themselves imagine and create; For his belief, he this would not believe: And therefore Finch was in a way to find No! he was quite in raptures to discern A good that much depended on his mind. That love, and that avidity to learn. He look'd around, observing, till he saw Could she have found,' she said, “a friend, Augusta Dallas! when he felt an awe

a guide, of so much beauty and commanding grace, Like him, to study had been all her pride; That well became the honours of her race: But, doom'd so long to frivolous employ, This lady never boasted of the trash How could she those superior views enjoy? That commerce brings: she never spoke of The day might come--a happy day for her,

cash;

When she might choose the ways she should The gentle blood that ran in every vein

prefer.' At all auch notions blush'd in pure disdain. Then too he learn'd, in accidental way, Wealth once relinquish'd, there was all beside, How much she grieved to lose the given day As Finch believed, that conld adorn a bride; In dissipation wild, in visitation gay. He could not gaze upon the form and air, Happy, most happy, must the woman prove Without concluding all was right and fair; / Who proudly looks on him she vows to love; Who can her humble acquisitions state, Madam! he cried, offended with her look., That he will praise, at least will tolerate. There's time for all things, and not all for Still the cool mother sundry doubts ex

books: pressid,

Just on one's marriage to sit down, and prate “How! is Augusta graver than the rest ? On points of learning, is a thing I hate.There are three others: they are not inclined | 'Tis right, my son, and it appears to me To feed with precious food the empty mind: If deep your hatred, you must well agrce. Whence this strong relish ?' It is very strong, Finch was too angry for a man so wire, Replied the son, and has possess'd her long, And said: Insinuation I despise! Increased indeed, I may presume, by views, Nor do I wish to have a mind so full We may suppose-ah! may she not refuse? Of learned trash-it makes a woman dull: •Fear not!-I see the question must be tried, Let it suffice, that I in her discern Nay, is determined-let us to your Bride.' An aptitude, and a desire to learn.They soon were wedded, and the Nymph The matron siniled, but she observed a frown

appear'd

On her son's brow, and calmly sat her down; By all her promised excellence endear'd: Leaving the truth to Time, who solves our Her words were kind, were cautious, and

doubt, were few,

By bringing his all-glorious daughter outAnd she was proud — of what her husband Truth! for whose beauty all their love knew.

profess, Weeks pass'd away, some five or six, before, And yet how many think it ugliness! Blega'd in the present, Finch could think of

more: A month was next upon a journey spent, Augusta, love, said Finch, while you engage When to the Lakes the fond companions went; In that embroidery, let me read a page; Then the gay town received them, and, at Suppose it Hume's; indeed he takes a side,

last,

| But still an author need not be our guide; Home to their mansion, man and wife, they And as he writes with elegance and ease,

pass'd.

| Do now attend he will be sure to please.

Here at the Revolution we commence,And now in quiet way they came to live We date, you know, our liberties from hence. On what their fortune, love, and hopes would Yes, sure, Augusta answer'd with a smile,

give:

Our teacher always talk'd about his style ; The honied moon had nought but silver rays, When we about the Revolution read, And shone benignly on their early days; And how the Martyrs to the flames were led ; The second moon a light lens vivid shed, The good old Bishops, I forget their names, And now the silver rays were tinged with lead. But they were all committed to the flames; They now began to look beyond the Hall, Maidens and widows, bachelors and wives, And think what friends would make a morn- The very babes and sucklings lost their lives.

ing-call;

I read it all in Guthrie at the school, Their former appetites return'd, and now What now! I know you took me for a fool; Both could their wishesand their tastes avow; There were five Bishops taken from the stall, 'Twas now no longer just what you approve,'| And twenty widows, I remember all; But let the wild fowl be to-day, my love.' And by this token, that our teacher tried In fact the senses, drawn aside by force To cry for pity, till she howlid and cried. Of a strong passion,sought their usual course. True, true, my love, but you mistake the Now to her music would the wife repair,

thing, To which he listen'd once with eager air; The Revolution that made William king When there was so much harmony within, Is what I mean; the Reformation you, That any note was sure its way to win; In Edward and Elizabeth.'-"Tin true: But now the sweet melodious tones were sent But the nice reading is the love between From the struck chords, and nonc cared where The brave lord Essex and the cruel queen;

they went. | And how he sent the ring to save his head, Full well we know that many a favourite air, Which the false lady kept till he was dead. That charms a party, fails to charm a pair; That is all trne: now read, and I'll attend : And as Augusta play'd she look'd around, But was not she a most deceitful friend? To see if one was dying at the sound : It was a monstrous, vile, and treacherous But all were gone – a husband, wrapt in

gloom,

To show no pity, and to keep the ring : Stalk'd careless, listless, up and down the But the queen shook her in her dying bed,

And God forgive you!' was the word she And now 'tis time to fill that ductile mind

said; With knowledge, from his stores of various Not I for certain !-Come, I will attend,

So read the Revolutions to an end. His mother, in a pcevish mood, had ask'd, Finch, with a timid, strange, inquiring look, Does your Augusta profit ? is she task'd ? Softly and slowly laid aside the book

kind:

thing,

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With sigh inaudible—Come, never heed, When we have made some progrese,--Now Said he, recovering, now I cannot read.

begin,.. Which is the stigma, show me with the pin:

Come, I have told you, dearest, let me sec, They walk'd at leisure through their wood Times very many,-tell it now to me.

and groves,

Stigma! I know, the things with yellow In fields and lanes, and talk'd of plants and

heads, loves,

| That shed the dust, and grow upon the And loves of plants.-Said Finch: Augusta,

threads; dear,

You call them wives and husbands, but you You said you loved to learn,--were you

know sincere?

That is a joke-here, look, and I will show Do you remember that you told me onccAll I remember.'—Doleful was the look How much you grieved, and said you were of the preceptor, when he shut his book,

a dunce?

(The system brought to aid them in their That is, you wanted information. Say,

view) What would you learn? I will direct your And now with sighs return'd—It will not do.

way. Goodness! said she, what meanings you

discern

TA handsome face first led him to suppose, In a few words! I said I wish'd to learn, There must be talent with such looks as And so I think I did; and you replied,

those; The wish was good: what would you now The want of talent taught him now to find

beside ?

The face less handsome with so poor a mind; Did not you say it show'd an ardent mind; And half the beauty faded, when he found And pray what more do you expect to find ? His cherish'd hopes were falling to the My dear Augusta, could you wish indeed

ground. For any knowledge, and not then proceed? Finch lost his spirit; but e'en then he sought That is not wishing—'Mercy! how you tease! For fancied powers: she might in time be You knew I said it with a view to please ;

taught. A compliment to you, and quite enough,- Sure there was nothing in that mind to fear; You would not kill me with that puzzling The favourite study did not yet appear.

stuff! Sure I might say I wish’d; but that is still Far from a promise: it is not,-I will. Once he express'd a doubt if she could look But come, to show you that I will not hide For five succeeding minutes on a book; My proper talents, you shall be my guide; When, with awaken'd spirit, she replied, And lady Bothby, when we meet, shall cry, He was mistaken, and she would be tried. She's quite as good a botanist as I.' With this delighted, he new hopes exRight, my Augusta; and, in manner grave,

press'd, Finch his first lecture on the science gave; How do I know?_She may abide the test? An introduction, and he said, My dear, Men I have known, and famous in their day, Your thought was happy, let us persevere; Who were by chance directed in their way: And let no trifling cause our work retard ; I have been hasty.-Well, Augusta, well, Agreed the lady, but she fear'd it hard. What is your favourite reading? prithee tell;

Our different tastes may different books

require,Nov o'er the grounds they rambled many Yours I may not peruse, and yet admire:

a mile;

Do then explain-Good Heaven! said she, He show'd the flowers, the stamina, the

in haste, style,

| How do I hate these lectures upon taste! Calix and corol, pericarp and fruit,

I lecture not, my love; but do declare, And all the plant producer, branch and root; Yon read you say-what your attainments or these be treated, every varying shape,

are.' Till poor Angusta panted to escape: Oh! you believe, said she, that other things He shew'd the various foliage plants produce, Are read as well as histories of kings, Lanate and lyrate, runcinate, retuse; And loves of plants, with all that simple stuff Long were the learned words, and urged | About their sex, of which I know enough.

with force, Well, if I must, I will my studies name, Panduriforin, pinnatifid, premorse,

Blame if you please_I know you love to Latent, and patent, papulous, and plane,

blame. Oh! maid the pupil, it will turn my brain. When all our childish books were set apart, Fear not, he answer'd, and again, intent The first I read was Wanderings of the To all that mind, o'cr class and order went;

Heart ; And stopping: Now, said he, my love, attend. It was a story, where was done a deed 1 do, said she, but when will be an end? So dreadful, that alone I fear'd to read.

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