With strong desire of lawful gain embued;
To all he said, she bow’d with much respect,
Pleased to comply, yet seeming to reject;
Cool and yet eager, each admired the strength
Of the opponent, and agreed at length:
As a drawn battle shows to each a force,
Powerful as his, he honours it of course;
So in these neighbours, each the power discern’d,
And gave the praise that was to each return’d.
Jonas now ask’d his daughter - and the Aunt,
Though loth to lose her, was obliged to grant: -
But would not Sybil to the matron cling,
And fear to leave the shelter of her wing?
No! in the young there lives a love of change,
And to the easy they prefer the strange!
Then, too, the joys she once pursued with zeal,
From whist and visits sprung, she ceased to feel:
When with the matrons Sybil first sat down,
To cut for partners and to stake her crown,
This to the youthful maid preferment seem’d,
Who thought what woman she was then esteem’d;
But in few years, when she perceived, indeed,
The real woman to the girl succeed,
No longer tricks and honours fill’d her mind,
But other feelings, not so well defined;
She then reluctant grew, and thought it hard
To sit and ponder o’er an ugly card;
Rather the nut-tree shade the nymph preferr’d,
Pleased with the pensive gloom and evening bird;
Thither, from company retired, she took
The silent walk, or read the fav’rite book.
The father’s letter, sudden, short, and kind,
Awaked her wonder, and disturb’d her mind;
She found new dreams upon her fancy seize,
Wild roving thoughts and endless reveries.
The parting came; - and when the Aunt perceived
The tears of Sybil, and how much she grieved -
To love for her that tender grief she laid,
That various, soft, contending passions made.
When Sybil rested in her father’s arms,
His pride exulted in a daughter’s charms;
A maid accomplish’d he was pleased to find,
Nor seem’d the form more lovely than the mind:
But when the fit of pride and fondness fled,
He saw his judgment by his hopes misled;
High were the lady’s spirits, far more free
Her mode of speaking than a maid’s should be;
Too much, as Jonas thought, she seem’d to know,
And all her knowledge was disposed to show;
“Too gay her dress, like theirs who idly dote
On a young coxcomb or a coxcomb’s coat;
In foolish spirits when our friends appear,
And vainly grave when not a man is near.”
Thus Jonas, adding to his sorrow blame,
And terms disdainful to a Sister’s name:
“The sinful wretch has by her arts denied
The ductile spirit of my darling child.”
“The maid is virtuous,” said the dame - Quoth he,
“Let her give proof, by acting virtuously:
Is it in gaping when the Elders pray?
In reading nonsense half a summer’s day?
In those mock forms that she delights to trace,
Or her loud laughs in Hezekiah’s face?
She - O Susannah! - to the world belongs;
She loves the follies of its idle throngs,
And reads soft tales of love, and sings love’s soft’ning songs.
But, as our friend is yet delay’d in town,
We must prepare her till the Youth comes down:
You shall advise the maiden; I will threat;
Her fears and hopes may yield us comfort yet.”
Now the grave father took the lass aside,
Demanding sternly, “Wilt thou be a bride?”
She answer’d, calling up an air sedate,
“I have not vow’d against the holy state.”
“No folly, Sybil,” said the parent; “know
What to their parents virtuous maidens owe:
A worthy, wealthy youth, whom I approve,
Must thou prepare to honour and to love.
Formal to thee his air and dress may seem,
But the good youth is worthy of esteem:
Shouldst thou with rudeness treat him; of disdain
Should he with justice or of slight complain,
Or of one taunting speech give certain proof,
Girl! I reject thee from my sober roof.”
“My aunt,” said Sybil,” will with pride protect
One whom a father can for this reject;
Nor shall a formal, rigid, soul-less boy
My manners alter, or my views destroy!”
Jonas then lifted up his hands on high,
And, utt’ring something ’twixt a groan and sigh,
Left the determined maid, her doubtful mother by.
“Hear me,” she said; “incline thy heart, my child,
And fix thy fancy on a man so mild:
Thy father, Sybil, never could be moved
By one who loved him, or by one he loved.
Union like ours is but a bargain made
By slave and tyrant - he will be obey’d;
Then calls the quiet, comfort - but thy Youth
Is mild by nature, and as frank as truth.”
“But will he love?” said Sybil; “I am told
That these mild creatures are by nature cold.”
“Alas!” the matron answer’d, “much I dread
That dangerous love by which the young are led!
That love is earthy; you the creature prize,
And trust your feelings and believe your eyes:
Can eyes and feelings inward worth descry?
No! my fair daughter, on our choice rely!
Your love, like that display’d upon the stage,
Indulged is folly, and opposed is rage; -
More prudent love our sober couples show,
All that to mortal beings, mortals owe;
All flesh is grass - before you give a heart,
Remember, Sybil, that in death you part;
And should your husband die before your love,
What needless anguish must a widow prove!
No! my fair child, let all such visions cease;
Yield but esteem, and only try for peace.”
“I must be loved,” said Sybil; “I must see
The man in terrors who aspires to me;
At my forbidding frown his heart must ache,
His tongue must falter, and his frame must shake:
And if I grant him at my feet to kneel,
What trembling, fearful pleasure must he feel;
Nay, such the raptures that my smiles inspire,
That reason’s self must for a time retire.”
“Alas! for good Josiah,” said the dame,
“These wicked thoughts would fill his soul with shame;
He kneel and tremble at a thing of dust!
He cannot, child:” - the Child replied, “He must.”
They ceased: the matron left her with a frown;
So Jonas met her when the Youth came down:
“Behold,” said he, “thy future spouse attends;
Receive him, daughter, as the best of friends;
Observe, respect him - humble be each word,
That welcomes home thy husband and thy lord.”
Forewarn’d, thought Sybil, with a bitter smile,
I shall prepare my manner and my style.
Ere yet Josiah enter’d on his task,
The father met him - “Deign to wear a mask
A few dull days, Josiah - but a few -
It is our duty, and the sex’s due;
I wore it once, and every grateful wife
Repays it with obedience through her life:
Have no regard to Sybil’s dress, have none
To her pert language, to her flippant tone:
Henceforward thou shalt rule unquestion’d and alone;
And she thy pleasure in thy looks shall seek -
How she shall dress, and whether she may speak.”
A sober smile returned the Youth, and said,
“Can I cause fear, who am myself afraid?”
Sybil, meantime, sat thoughtful in her room,
And often wonder’d - “Will the creature come?
Nothing shall tempt, shall force me to bestow
My hand upon him, - yet I wish to know.”
The door unclosed, and she beheld her sire
Lead in the Youth, then hasten to retire;
“Daughter, my friend - my daughter, friend,” he cried,
And gave a meaning look, and stepp’d aside:
That look contained a mingled threat and prayer,
“Do take him, child, - offend him if you dare.”
The couple gazed - were silent, and the maid
Look’d in his face, to make the man afraid;
The man, unmoved, upon the maiden cast
A steady view - so salutation pass’d:
But in this instant Sybil’s eye had seen
The tall fair person, and the still staid mien;
The glow that temp’rance o’er the cheek had spread,
Where the soft down half veil’d the purest red;
And the serene deportment that proclaim’d
A heart unspotted, and a life unblamed:
But then with these she saw attire too plain,
The pale brown coat, though worn without a stain;
The formal air, and something of the pride
That indicates the wealth it seems to hide;
And looks that were not, she conceived, exempt
From a proud pity, or a sly contempt.
Josiah’s eyes had their employment too,
Engaged and soften’d by so bright a view;
A fair and meaning face, an eye of fire,
That check’d the bold, and made the free retire:
But then with these he marked the studied dress
And lofty air, that scorn or pride express;
With that insidious look, that seem’d to hide
In an affected smile the scorn and pride;
And if his mind the virgin’s meaning caught,
He saw a foe with treacherous purpose fraught -
Captive the heart to take, and to reject it, caught.
Silent they sat - thought Sybil, that he seeks
Something, no doubt; I wonder if he speaks:
Scarcely she wonder’d, when these accents fell
Slow in her ear - “Fair maiden, art thou well?”
“Art thou physician?” she replied; “my hand,
My pulse, at least, shall be at thy command.”
She said - and saw, surprised, Josiah kneel,
And gave his lips the offer’d pulse to feel;
The rosy colour rising in her cheek,
Seem’d that surprise unmix’d with wrath to speak;
Then sternness she assumed, and - “Doctor, tell;
Thy words cannot alarm me - am I well?”
“Thou art,” said he; “and yet thy dress so light,
I do conceive, some danger must excite:”
“In whom?” said Sybil, with a look demure:
“In more,” said he, “than I expect to cure; -
I, in thy light luxuriant robe behold
Want and excess, abounding and yet cold;
Here needed, there display’d, in many a wanton fold;
Both health and beauty, learned authors show,
From a just medium in our clothing flow.”
“Proceed, good doctor; if so great my need,
What is thy fee? Good doctor! pray proceed.”
“Large is my fee, fair lady, but I take
None till some progress in my cure I make:
Thou hast disease, fair maiden; thou art vain;
Within that face sit insult and disdain;
Thou art enamour’d of thyself; my art
Can see the naughty malice of thy heart:
With a strong pleasure would thy bosom move,
Were I to own thy power, and ask thy love;
And such thy beauty, damsel, that I might,
But for thy pride, feel danger in thy sight,
And lose my present peace in dreams of vain delight.”
“And can thy patients,” said the nymph “endure
Physic like this? and will it work a cure?”
“Such is my hope, fair damsel; thou, I find,
Hast the true tokens of a noble mind;
But the world wins thee, Sybil, and thy joys
Are placed in trifles, fashions, follies, toys;
Thou hast sought pleasure in the world around,
That in thine own pure bosom should be found;
Did all that world admire thee, praise and love,
Could it the least of nature’s pains remove?
Could it for errors, follies, sins atone,
Or give the comfort, thoughtful and alone?
It has, believe me, maid, no power to charm
Thy soul from sorrow, or thy flesh from harm:
Turn then, fair creature, from a world of sin,
And seek the jewel happiness within.”
“Speak’st thou at meeting?” said the nymph; “thy speech
Is that of mortal very prone to teach;
But wouldst thou, doctor, from the patient learn
Thine own disease? - the cure is thy concern.”
“Yea, with good will.” - “Then know ’tis thy complaint,
That, for a sinner, thou’rt too much a saint;
Hast too much show of the sedate and pure,
And without cause art formal and demure:
This makes a man unsocial, unpolite;
Odious when wrong, and insolent if right.
Thou mayst be good, but why should goodness be
Wrapt in a garb of such formality?
Thy person well might please a damsel’s eye,
In decent habit with a scarlet dye;
But, jest apart - what virtue canst thou trace
In that broad brim that hides thy sober face?
Does that long-skirted drab, that over-nice
And formal clothing, prove a scorn of vice?
Then for thine accent - what in sound can be
So void of grace as dull monotony?
Love has a thousand varied notes to move
The human heart: - thou mayest not speak of love
Till thou hast cast thy formal ways aside,
And those becoming youth and nature tried: