Musing, he said—“So rich, and so addressed,What can I hope? be, foolish heart, at rest!Here fate has brought me—now, suppose I write,If but my Name, and leave it for her sight?”That instant sank the moon, and Godfrey cried:“So perish all my Views!” and deeply sighed;Then, with heroic Motion striding farAnd Voice of Valour—“Let us to the War!”But, as he sighed, he heard approaching feetBehind those trees so shady and so sweet;10Then, dimly seen, came on with Motion slowThat pair whose Hearts he most desired to know.The Lady’s Accent he remembered well;The Lover’s Name his Rival’s fears could spell.He shrank, disordered, to his hiding place;To be detected was for life disgrace.The best, the wisest, method he could takeWas, undisguised, a safe retreat to make;But some mix’d Motives, not defin’d with Ease,Led [him] behind the Phalanx of the trees.—20But who will pardon to an act extendSo full of Fear, so doubtful in the End?—Cautious he stood, this Hand upon the SwordThat on his Heart, and listened to each Word.Yes, you are good, and have in this complied;Be kinder yet, and now my Fate decide!Thought I, that months, nay years, attending stillCould soften that dear Heart or lead that will,Thro’ many an arduous Month and many a yearI would attend, adore, and persevere;30But thou, tho’ gentlest of the gentle Kind,Hast with the frankest heart the firmest Mind;Tho’ with that firmness true Compassion lives,And thy Heart murmurs at the Grief it gives.Then, when I view thee so unmov’d tho’ mild,Gentle yet just, my Judgment is beguil’d.Oh! could I see thee angry and, when teiz’d,Mov’d to resent—now sooth’d, and now displeas’d—I should have hope; for, as thy Anger rose,The Grief it caused thy Pity would compose.40Could I a weakness in thy Heart discern,Love there might enter and enjoy his turn;But, tho’ I seek thee early, leave thee late,}And all day long upon thy pleasure wait,}I find thee firm as Truth and fixed as Fate.}Yet, what forbids? my years beyond thy own}Are few, nor these in peevish Manners shewn;}My Title, fortune, friends and family are known.}These are not much; but I have more than these;Sure, love like mine and faithfulness might please.50Our Thoughts in all their Views appear to strikeOn the same Chords, and we have tastes alike—And shall we here alone the difference prove,And there be no Similitude in Love?“Would’st thou thy Sister call to Life, O takeMy Heart instead and what shall please thee make!If Time, Entreaty and thy friends, inclineThat Heart to love, I could insure thee mine;But, if that Heart have purpose fix’d and sure,And I must Coldness tho’ not scorn endure;60If something tell thee, ‘Heed not Fancy’s taleNor let her Visions o’er my Truth prevail’;If that dread something, call it what you will,Oppose me strongly and oppose me still:Be like thyself, be candid, and impartThyself the Tidings to a doubtful Heart;If Bliss await him, make thy Lover blest;If not, oh, give these doubts and Terrors rest!”“It grieves me much,” replied the gentle Maid,While Godfrey listened, of each Word afraid,70That I am urged those Motives to explainWhich safe Experience bids the Sex retain.What would my Friend? hast thou a Right to seeThe Heart’s fond folly, scarcely known to me?Say, is it friendly, is it kind to trace}The tender failings of an erring race,}In whom the faintest Speck is held Disgrace?}’Tis true I cannot with thy wish comply;But is it right that I should tell thee why,And to thy harder Sex make failings known80That I conceal with Caution from my own?“Then [hear]—and know I own thee for a friend;And my Confession thy Suspense shall end.Know then, I cannot from my breast expelA strong Impression fated there to dwell;Time but confirms it, and the pain it bringsProves that it lives, for it has life that stings.Ere yet my Father knew this Load of Wealth,And my lov’d Sisters shar’d my Views in Health,A Youth addressed me—I prefer’d him then;90But I was warn’d of the Designs of Men.His Views in Life were humble, he confest;But this * * *, nor could it be suppress’d.In him ’twas policy to win the Truth;And then I fear’d the fickle Soul of Youth.Yet, [though] rejected, he was ever near,And uninvited—let me own it, dear!My parents doubted; I was urged to proveThe Heart I valued, [ere] I own’d the love.My Sister only was his friend; she knew—100So love persuades—that one so brave was true;For he was brave and had in battle shownThat War and Danger had familiar grown.An Hero’s favourite Nymph the poet sings,But Heroes’ Widows are neglected Things.—Thus, while Affection shone with Fear, an HourArrived to prove his patience and my power.For an offence so trifling, that one dayHad swept the memory of the Crime away,In spleen, in spite, in folly I reprov’d110And banish’d from my Sight the Man I lov’d![His] purpos’d visit in the morn I knew,And bore in mind my purpos’d pardon too.‘’Tis a last trial,’ to my Heart I said;‘When [he returns], thy Will shall be obey’d.’Ah! my kind Friend, remember, in thy Woes,No Self-reproach forbids thy Soul repose!But I detain thee; would I had detain’dThe Man my Folly, but not solely, pain’d!Ere that return a sudden order bore120My Godfrey hence, and he return’d no more.Dear Suffering Youth, forgive me; I lament}A Man to Misery by my Humour sent;}Doomed to rude War, sore Wounds, and long Imprisonment!}How has he curs’d the fickle Mind! how longBrooded in Anguish o’er the causeless Wrong!* * *—or now perhaps a foreign GraveHolds one so dear, so tender and so brave!Nay, give thy Pardon; did’st thou not imploreThe frank Confession? I will add no more.130Choose thou a virgin Heart, nor now beholdThis face of Calmness with a bosom cold—Cold to new Love and, while my Life shall last,Hopeless of Joy and dwelling in the past!Tho’ he returns not, justice bids me flyThy prayer; thy Hand ’tis Honour to deny;And oh! if yet I might my Visions trust,And he returns, Love, tell me to be just!”
Musing, he said—“So rich, and so addressed,What can I hope? be, foolish heart, at rest!Here fate has brought me—now, suppose I write,If but my Name, and leave it for her sight?”That instant sank the moon, and Godfrey cried:“So perish all my Views!” and deeply sighed;Then, with heroic Motion striding farAnd Voice of Valour—“Let us to the War!”But, as he sighed, he heard approaching feetBehind those trees so shady and so sweet;10Then, dimly seen, came on with Motion slowThat pair whose Hearts he most desired to know.The Lady’s Accent he remembered well;The Lover’s Name his Rival’s fears could spell.He shrank, disordered, to his hiding place;To be detected was for life disgrace.The best, the wisest, method he could takeWas, undisguised, a safe retreat to make;But some mix’d Motives, not defin’d with Ease,Led [him] behind the Phalanx of the trees.—20But who will pardon to an act extendSo full of Fear, so doubtful in the End?—Cautious he stood, this Hand upon the SwordThat on his Heart, and listened to each Word.Yes, you are good, and have in this complied;Be kinder yet, and now my Fate decide!Thought I, that months, nay years, attending stillCould soften that dear Heart or lead that will,Thro’ many an arduous Month and many a yearI would attend, adore, and persevere;30But thou, tho’ gentlest of the gentle Kind,Hast with the frankest heart the firmest Mind;Tho’ with that firmness true Compassion lives,And thy Heart murmurs at the Grief it gives.Then, when I view thee so unmov’d tho’ mild,Gentle yet just, my Judgment is beguil’d.Oh! could I see thee angry and, when teiz’d,Mov’d to resent—now sooth’d, and now displeas’d—I should have hope; for, as thy Anger rose,The Grief it caused thy Pity would compose.40Could I a weakness in thy Heart discern,Love there might enter and enjoy his turn;But, tho’ I seek thee early, leave thee late,}And all day long upon thy pleasure wait,}I find thee firm as Truth and fixed as Fate.}Yet, what forbids? my years beyond thy own}Are few, nor these in peevish Manners shewn;}My Title, fortune, friends and family are known.}These are not much; but I have more than these;Sure, love like mine and faithfulness might please.50Our Thoughts in all their Views appear to strikeOn the same Chords, and we have tastes alike—And shall we here alone the difference prove,And there be no Similitude in Love?“Would’st thou thy Sister call to Life, O takeMy Heart instead and what shall please thee make!If Time, Entreaty and thy friends, inclineThat Heart to love, I could insure thee mine;But, if that Heart have purpose fix’d and sure,And I must Coldness tho’ not scorn endure;60If something tell thee, ‘Heed not Fancy’s taleNor let her Visions o’er my Truth prevail’;If that dread something, call it what you will,Oppose me strongly and oppose me still:Be like thyself, be candid, and impartThyself the Tidings to a doubtful Heart;If Bliss await him, make thy Lover blest;If not, oh, give these doubts and Terrors rest!”“It grieves me much,” replied the gentle Maid,While Godfrey listened, of each Word afraid,70That I am urged those Motives to explainWhich safe Experience bids the Sex retain.What would my Friend? hast thou a Right to seeThe Heart’s fond folly, scarcely known to me?Say, is it friendly, is it kind to trace}The tender failings of an erring race,}In whom the faintest Speck is held Disgrace?}’Tis true I cannot with thy wish comply;But is it right that I should tell thee why,And to thy harder Sex make failings known80That I conceal with Caution from my own?“Then [hear]—and know I own thee for a friend;And my Confession thy Suspense shall end.Know then, I cannot from my breast expelA strong Impression fated there to dwell;Time but confirms it, and the pain it bringsProves that it lives, for it has life that stings.Ere yet my Father knew this Load of Wealth,And my lov’d Sisters shar’d my Views in Health,A Youth addressed me—I prefer’d him then;90But I was warn’d of the Designs of Men.His Views in Life were humble, he confest;But this * * *, nor could it be suppress’d.In him ’twas policy to win the Truth;And then I fear’d the fickle Soul of Youth.Yet, [though] rejected, he was ever near,And uninvited—let me own it, dear!My parents doubted; I was urged to proveThe Heart I valued, [ere] I own’d the love.My Sister only was his friend; she knew—100So love persuades—that one so brave was true;For he was brave and had in battle shownThat War and Danger had familiar grown.An Hero’s favourite Nymph the poet sings,But Heroes’ Widows are neglected Things.—Thus, while Affection shone with Fear, an HourArrived to prove his patience and my power.For an offence so trifling, that one dayHad swept the memory of the Crime away,In spleen, in spite, in folly I reprov’d110And banish’d from my Sight the Man I lov’d![His] purpos’d visit in the morn I knew,And bore in mind my purpos’d pardon too.‘’Tis a last trial,’ to my Heart I said;‘When [he returns], thy Will shall be obey’d.’Ah! my kind Friend, remember, in thy Woes,No Self-reproach forbids thy Soul repose!But I detain thee; would I had detain’dThe Man my Folly, but not solely, pain’d!Ere that return a sudden order bore120My Godfrey hence, and he return’d no more.Dear Suffering Youth, forgive me; I lament}A Man to Misery by my Humour sent;}Doomed to rude War, sore Wounds, and long Imprisonment!}How has he curs’d the fickle Mind! how longBrooded in Anguish o’er the causeless Wrong!* * *—or now perhaps a foreign GraveHolds one so dear, so tender and so brave!Nay, give thy Pardon; did’st thou not imploreThe frank Confession? I will add no more.130Choose thou a virgin Heart, nor now beholdThis face of Calmness with a bosom cold—Cold to new Love and, while my Life shall last,Hopeless of Joy and dwelling in the past!Tho’ he returns not, justice bids me flyThy prayer; thy Hand ’tis Honour to deny;And oh! if yet I might my Visions trust,And he returns, Love, tell me to be just!”
Musing, he said—“So rich, and so addressed,What can I hope? be, foolish heart, at rest!Here fate has brought me—now, suppose I write,If but my Name, and leave it for her sight?”That instant sank the moon, and Godfrey cried:“So perish all my Views!” and deeply sighed;Then, with heroic Motion striding farAnd Voice of Valour—“Let us to the War!”But, as he sighed, he heard approaching feetBehind those trees so shady and so sweet;10Then, dimly seen, came on with Motion slowThat pair whose Hearts he most desired to know.The Lady’s Accent he remembered well;The Lover’s Name his Rival’s fears could spell.He shrank, disordered, to his hiding place;To be detected was for life disgrace.The best, the wisest, method he could takeWas, undisguised, a safe retreat to make;But some mix’d Motives, not defin’d with Ease,Led [him] behind the Phalanx of the trees.—20But who will pardon to an act extendSo full of Fear, so doubtful in the End?—Cautious he stood, this Hand upon the SwordThat on his Heart, and listened to each Word.Yes, you are good, and have in this complied;Be kinder yet, and now my Fate decide!Thought I, that months, nay years, attending stillCould soften that dear Heart or lead that will,Thro’ many an arduous Month and many a yearI would attend, adore, and persevere;30But thou, tho’ gentlest of the gentle Kind,Hast with the frankest heart the firmest Mind;Tho’ with that firmness true Compassion lives,And thy Heart murmurs at the Grief it gives.Then, when I view thee so unmov’d tho’ mild,Gentle yet just, my Judgment is beguil’d.Oh! could I see thee angry and, when teiz’d,Mov’d to resent—now sooth’d, and now displeas’d—I should have hope; for, as thy Anger rose,The Grief it caused thy Pity would compose.40Could I a weakness in thy Heart discern,Love there might enter and enjoy his turn;But, tho’ I seek thee early, leave thee late,}And all day long upon thy pleasure wait,}I find thee firm as Truth and fixed as Fate.}Yet, what forbids? my years beyond thy own}Are few, nor these in peevish Manners shewn;}My Title, fortune, friends and family are known.}These are not much; but I have more than these;Sure, love like mine and faithfulness might please.50Our Thoughts in all their Views appear to strikeOn the same Chords, and we have tastes alike—And shall we here alone the difference prove,And there be no Similitude in Love?“Would’st thou thy Sister call to Life, O takeMy Heart instead and what shall please thee make!If Time, Entreaty and thy friends, inclineThat Heart to love, I could insure thee mine;But, if that Heart have purpose fix’d and sure,And I must Coldness tho’ not scorn endure;60If something tell thee, ‘Heed not Fancy’s taleNor let her Visions o’er my Truth prevail’;If that dread something, call it what you will,Oppose me strongly and oppose me still:Be like thyself, be candid, and impartThyself the Tidings to a doubtful Heart;If Bliss await him, make thy Lover blest;If not, oh, give these doubts and Terrors rest!”“It grieves me much,” replied the gentle Maid,While Godfrey listened, of each Word afraid,70That I am urged those Motives to explainWhich safe Experience bids the Sex retain.What would my Friend? hast thou a Right to seeThe Heart’s fond folly, scarcely known to me?Say, is it friendly, is it kind to trace}The tender failings of an erring race,}In whom the faintest Speck is held Disgrace?}’Tis true I cannot with thy wish comply;But is it right that I should tell thee why,And to thy harder Sex make failings known80That I conceal with Caution from my own?“Then [hear]—and know I own thee for a friend;And my Confession thy Suspense shall end.Know then, I cannot from my breast expelA strong Impression fated there to dwell;Time but confirms it, and the pain it bringsProves that it lives, for it has life that stings.Ere yet my Father knew this Load of Wealth,And my lov’d Sisters shar’d my Views in Health,A Youth addressed me—I prefer’d him then;90But I was warn’d of the Designs of Men.His Views in Life were humble, he confest;But this * * *, nor could it be suppress’d.In him ’twas policy to win the Truth;And then I fear’d the fickle Soul of Youth.Yet, [though] rejected, he was ever near,And uninvited—let me own it, dear!My parents doubted; I was urged to proveThe Heart I valued, [ere] I own’d the love.My Sister only was his friend; she knew—100So love persuades—that one so brave was true;For he was brave and had in battle shownThat War and Danger had familiar grown.An Hero’s favourite Nymph the poet sings,But Heroes’ Widows are neglected Things.—Thus, while Affection shone with Fear, an HourArrived to prove his patience and my power.For an offence so trifling, that one dayHad swept the memory of the Crime away,In spleen, in spite, in folly I reprov’d110And banish’d from my Sight the Man I lov’d![His] purpos’d visit in the morn I knew,And bore in mind my purpos’d pardon too.‘’Tis a last trial,’ to my Heart I said;‘When [he returns], thy Will shall be obey’d.’Ah! my kind Friend, remember, in thy Woes,No Self-reproach forbids thy Soul repose!But I detain thee; would I had detain’dThe Man my Folly, but not solely, pain’d!Ere that return a sudden order bore120My Godfrey hence, and he return’d no more.Dear Suffering Youth, forgive me; I lament}A Man to Misery by my Humour sent;}Doomed to rude War, sore Wounds, and long Imprisonment!}How has he curs’d the fickle Mind! how longBrooded in Anguish o’er the causeless Wrong!* * *—or now perhaps a foreign GraveHolds one so dear, so tender and so brave!Nay, give thy Pardon; did’st thou not imploreThe frank Confession? I will add no more.130Choose thou a virgin Heart, nor now beholdThis face of Calmness with a bosom cold—Cold to new Love and, while my Life shall last,Hopeless of Joy and dwelling in the past!Tho’ he returns not, justice bids me flyThy prayer; thy Hand ’tis Honour to deny;And oh! if yet I might my Visions trust,And he returns, Love, tell me to be just!”
Musing, he said—“So rich, and so addressed,
What can I hope? be, foolish heart, at rest!
Here fate has brought me—now, suppose I write,
If but my Name, and leave it for her sight?”
That instant sank the moon, and Godfrey cried:
“So perish all my Views!” and deeply sighed;
Then, with heroic Motion striding far
And Voice of Valour—“Let us to the War!”
But, as he sighed, he heard approaching feet
Behind those trees so shady and so sweet;10
Then, dimly seen, came on with Motion slow
That pair whose Hearts he most desired to know.
The Lady’s Accent he remembered well;
The Lover’s Name his Rival’s fears could spell.
He shrank, disordered, to his hiding place;
To be detected was for life disgrace.
The best, the wisest, method he could take
Was, undisguised, a safe retreat to make;
But some mix’d Motives, not defin’d with Ease,
Led [him] behind the Phalanx of the trees.—20
But who will pardon to an act extend
So full of Fear, so doubtful in the End?—
Cautious he stood, this Hand upon the Sword
That on his Heart, and listened to each Word.
Yes, you are good, and have in this complied;
Be kinder yet, and now my Fate decide!
Thought I, that months, nay years, attending still
Could soften that dear Heart or lead that will,
Thro’ many an arduous Month and many a year
I would attend, adore, and persevere;30
But thou, tho’ gentlest of the gentle Kind,
Hast with the frankest heart the firmest Mind;
Tho’ with that firmness true Compassion lives,
And thy Heart murmurs at the Grief it gives.
Then, when I view thee so unmov’d tho’ mild,
Gentle yet just, my Judgment is beguil’d.
Oh! could I see thee angry and, when teiz’d,
Mov’d to resent—now sooth’d, and now displeas’d—
I should have hope; for, as thy Anger rose,
The Grief it caused thy Pity would compose.40
Could I a weakness in thy Heart discern,
Love there might enter and enjoy his turn;
But, tho’ I seek thee early, leave thee late,}
And all day long upon thy pleasure wait,}
I find thee firm as Truth and fixed as Fate.}
Yet, what forbids? my years beyond thy own}
Are few, nor these in peevish Manners shewn;}
My Title, fortune, friends and family are known.}
These are not much; but I have more than these;
Sure, love like mine and faithfulness might please.50
Our Thoughts in all their Views appear to strike
On the same Chords, and we have tastes alike—
And shall we here alone the difference prove,
And there be no Similitude in Love?
“Would’st thou thy Sister call to Life, O take
My Heart instead and what shall please thee make!
If Time, Entreaty and thy friends, incline
That Heart to love, I could insure thee mine;
But, if that Heart have purpose fix’d and sure,
And I must Coldness tho’ not scorn endure;60
If something tell thee, ‘Heed not Fancy’s tale
Nor let her Visions o’er my Truth prevail’;
If that dread something, call it what you will,
Oppose me strongly and oppose me still:
Be like thyself, be candid, and impart
Thyself the Tidings to a doubtful Heart;
If Bliss await him, make thy Lover blest;
If not, oh, give these doubts and Terrors rest!”
“It grieves me much,” replied the gentle Maid,
While Godfrey listened, of each Word afraid,70
That I am urged those Motives to explain
Which safe Experience bids the Sex retain.
What would my Friend? hast thou a Right to see
The Heart’s fond folly, scarcely known to me?
Say, is it friendly, is it kind to trace}
The tender failings of an erring race,}
In whom the faintest Speck is held Disgrace?}
’Tis true I cannot with thy wish comply;
But is it right that I should tell thee why,
And to thy harder Sex make failings known80
That I conceal with Caution from my own?
“Then [hear]—and know I own thee for a friend;
And my Confession thy Suspense shall end.
Know then, I cannot from my breast expel
A strong Impression fated there to dwell;
Time but confirms it, and the pain it brings
Proves that it lives, for it has life that stings.
Ere yet my Father knew this Load of Wealth,
And my lov’d Sisters shar’d my Views in Health,
A Youth addressed me—I prefer’d him then;90
But I was warn’d of the Designs of Men.
His Views in Life were humble, he confest;
But this * * *, nor could it be suppress’d.
In him ’twas policy to win the Truth;
And then I fear’d the fickle Soul of Youth.
Yet, [though] rejected, he was ever near,
And uninvited—let me own it, dear!
My parents doubted; I was urged to prove
The Heart I valued, [ere] I own’d the love.
My Sister only was his friend; she knew—100
So love persuades—that one so brave was true;
For he was brave and had in battle shown
That War and Danger had familiar grown.
An Hero’s favourite Nymph the poet sings,
But Heroes’ Widows are neglected Things.—
Thus, while Affection shone with Fear, an Hour
Arrived to prove his patience and my power.
For an offence so trifling, that one day
Had swept the memory of the Crime away,
In spleen, in spite, in folly I reprov’d110
And banish’d from my Sight the Man I lov’d!
[His] purpos’d visit in the morn I knew,
And bore in mind my purpos’d pardon too.
‘’Tis a last trial,’ to my Heart I said;
‘When [he returns], thy Will shall be obey’d.’
Ah! my kind Friend, remember, in thy Woes,
No Self-reproach forbids thy Soul repose!
But I detain thee; would I had detain’d
The Man my Folly, but not solely, pain’d!
Ere that return a sudden order bore120
My Godfrey hence, and he return’d no more.
Dear Suffering Youth, forgive me; I lament}
A Man to Misery by my Humour sent;}
Doomed to rude War, sore Wounds, and long Imprisonment!}
How has he curs’d the fickle Mind! how long
Brooded in Anguish o’er the causeless Wrong!
* * *—or now perhaps a foreign Grave
Holds one so dear, so tender and so brave!
Nay, give thy Pardon; did’st thou not implore
The frank Confession? I will add no more.130
Choose thou a virgin Heart, nor now behold
This face of Calmness with a bosom cold—
Cold to new Love and, while my Life shall last,
Hopeless of Joy and dwelling in the past!
Tho’ he returns not, justice bids me fly
Thy prayer; thy Hand ’tis Honour to deny;
And oh! if yet I might my Visions trust,
And he returns, Love, tell me to be just!”
THE AMOURS OF G[EORGE].
“Brother, what tho’ thy mind is strong,And thou art classed the wise among,Yet in thy earlier Life did’st thouTo Love’s imperious Godhead bow,And [worshipp’dst] ardently in TruthThe Idol of thy giddy youth.”G.“I read Romances, Joseph, then,And wrote with a poetic Pen;I chose in lonely walks to tread,And held my Converse with the Dead.10I built me Castles rich and fair,And shut in Wealth and Virtue there,With Bliss that nowhere else will grow,And Fame not realized below,And power that none should dare contest,And Beauty none beside possess’d;With all that Fancy ever gaveTo Man who would his Miseries brave.My Form was slender; I was tall,And awkward were my Motions all;20Nor was a Form indebted lessTo Fashion, Manner, Grace or Dress.This Form was not for Love designed,But he intirely ruled the Mind;And, as I felt that I should proveA most obedient Slave to Love,So did I judge that he should beA most propitious God to me:To give to me the gentlest HeartThat ever felt his keenest Dart,30Or that inspired the sweetest Look,Or kindly in the features spoke.“Possessed of Fancies vain and proudI spurned the male and female Crowd,And hoped in some auspicious HourIn some May Morn, in some green Bower,Where I should soothe my dream of Grief,To meet the Lady of the Leaf;Her Love and Favour to imploreAnd be her Knight for evermore.40But let me raise my Style, and tellWhat in my Vision me befell.“One day I mus’d beside a Wood,As I had often done before,And [seemed] so rich and brave and goodAs never Man was made before.A green Inclosure was beside,And, not far distant on the Hill,A noble Seat, our County’s Pride,Built with abundant Care and Skill;50And thence had issued Ladies fairAnd walked within the Place below,But the green Wood conceal’d the pairFrom me, who walking felt the GlowOf all the Vanity and prideThat push’d the intruding World aside.And now, while thus enwrap’d and fedWith thoughts that self indulgence bred,I heard a Shriek so long and loudThat prov’d the Shriekers were not proud,60But would accept the meanest AidThat ever succour’d folk afraid.“For so it was: that pair divineWere met by some rebellious Kine,Who, in their stubborn Pride and Scorn,With surly Hoof and threat’ning HornUsurp’d the Path, and, as the MaidsDrew near, and [would have] sought its Shades,[Ere] they could reach the guarding Wood,Some surly Beast their Way withstood.70And hence the dismal Shriek that drewMy Eyes, and asked my Action too;As Justness prompted, forth I ranResolv’d to show myself a Man;And, plucking forth an oaken Bough,I ran like Guy to fight the Cow,And, like a valiant Champion, fixedMyself the Maids and Cows betwixt.And, tho’ I had not breath to say,‘Run, Ladies, for the Stile away!’80Yet doubtless, with a warlike Grace,My hand was pointed to the Place.“The Ladies took me at my Word,And each flew lightly like a Bird.I now had time my thoughts t’ arrangeAnd should have liked my place to change;For now the Creatures seemed disposedFor Battle, and in Order closed;And, tho’ they halted, yet I foundMy feet upon precarious Ground;90And yet, to turn me and retreatWas not alone to own Defeat,But to invite th’ encouraged FoeTo fell pursuit and overthrow.“The Ladies, who had pass’d the Stile,Looked on impatiently the while;And were amazed, for so they said,To see the horrid Cows afraid,And kept in coward fear by oneWho had for them such Service done.100“Which had the Victory, Man or Cow,Can never be determined now.For lo! some amazons appear’d,Resolv’d to milk the stubborn Herd;Who, as they now obedient grew,Left me my purpose to pursue—A purpose that I could not wellDistinguish, nor can fairly tell.“The [quicker] Nymph with gracious SmileReceived me safe beyond the Stile;110Where I had time to feast my EyesOn paradise and prodigies—Charms, such as Nature once creates,Then breaks the Mould (the Lover states).But this, dear Joseph, was a FaceI could not from my fancy chase,Was more than I had dreamed, was more}Than Fancy drew for me before,}And bade me my own Work adore.}But let me not on Beauty dwell:120The trace became indelible.”
“Brother, what tho’ thy mind is strong,And thou art classed the wise among,Yet in thy earlier Life did’st thouTo Love’s imperious Godhead bow,And [worshipp’dst] ardently in TruthThe Idol of thy giddy youth.”G.“I read Romances, Joseph, then,And wrote with a poetic Pen;I chose in lonely walks to tread,And held my Converse with the Dead.10I built me Castles rich and fair,And shut in Wealth and Virtue there,With Bliss that nowhere else will grow,And Fame not realized below,And power that none should dare contest,And Beauty none beside possess’d;With all that Fancy ever gaveTo Man who would his Miseries brave.My Form was slender; I was tall,And awkward were my Motions all;20Nor was a Form indebted lessTo Fashion, Manner, Grace or Dress.This Form was not for Love designed,But he intirely ruled the Mind;And, as I felt that I should proveA most obedient Slave to Love,So did I judge that he should beA most propitious God to me:To give to me the gentlest HeartThat ever felt his keenest Dart,30Or that inspired the sweetest Look,Or kindly in the features spoke.“Possessed of Fancies vain and proudI spurned the male and female Crowd,And hoped in some auspicious HourIn some May Morn, in some green Bower,Where I should soothe my dream of Grief,To meet the Lady of the Leaf;Her Love and Favour to imploreAnd be her Knight for evermore.40But let me raise my Style, and tellWhat in my Vision me befell.“One day I mus’d beside a Wood,As I had often done before,And [seemed] so rich and brave and goodAs never Man was made before.A green Inclosure was beside,And, not far distant on the Hill,A noble Seat, our County’s Pride,Built with abundant Care and Skill;50And thence had issued Ladies fairAnd walked within the Place below,But the green Wood conceal’d the pairFrom me, who walking felt the GlowOf all the Vanity and prideThat push’d the intruding World aside.And now, while thus enwrap’d and fedWith thoughts that self indulgence bred,I heard a Shriek so long and loudThat prov’d the Shriekers were not proud,60But would accept the meanest AidThat ever succour’d folk afraid.“For so it was: that pair divineWere met by some rebellious Kine,Who, in their stubborn Pride and Scorn,With surly Hoof and threat’ning HornUsurp’d the Path, and, as the MaidsDrew near, and [would have] sought its Shades,[Ere] they could reach the guarding Wood,Some surly Beast their Way withstood.70And hence the dismal Shriek that drewMy Eyes, and asked my Action too;As Justness prompted, forth I ranResolv’d to show myself a Man;And, plucking forth an oaken Bough,I ran like Guy to fight the Cow,And, like a valiant Champion, fixedMyself the Maids and Cows betwixt.And, tho’ I had not breath to say,‘Run, Ladies, for the Stile away!’80Yet doubtless, with a warlike Grace,My hand was pointed to the Place.“The Ladies took me at my Word,And each flew lightly like a Bird.I now had time my thoughts t’ arrangeAnd should have liked my place to change;For now the Creatures seemed disposedFor Battle, and in Order closed;And, tho’ they halted, yet I foundMy feet upon precarious Ground;90And yet, to turn me and retreatWas not alone to own Defeat,But to invite th’ encouraged FoeTo fell pursuit and overthrow.“The Ladies, who had pass’d the Stile,Looked on impatiently the while;And were amazed, for so they said,To see the horrid Cows afraid,And kept in coward fear by oneWho had for them such Service done.100“Which had the Victory, Man or Cow,Can never be determined now.For lo! some amazons appear’d,Resolv’d to milk the stubborn Herd;Who, as they now obedient grew,Left me my purpose to pursue—A purpose that I could not wellDistinguish, nor can fairly tell.“The [quicker] Nymph with gracious SmileReceived me safe beyond the Stile;110Where I had time to feast my EyesOn paradise and prodigies—Charms, such as Nature once creates,Then breaks the Mould (the Lover states).But this, dear Joseph, was a FaceI could not from my fancy chase,Was more than I had dreamed, was more}Than Fancy drew for me before,}And bade me my own Work adore.}But let me not on Beauty dwell:120The trace became indelible.”
“Brother, what tho’ thy mind is strong,And thou art classed the wise among,Yet in thy earlier Life did’st thouTo Love’s imperious Godhead bow,And [worshipp’dst] ardently in TruthThe Idol of thy giddy youth.”G.“I read Romances, Joseph, then,And wrote with a poetic Pen;I chose in lonely walks to tread,And held my Converse with the Dead.10I built me Castles rich and fair,And shut in Wealth and Virtue there,With Bliss that nowhere else will grow,And Fame not realized below,And power that none should dare contest,And Beauty none beside possess’d;With all that Fancy ever gaveTo Man who would his Miseries brave.My Form was slender; I was tall,And awkward were my Motions all;20Nor was a Form indebted lessTo Fashion, Manner, Grace or Dress.This Form was not for Love designed,But he intirely ruled the Mind;And, as I felt that I should proveA most obedient Slave to Love,So did I judge that he should beA most propitious God to me:To give to me the gentlest HeartThat ever felt his keenest Dart,30Or that inspired the sweetest Look,Or kindly in the features spoke.“Possessed of Fancies vain and proudI spurned the male and female Crowd,And hoped in some auspicious HourIn some May Morn, in some green Bower,Where I should soothe my dream of Grief,To meet the Lady of the Leaf;Her Love and Favour to imploreAnd be her Knight for evermore.40But let me raise my Style, and tellWhat in my Vision me befell.“One day I mus’d beside a Wood,As I had often done before,And [seemed] so rich and brave and goodAs never Man was made before.A green Inclosure was beside,And, not far distant on the Hill,A noble Seat, our County’s Pride,Built with abundant Care and Skill;50And thence had issued Ladies fairAnd walked within the Place below,But the green Wood conceal’d the pairFrom me, who walking felt the GlowOf all the Vanity and prideThat push’d the intruding World aside.And now, while thus enwrap’d and fedWith thoughts that self indulgence bred,I heard a Shriek so long and loudThat prov’d the Shriekers were not proud,60But would accept the meanest AidThat ever succour’d folk afraid.“For so it was: that pair divineWere met by some rebellious Kine,Who, in their stubborn Pride and Scorn,With surly Hoof and threat’ning HornUsurp’d the Path, and, as the MaidsDrew near, and [would have] sought its Shades,[Ere] they could reach the guarding Wood,Some surly Beast their Way withstood.70And hence the dismal Shriek that drewMy Eyes, and asked my Action too;As Justness prompted, forth I ranResolv’d to show myself a Man;And, plucking forth an oaken Bough,I ran like Guy to fight the Cow,And, like a valiant Champion, fixedMyself the Maids and Cows betwixt.And, tho’ I had not breath to say,‘Run, Ladies, for the Stile away!’80Yet doubtless, with a warlike Grace,My hand was pointed to the Place.“The Ladies took me at my Word,And each flew lightly like a Bird.I now had time my thoughts t’ arrangeAnd should have liked my place to change;For now the Creatures seemed disposedFor Battle, and in Order closed;And, tho’ they halted, yet I foundMy feet upon precarious Ground;90And yet, to turn me and retreatWas not alone to own Defeat,But to invite th’ encouraged FoeTo fell pursuit and overthrow.“The Ladies, who had pass’d the Stile,Looked on impatiently the while;And were amazed, for so they said,To see the horrid Cows afraid,And kept in coward fear by oneWho had for them such Service done.100“Which had the Victory, Man or Cow,Can never be determined now.For lo! some amazons appear’d,Resolv’d to milk the stubborn Herd;Who, as they now obedient grew,Left me my purpose to pursue—A purpose that I could not wellDistinguish, nor can fairly tell.“The [quicker] Nymph with gracious SmileReceived me safe beyond the Stile;110Where I had time to feast my EyesOn paradise and prodigies—Charms, such as Nature once creates,Then breaks the Mould (the Lover states).But this, dear Joseph, was a FaceI could not from my fancy chase,Was more than I had dreamed, was more}Than Fancy drew for me before,}And bade me my own Work adore.}But let me not on Beauty dwell:120The trace became indelible.”
“Brother, what tho’ thy mind is strong,
And thou art classed the wise among,
Yet in thy earlier Life did’st thou
To Love’s imperious Godhead bow,
And [worshipp’dst] ardently in Truth
The Idol of thy giddy youth.”
G.“I read Romances, Joseph, then,
And wrote with a poetic Pen;
I chose in lonely walks to tread,
And held my Converse with the Dead.10
I built me Castles rich and fair,
And shut in Wealth and Virtue there,
With Bliss that nowhere else will grow,
And Fame not realized below,
And power that none should dare contest,
And Beauty none beside possess’d;
With all that Fancy ever gave
To Man who would his Miseries brave.
My Form was slender; I was tall,
And awkward were my Motions all;20
Nor was a Form indebted less
To Fashion, Manner, Grace or Dress.
This Form was not for Love designed,
But he intirely ruled the Mind;
And, as I felt that I should prove
A most obedient Slave to Love,
So did I judge that he should be
A most propitious God to me:
To give to me the gentlest Heart
That ever felt his keenest Dart,30
Or that inspired the sweetest Look,
Or kindly in the features spoke.
“Possessed of Fancies vain and proud
I spurned the male and female Crowd,
And hoped in some auspicious Hour
In some May Morn, in some green Bower,
Where I should soothe my dream of Grief,
To meet the Lady of the Leaf;
Her Love and Favour to implore
And be her Knight for evermore.40
But let me raise my Style, and tell
What in my Vision me befell.
“One day I mus’d beside a Wood,
As I had often done before,
And [seemed] so rich and brave and good
As never Man was made before.
A green Inclosure was beside,
And, not far distant on the Hill,
A noble Seat, our County’s Pride,
Built with abundant Care and Skill;50
And thence had issued Ladies fair
And walked within the Place below,
But the green Wood conceal’d the pair
From me, who walking felt the Glow
Of all the Vanity and pride
That push’d the intruding World aside.
And now, while thus enwrap’d and fed
With thoughts that self indulgence bred,
I heard a Shriek so long and loud
That prov’d the Shriekers were not proud,60
But would accept the meanest Aid
That ever succour’d folk afraid.
“For so it was: that pair divine
Were met by some rebellious Kine,
Who, in their stubborn Pride and Scorn,
With surly Hoof and threat’ning Horn
Usurp’d the Path, and, as the Maids
Drew near, and [would have] sought its Shades,
[Ere] they could reach the guarding Wood,
Some surly Beast their Way withstood.70
And hence the dismal Shriek that drew
My Eyes, and asked my Action too;
As Justness prompted, forth I ran
Resolv’d to show myself a Man;
And, plucking forth an oaken Bough,
I ran like Guy to fight the Cow,
And, like a valiant Champion, fixed
Myself the Maids and Cows betwixt.
And, tho’ I had not breath to say,
‘Run, Ladies, for the Stile away!’80
Yet doubtless, with a warlike Grace,
My hand was pointed to the Place.
“The Ladies took me at my Word,
And each flew lightly like a Bird.
I now had time my thoughts t’ arrange
And should have liked my place to change;
For now the Creatures seemed disposed
For Battle, and in Order closed;
And, tho’ they halted, yet I found
My feet upon precarious Ground;90
And yet, to turn me and retreat
Was not alone to own Defeat,
But to invite th’ encouraged Foe
To fell pursuit and overthrow.
“The Ladies, who had pass’d the Stile,
Looked on impatiently the while;
And were amazed, for so they said,
To see the horrid Cows afraid,
And kept in coward fear by one
Who had for them such Service done.100
“Which had the Victory, Man or Cow,
Can never be determined now.
For lo! some amazons appear’d,
Resolv’d to milk the stubborn Herd;
Who, as they now obedient grew,
Left me my purpose to pursue—
A purpose that I could not well
Distinguish, nor can fairly tell.
“The [quicker] Nymph with gracious Smile
Received me safe beyond the Stile;110
Where I had time to feast my Eyes
On paradise and prodigies—
Charms, such as Nature once creates,
Then breaks the Mould (the Lover states).
But this, dear Joseph, was a Face
I could not from my fancy chase,
Was more than I had dreamed, was more}
Than Fancy drew for me before,}
And bade me my own Work adore.}
But let me not on Beauty dwell:120
The trace became indelible.”