By trade a tailor, though, in scorn of trade,
He served the 'Squire, and brush'd the coat he made:
Yet now, would Phœbe her consent afford,
Her slave alone, again he'd mount the board;
With her should years of, growing love be spent,
And growing wealth:-she sigh'd and look'd con-

(Seen by but few, and blushing to be seen-
Dejected, thoughtful, anxious, and afraid,)
Led by the lover, walk'd the silent maid:
Slow through the meadows roved they, many a mile
Toy'd by cach bank and trifled at each stile;
Where, as he painted every blissful view,
And highly colour'd what he strongly drew,
The pensive damsel, prone to tender, fears,
Dimm'd the false prospect with prophetic tears.-
Thus pass'd th' allotted hours, till lingering late,
The lover loiter'd at the master's gate;
There he pronounced adieu!—and yet would stay
Till chidden-soothed-entreated-forced away;
He would of coldness, though indulged, complain,
And oft retire, and oft return again;
When, if his teasing vex'd her gentle mind,
For he would proof of plighted kindness crave,
The grief assumed, compell'd her to be kind!
That she resented first, and then forgave,
And to his grief and penance yielded more
Than his presumption had required before.-
Ah! fly temptation, youth; refrain! refrain!
Each yielding maid and each presuming swain!

Lo! now with red rent cloak and bonnet black, And torn green gown loose hanging at her back, One who an infant in her arms sustains,

Unfee'd, the calls of nature she obeys,
Not led by profit, nor allured by praise;
And waiting long, till these contentions cease,
She speaks of comfort, and departs in peace.
Friend of distress! the mourner feels thy aid,
She cannot pay thee, but thou wilt be paid.

But who this child of weakness, want, and care?
Tis Phoebe Dawson, pride of Lammas Fair;
Who took her lover for his sparkling eyes,
Expressions warm, and love-inspiring lies:
Compassion first assail'd her gentle heart,
For all his suffering, all his bosom's smart:
"And then his prayers! they would a savage move,
And win the 'coldest of the sex to love:".
But ah! too soon his looks success declared,
Too late her loss the marriage-rite repair'd;
The faithless flatterer then his vows forgot,
A captious tyrant or a noisy soț:

If present, railing, till he saw her pain'd;
If absent, spending what their labours gain'd;
Till that fair form in want and sickness pined,
And hope and comfort fled that gentle mind.
Then fly temptation, youth; resist, refrain!
Nor let me preach for ever and' in vain !

Next came a well-dress'd pair, who left their coach,
And made, in long procession, slow approach:
For this gay bride had many a female friend,
And youths were there, this favour'd youth t'attend:
Silent, nor wanting due respect, the crowd
Stood humbly round, and gratulation bow'd;
But not that silent crowd, in wonder fix'd,,
Not numerous friends, who praise and envy mix'd,
Nor nymphs attending near to swell the pride
Of one more fair, the ever-smiling bride;
Nor that gay bride, adorn'd with every grace,
Nor love nor joy triumphant in her face,
Could from the youth's, sad signs of sorrow chase:
Why didst thou grieve? wealth, pleasure, freedom,

thine;

Vex'd it thy soul, that freedom to resign?
Spake Scandal truth? "Thou didst not then intend
So soon to bring thy wooing to an end?"
Or, was it, as our prating rustics say,
To end as soon, but in a different way?
'Tis told thy Phyllis is a skilful dame,
Who play'd uninjured with the dangerous flame:
That, while, like Lovelace, thou thy coat display'd,
And hid the snare for her affection laid,
Thee, with her net, she found the means to catch,
And, at the amorous see-saw, won'the match :*
Yet others tell, the Captain fix'd thy doubt,
He'd call thee brother, or he'd call thee out :-
But rest the motive-all retreat too late,
Joy like thy bride's should on thy brow have sate;
The deed had then appear'd thine own intent,
A glorious day, by gracious fortune sent,
In each revolving year to be in triumph spent:
Then in few weeks that cloudy brow had been
Without a wonder or a whisper seen;
And none had been so weak as to inquire,

How fair these names, how much unlike they
look

To all the blurr'd subscriptions in my book:
The bridegroom's letters stand in row above,
Tapering yet stout, like pine-trees in his grove;
While free, and fine the bride's appear below,
As light and slender as her jasmines grow.
Mark now in what confusion, stoop or stand,
The crooked scrawls of many a clownish hand;
Now out, now in, they droop, they fall, they rise,
Like raw recruits drawn forth for exercise;
Ere yet reform'd and modell'd by the drill,
The free-born legs stand striding as they will,

Much have I tried to guide the fist along.
But still the blunderers placed their blottings wrong:
Behold these mark's uncouth! how strange that men
Who guide the plough, should fail to guide the pen!
For half a mile, the furrows even lie;
For half an inch the letters 'stand awry ;-
Our peasants, strong and sturdy in the field,
Cannot these arms of idle students wield :
Like them, in feudal days, their valiant lords
Resign'd the pen and grasp'd their conqu'ring
swords;

They to robed clerks and poor dependent men
Left the light duties of the peaceful pen ;
Nor to their ladies wrote, but sought to prove,
By deeds of death, their hearts were fill'd with love.

Our rustic nymphs the beau and scholar prize;
But yet, small arts have charms for female eyes;
Unletter'd swains and ploughmen coarse they slight,
For those who dress, and amorous scrolls indite.

Had Footman Daniel scorn'd his native green;
For Lucy Collins happier days had been,
Or when he came an idle coxcomb down,
Had he his love reserved for lass in town;
To Stephen Hill she then had pledged her truth,—
A sturdy, sober, kind, unpolish'd youth;
But from the day, that fatal day she spied
The pride of Daniel, Daniel was her pride.
In all concerns was Stephen just and true;
But coarse his doublet was and patch'd in view,
And felt his stockings were, and blacker than his
shoe;

While Daniel's linen all was fine and fair,-
His master wore it, and he deign'd to wear:
(To wear his livery, some respect might prove;
Blue was his coat, unsoil'd by spot or stain;
To wear his linen, must be sign of love :)
A silver knot his breadth of shoulder bore;
His hose were silk, his shoes of Spanish-grain ;

A diamond buckle blazed his breast before-
Diamond he swore it was! and show'd it as he

swore;

Could pick-tooth case and box for snuff command ·
Rings on his fingers shone; his milk-white hand
And thus, with clouded cane, a fop complete,
He stalk'd, the jest and glory of the street.
Join'd with these powers, he could so sweetly sing,
Talk with such toss, and saunter with such swing;
Laugh with such glee, and trifle with such art,

"Why pouts my Lady?" or "why frowns the That Lucy's promise fail'd to shield her heart.

'Squire ?"

*Clarissa, vol. vii. Lovelace's Letter.

Stephen, meantime, to ease his amorous cares,
Fix'd his full mind upon his farm's affairs;
Two pigs, a cow, and wethers half a score,
Increased his stock, and still he look'd for more

1

He, for his acres few, so duly paid,
That yet more acres to his lot were laid;
Till our chaste nymphs no longer felt disdain,
And prudent matrons praised the frugal swain;
Who thriving well, through many a fruitful year,
Now clothed himself anew, and acted overseer.

Till, all her varnish lost, in few short years,
In all her worth, the farmer's wife appears.

Yet not the ancient kind; nor she who gave
Her soul to gain-a mistress and a slave :
Who not to sleep allow'd the needful time;
To whom repose was loss, and sport a crime;
Who, in her meanest room (and all were mean),
A noisy drudge, from morn till night was seen ;—
But she, the daughter, boasts a decent room,
Adorn'd' with carpet, form'd in Wilton's loom;
Fair prints along the paper'd wall are spread;
Ste-There, Werter sees the sportive children fed,
And Charlotte, here, bewails her lover dead.

Just then poor Lucy, from her friend in town, Fled in pure fear, and came a beggar down; Trembling, at Stephen's door she knock'd bread,

Was chidden first, next pitied, and then fed ; Then sat at Stephen's board, then shared in phen's bed:

All hope of marriage lost in her disgrace,
He mourns a flame revived, and she a love of lace.
Now to be wed a well-match'd couple came;
Twice had old Lodge been tied, and twice the dame;
Tottering they came and toying, (odious scene!)
And fond and simple, as they'd always been.
Children from wedlock we by laws restrain;
Why not prevent them, when they 're such again?
Why not forbid the doting souls, to prove
Th' indecent fondling of preposterous love?
In spite of prudence, uncontroll'd by shame,
The amorous,senior woos the toothless dame,
Relating idly, at the closing eve,
The youthful follies he disdains to leave;
Till youthful follies wake a transient fire,
When arm in arm they totter and retire.

So a fond pair of solemn birds, all day,
Blink in their seat, and doze the hours away
Then by the moon awaken'd, forth they move,
And fright the songsters with their cheerless love.
So two sear trees, dry, stunted, and unsound,
Each other catch, when dropping to the ground;
Entwine their wither'd arms 'gainst wind and wea-
ther,

And shake their leafless heads and drop together.
So two cold limbs, touch'd by Galvani's wire,
Move with new life, and feel awaken'd fire;
Quivering awhile, their flaccid forms remain,
Then turn to cold torpidity again.

"Tis here, assembled, while in space apart
Their husbands, drinking, warm the opening heart,
Our neighbouring dames, on festal days, unite
With tongues more fluent and with hearts as light;
Theirs is that art, which English wives alone
Profess-a boast and privilege their own;
An art it is, where each at once attends
To all, and claims attention from her friends,
When they engage the tongue, the eye, the ear,
Reply when list'ning, and when speaking hear :
The ready converse knows no dull delays,
"But double are the pains, and double be the
praise."*

Yet not to those alone who bear command
Heaven gives a heart to hail the marriage band;
Among their servants, we the pairs can show,
Who much to love and more to prudence owe:
Reuben and Rachel, though as fond as doves,
Were yet discreet and cautious in their loves ;
Nor would attend to Cupid's wild commands,
Till cool reflection bade them join their hands:
When both were poor, they thought it argued ill
Of hasty love to make them poorer still;
Year after year, with savings long laid by,
Her frugal fancy cull'd the smaller ware,
They bought the future dwelling's full supply;
The weightier purchase ask'd her Reuben's care;
Together then their last year's gain they threw,
And lo! an auction'd bed, with curtains neat and

new.

"But ever frowns your Hymen? man and maid, Thus both, as prudence counsell'd, wisely, stay'd,

Are all repenting, suffering, or betray'd?"
Forbid it, Love! we have our couples here
Who hail, the day in each revolving year :
These are with us, as in the world around ;
They are not frequent, but they may be found.
Our farmers too, what though they fail to prove,
In Hymen's bonds, the tenderest slaves of love,
(Nor, like those pairs whom sentiment unites,
Feel they the fervour of the mind's delights ;)
Yet coarsely kind and comfortably gay,.
'They heap the board and hail the happy day:
And though the bride, now freed from school, admits,
Of pride implanted there, some transient fits;
Yet soon she casts her girlish flights aside,
And in substantial blessings rests her pride.
No more she moves in measured steps, no more
Runs, with bewilder'd'ear, her music o'er;
No more recites her French the hinds among,
But chides her maidens in her mother-tongue;
Her tambour-frame she leaves and diet spare,
Plain work and plenty with her house to share;

?

And cheerful then the calls of Love obey'd:
What if, when Rachel gave her hand, 't was one
Embrown'd by Winter's ice and Summer's sun?
What if, in Reuben's hair, the female eye
Usurping grey among the black could spy
What if, in both, life's bloomy flush was lost,
And their full autumn felt the mellowing frost?
Yet time, who blow'd the rose of youth away,
Had left the vigorous stem without decay;
Like those tall elms, in Farmer Frankford's ground,
They'll grow no more, but all their growth is
sound;

By time confirm'd and rooted in the land,
The storms they 've stood still promise they shall
stand.

These are the happier pairs, their life has rest,
Their hopes are strong, their humble portion bless'd;
While those more rash to hasty marriage led,
Lament th' impatiencé which now stints their bread:

* Spenser

When such their union, years their cares increase, | While, through each year, as health and strength
Their love grows colder, and their pleasures cease
In health just fed, in sickness just relieved;
By hardships harass'd and by children grieved;
In petty quarrels and in peevish strife,

1

what purpose? answered-Old Collett of the What I behold are feverish fits of strife, Inn, an instance of Dr. Young's slow-sudden 'T wixt fears of dying and desire of life: Death: his Character and Conduct-The Man- Those earthly hopes, that to the last endure; ners and Management of the widow Goe: her Those fears, that hopes superior fail to cure; successful Attention to Business: her Decease At best a sad submission to the doom, unexpected - The Infant-boy of Gerard Ablett Which, turning from the danger, lets it come. dies: Reflections on his death, and the Survivor Sick lies the man, bewilder'd, lost, afraid,

his Sister-Twin-The funeral of the deceased His spirits vanquish'd, and his strength decay'd; Lady of the Manor described her neglected No hope the friend, the nurse, the doctor lendwhich her monument will hereafter display A priest is call'd; 't is now, alas! too late, "Call then a priest, and fit him for his end."

Mansion: Undertaker and Train: the Character

Death enters with him at the cottage-gate;
The self-commanding, all-confiding mind;
Or time allow'd, he goes, assured to find
And sighs to hear, what we may justly call
Death's common-place, the train of thought in all

Burial of an ancient Maiden: some former drawback on her Virgin-fame: Description of her House and Household: Her Manners, Apprehensions, Death-Isaac Ashford, a virtuous Peasant, dies: his manly Character: Reluctance to enter the Poor-House; and why- Misfortune “True, I'm a sinner," feebly he begins, and Derangement of Intellect in Robin Dingley: whence they proceeded: he is not restrained by "But trust in Mercy to forgive my sins:" Misery from a wandering life.: his various re- (Such cool confession no past crimes excite! turns to his Parish: his final Return-Wife of Such claim on Mercy seems the sinner's right!) Farmer Frankford dies in Prime of Life: Afflic- "I know, mankind are frail, that God is just, tion in Consequence of such Death: melancholy And pardons those who in his mercy trust; view of her House, etc. on her Family's Return We're sorely tempted in a world like this, from her funeral: Address to Sorrow-Leah All men have done, and I like all, amiss; Cousins, a midwife: her Character; and suc- But now, if spared, it is my full intent cessful Practice: at length opposed by Doctor On all the past to ponder and repent: Glibb: Opposition in the Parish: Argument of Wrongs against me I pardon great and, small, the Doctor; of Leah : her Failure and Decease-And if I die I die in peace with all." Burial of Roger Cuff, a Sailor: his Enmity to His merits thus and not his sins confess'd, his Family; how it originated: his Experiment He speaks his hopes, and leaves to Heaven the rest and its Consequence-The Register terminates Alas! are these the prospects, dull and cold, A Bell heard Inquiry for whom? The Sexton-That dying Christians to their priests unfold? Character of old Dibble, and the five Rectors Or mend the prospect when th' enthusiast cries, whom he served-Reflections-Conclusion. "I die assured!" and in a rapture dies?

THERE was, 't is said, and I believe, a time,
When humble Christians died with views sublime;
When all were ready for their faith to bleed,
But few to write or wrangle for their creed;
When lively faith upheld the sinking heart,
And friends, assured to meet, prepared to part;
When Love felt hope, when sorrow grew serene,
And all was comfort in the death-bed scene.

Alas! when nory the gloomy king they wait,
'Tis weakness yielding to resistless fate;
Like wretched men upon the ocean cast,
They labour hard and struggle to the last;
"Hope against hope," and wildly gaze around,
In search of help that never shall be found:
Nor, till the last strong billow stops the breath,
Will they believe them in the jaws of Death!

When these my records I reflecting read,
And find what ills these numerous births succeed;
What powerful griefs these nuptial ties attend,
With what regret these painful journeys end :
When from the cradle to the grave I look,
Mine I conceive a melancholy book.

Where now is perfect resignation seen?
Alas! it is nut on the village green :
I've seldom known, though I have often read
Of happy peasants on their dying-bed;
Whose looks proclaim'd that sunshine of the breast,
'That more than hope, that Heaven itself express'd.

Ah, where that humble, self-abasing mind,
With that confiding spirit, shall we find;
The mind that, feeling what repentance brings,
Dejection's terror and Contrition's stings,
Feels then the hope, that mounts all care above,
And the pure joy that flows from pardoning love?

Such have I seen in death, and much deplore,
So many dying-that I see no more:
Lo now my records, where I grieve to trace,
How Death has triumph'd in so short a space;
Who are the dead, how died they, I relate,
And snatch some portion of their acts from fate.

With Andrew Collett we the year begin,
The blind, fat landlord of the Old Crown Inn,-
Big as his butt, and, for the self same use,
To take in stores of strong fermenting juice.
On his huge chair beside the fire he sate,
In revel chief, and umpire in debate;
Each night his string of vulgar tales he told;
When ale was cheap and bachelors were bold:
His heroes all were famous in their days,
Cheats were his boast and drunkards had his praise
One, in three draughts, three mugs of ale took
down,

As mugs were then, the champion, of the Crown;
For thrice three days another lived on ale,
And knew no change but that of mild and stale;
Two thirsty soakers watch'd a vessel's side,
When he the tap, with dexterous hand, applied;
Nor from their seats departed, till they found
The butt was out, and heard the mournful sound."