Imagens das páginas
[ocr errors]

should reside in the same house with resolved to conquer that weakness my two charming friends, and not Alas ! I know not what to do: to have a predilection for one of them ?' be ungrateful to your brother, and

Maria took not her eyes from her forfeit my promise, I cannot hear work.-'What say you, Harriet, to the thought of; but to give him my this?' said she.

hand under such circumstances is What do you say, Maria ?' impossible.'

I protest I have no other parti * Nor would he accept it,' said I. ality for Charles than as a friend, He has long suspected the cause of nor have I ever conceived he enter- your anxiety, and it is by his desire tained any other for me.'

I entered on the conversation. De Come,' said I, we will not dwell not, my dear girl, distress yourself : on the subject in this way: I con my brother is generous and candid.' sider you both as frank and ingenua I know he is,' replied the weepe ous; don't on this occasion give me ing Maria,' but he will despise mez reason to doubt it. I have long he will cease to be


friend.' observed, with deep regret, the me. Then turning to Harriet - My sister lancholy of my dear Maria: it is too will despise me. I have set her natural I should search in my own a pattern of duplicity.' ideas for a cause. This young man Impossible !' said she, and em is, by all accounts, extremely amie braced her. My Maria is my patable: what if I should say his merit tern in every thing.': has made an impression on

It would be endless to repeat all Oh! stop, madam,' interrupted that passed between us on this occaMaria : "have I not engaged myself sion.' I promised to write to you by to your worthy brother, and cạn I the next day's post. I endeavoured prove ungrateful for his kind par- to argue Maria out of her passion for tiality to me?'

this young man, which really apWho,' resumed I, 'can com pears to me an unfortunate one; but mand their affections. It is no fault. it seems to have taken a lasting root to prefer one object to another; but in her heart. She is only anxious ať it is a fault to give your hand with- present to acquit herself in your out your heart."

eyes of ingratitude and caprice.--'He The dear girl caught my hand, retains, and ever will retain,' said and 'agitated beyond description- she, 'the second place in my heart:

No, my dear madam,' said she, would I could bestow on kim the I will have no reserves to you. first!' But I do not deserve your kind 50-' I am not at a loss to guess what licitude. I have been guilty of an your determination will be; but I error in the highest degree repre hope, in parting with Maria, you hensible. I have promised to be will not part with yoar peace of come the wife of colonel Ambrose, mind. You are past the romantic and

age. Give me your advice how to You have given your heart to act in regard to the brother, for to Charles Wentworth,' interrupted I. acquaint him with all the truth must

. May I endeavour at an extenua not be. His narrow soul is totally intion of my fault? I knew not half capable of comprehending such remy affection until he quitted England. fined delicacy as Maria's; and were His absence I then found alınost he acquainted with it she would be insupportable. One moment I re- subject to his anger, and perhaps solved to lay before you and your resentment.-Adieu, riy dear brobrothér my weakness, and the next ther! Be assured ( most tenderly

[ocr errors]

sympathise in your distress, and are continue to possess her friendship, I ready to contribute all in my power

care for little else. I have almost for its alleviation.

heroism enough to say I shall be Yours most affectionately, happy to see her the wife of Charles Lucy AMBROSE. Wentworth, if his fortune and merit,

should, a few years hence, make,

him worthy her preference. I purLETTER XVIII.

posè staying here the remainder of Colonel Ambrose, in answer.

ihe month, though I own I receive

no great pleasure in the company What an interesting letter is my of those country sportsmen, vulgar dear Lucy's? I found it impossible in their manners and dissolute in to reply to it yesterday, and indeed their conduct ; but I think a short feel almost incapable for the task absence will tend to confirm my rethis morning, but I will summon all solution in regard to my future conmy resolution so to do.-My fears duct towards Maria. The advice are then realised : I do not possess and approbation of my dear sister Maria's heart, and she must no will ever be anxiously sought for and longer possess mine. But I may desired by her affectionate brother, yet be allowed to admire her, to be

CHARLES AMBROSE. her friend, and to partake with you of her company. To give her up as

LETTER XIX. my wife has cost me a pang beyond my power to describe ; but reason

Colonel Ambrose to Miss Maria and the consideration of her hapa

Vernon. piness require it, and it is done. 'I thank you for all the particulars you

Dearest Madam, favoured me with: it is impossible I A LETTER yesterday received from can answer to them; the subject my sister has informed me of the affects me too much to permit me to particulars of a conversation that dwell on it. I observe you do not passed a few days since between you, say if Wentworth has an equal par- your sister, and herself.-To see you tiality to her. Pray Heaven she may happy is the first wish of my heart, not become the victim of an hopeless and to endeavour to make you so passion! I should in that case feel 'shall be my constant effort. Wbat more distressed than I do at pre- proof can I give you that those are sent. I have revolved several schemes realiy my sentiments equal to the in my mind as to acquainting the one I am now about to give? I am brother of the change that unhap- going, my dearest Maria, to release pily has taken place, and I can think you from all engagements to myself of nothing better than for Harriet but those of friendship. Yes, pain

in general terms

to tell him

ful as the resignation is I will resian

[ocr errors][ocr errors]


sister, I shall feel as much happiness point as the honour of my best friend. as a person who once aspired to the It is impossible that I can refuse title of your husband can possibly the request you make for my future experience. I refer you to'a letter friendship, and if my company can I have by this post written to my contribute to your satisfaction it is sister, for more of my sentiments. equally at your command; but Mrs. It is painful to me to Uwell on the Ambrose joins me in opinion, that a subject; I will, therefore, at present few months' absence will be more only request the favour of a line desirable. My sister and myself from you to confirm the hopes I en- have received an invitation to spend tertain and have expressed in these the winter with a distant relation in few lines, , and am your obedient Wiltshire. We have thoughts of friend and servant,

accepting it, but in this I will be C. AMBROSE. guided by your wishes : did I not

make them my first consideration I LETTER XX.

should be unworthy your generous

concern. I remain, sir, with the Miss Vernon to Colonel Ambrose, in highest esteem and gratitude, your

ever obliged and obedient servant,

Dear Sir,
The inability I feel to answer as

I ought such a letter as you have ho-
noured me with, can only be equalled

Colonel Ambrose to Mir, Vernon, by the generosity and disinterested

Sir, friendship therein evinced: for that generosity and friendship I beg You will be surprised at the con. leave to offer my grateful acknow- tents of this letter, which is to in ledgements, and, at the same time, form you that I have altered my to assure you that no consideration mind in regard to marrying your but the one of still possessing your sister, or, in short, marrying at all. esteem could give me ease under It is my intention to follow your the conciousness of having wounded example, and continue a bachelor. your peace of mind. Suffer me then Now I hope you will not take amiss to request that you will ascribe my this alteration in my sentiments, present conduct to my weakness, not and I flatter myself that we shall not to my capriciousness. Believe me, be worse friends than before. I sir, independent of consideration re have written to the young lady, and specting my own happiness, I have she declares herself perfectly satisa far greater regard for yours than fied in the matter. As that is the to risque it by bestowing my hand case, and she is the principal person without my heart.--I have now only concerned, I see not why the affair






All Nature feels her renovating sway;

The sheep-fed pasture, and the meadow' gay;
And trees, and shrubs, no longer budding

Display the new-grown branch of lighter

green; By 4. M. L.

On airy downs the shepherd idling lies,

And sees fo-morrow in the marbled skies. * Silence and Darkness! Solemn sisters!

Here ther, my soul, thy darling theme purFrom ancient Night, who nurse the tender

For ev'ry day was Giles a shepherd too. thought

Small was his charge: no wilds had they

to roan; To reason, and on reason build resolve, Assist me!'

But bright enclosures circling round their

home. Young. Nor yellow-blossom'd furze, nor stubborn

thorn, THE lovely month of May, with The heath's rough produce, had their fleeces all her train of bloom-bedecked attendants, had appeared, to bless the Yet ever roving, ever seeking thee, growing year.

Enchanting spirit, dear Variety!

O happy tenants, prisoners of a day! • Soft as the slumb'ring infant's sigh'

Relcas'd to ease, to pleasure, and to play;

Indulg'd through ev'ry field by turns to range, was her balmy breath: all nature

And taste them all in one continual change.

For though luxuriant their grassy food, felt its genial influence; the birds Slicep long confin'd but loathe the present warbled their grateful thanks to Na

good; ture's God for his beneficence; and Bleating around the homeward gate they

meet, delighted man might exclain

And starve and pine, with plenty at their

feet. • How soft is now the gently-passing breeze; Loos'd from the winding lane, a joyful throng, How sweet the cowslip that bedecks the See, o'er you pasture, how they prur along. vale;

Giles 'round their boundaries takes his usual How pure the green that decorates theʼtrees;

stroll; How full of melody the wood-bird's tale; Sees ev'ry pass secur'd, and fences whole; How rich the landscape bursts upon the sight; High fences, proud to charın the gazing eye,

How still the streamlet wanders on its way! Where many a nestling first essays to fly; No more we find dull Winter's length’ning Where blows the woodbine faintly streak'd night,

with red, But hailine softest hour of Spring's bright And rests on every bough its tender head; day,'

Round the young ash its twining branches Autler's Manuscript Peenis. meet,

Or crown the hawthorn with its odours Bloomfield, in his Farmer's Boy,' has displayed the rustic nccupations Sav, ye chat know, ye who have felt and seen of spring with great beauty; among

Spring's morning smiles, and soul-enliv'ning

green; the rest, the description of Spring Say, did you give the thrilling transport way? and her attendants, with Giles's, em- Did your eye brighten, when young lambs at ployment as a shepherd, are particu- Leap d'o'er your path with animated pride, larly pleasing.

Or gaz'd in merry ciusters by your side?

Ye who can smile, to wisdom no disgrace, · Neglected now the early daisy lies; At the arch meaning of a kitten's face; Nor thou, pale primrose, bloon'st the only If spotless innocence, and infant mirth, prize :

Excites to praise, or gives reflection birth; Advancing SPRING profusely spreads abroad In shades like these pursue your fav'rite joy, Fow'rs of all hues, with sweetest fragrance Midst Nature's revels, sports that never stor'd;

cloy. Where'er she treads, love gladdens ev'ry plain,

Such was the season, and such Diliglt on tiptoe bears her lucid train; Sweet Hope, with conscious brow, betcre her sent walk. The fragrant sweetness of

had been the Jav preceding my preflies, Anticipating wealth from Summer skies; the air, luaded with the essence of a


thousand blossoms; the still seres ' satisfactory one. To see a parent die nity of the sky, without a cloud to most assuredly is a painful task ; darken its star-crown'd glory; the but to see him die happy, to feel plaintive song of night's peculiar confident that his sainted spirit will bird, and the distant cadence of a be so, is consolatory in the highest well-known waterfall, were all cir- degree. I know not a greater satiscumstances congenial 10 the mo faction than the recollection of have inent, and to the state of my mind. ing soothed my parent's last hour on A year, a little year, had elapsed, earth, of having knelt by his bedsince a father, my only remaining side when nature yielded up her parent, had sought the « bourne from trust, and in a long, last sigh, his whence no traveller returns.'-And soul sought its heavenward course. shall twelve trifling months make "For e'en the bed where life expiring lies, me forget him ? - forbid it, every So fraught with terror to the feeble mind, grateful feeling of my soul !-Never Causes no fear when there a good man dies, can I forget him; never can I cease

Who fixes hope on heav'n, to death re

sign'd. to remember his unceasing goodness

• So have I scen my life's best friend expire to me. It may, perhaps, not be Without a murmur at each pang of pain. fashionable to seem to possess any Fall fase iny tears; embalm an honour'd sire, feeling, or to remember any kind

Whose spirit fed without one sinful stain. ness that a parent has shewn towards • Father of ev'ry good that here we know ! bis neglectful offspring : apathy may

Lord of all space! Omniscient King of

Heav'n! rule the votaries of fashion, but shall Mercy's great God! best friend of human not be numbered amongst my


To whom eternal honour should be giv'n! catalogue of frailties--for frail is

Grant all the griefs that press upon my soul every child of man, weak as the

May reach it humbleness to thy comreed that trembles in the storm!

mands; My steps were pointed to the Teach it to bend to Mercy's just controul, silent depositary of the dead: there,

And bless the chastening of thy holy hands! undisturbed, I could vent the still . And when the feebly-beating pulse of life

Shall point the path to Nature's op'ning murmurs of my pensire breast; there

tomb, I could call to recollection, uninter. May blest Religion banish sinful strife, rupted by the voice of man, my pa

And like my parent may I meet my doom!"

Author's Poems. rent's every act of affection ; I could, with fancy's soothing aid, picture Having ended my melancholy his form as it was when health shed visit to the grave of my father, I her influence over it; and thus live returned home; for I did not feel over again, as it were, my better inclined, after such a course of moments of existence. ut, ah! thought, to extend my ramble, or fancy too, with tickle mind, pictures let my loftier tone of mind sink to his hours of pain, pitilessly pic- more unworthy objects than those tures his departing moments. Hea-, on which it was tixed. But 'ere I ven knows, I dread not the remem wooed the goddess of repose, I gave brance; no

scream of agonising my late sensations the following conscience fraught the dreadtul hour elegiac form: with horior; no bitter recollection of studid sin disturbed his dying Silence has clos'd the sceñe of noisy day;

Soft-breathing Eve approaches, meek and thoughts; no pang but that of bodily pain was telt. Oh! 'twas an

Whilst I, a lonely being, seck my way, awful moment! but it was a very

To pour on Niglie's still ear the paint of



« AnteriorContinuar »