Teach me,' he cried, that pensive mind. to ease, For all my pleasure is the hope to please.' Serene, though heavy, were the days we spent, Yet kind each word, and generous each intent; But his dejection lessen'd every day, And to a placid kindness died away; In tranquil ease we pass'd our latter years, By griefs untroubled, unassail'd by fears. "Let not romantic views your bosom sway, Yield to your duties, and their call obey : Fly not a youth, frank, honest, and sincere ; Observe his merits, and his passion hear! "Tis true, no hero, but a farmer suesSlow in his speech, but worthy in his views; With him you cannot that affliction prove That rends the bosom of the poor in love: Health, comfort, competence, and cheerful days, Your friends' approval, and your father's praise, Will crown the deed, and you escape their fate Who plan so wildly, and are wise too late." The damsel heard; at first th' advice was strange, Yet wrought a happy, nay, a speedy change: 'I have no care," she said, when next they met, "But one may wonder he is silent yet: He looks around him with his usual stare, And utters nothing-not that I shall care." This pettish humour pleased th' experienced friend None need despair whose silence can offend; "Should I," resumed the thoughtful lass, "consent To hear the man, the man may now repent: Think you my sighs shall call him from the plough, Or give one hint, that You may woo me now?" "Persist, my love," replied the friend, "and gain A parent's praise, that cannot be in vain." The father saw the change, but not the cause, And gave the alter'd maid his ford applause : The coarser manners she in part removed, In part endured, improving and i proved She spoke of household works, she rose betimes, And said neglect and indolence were crimes; The various duties of their life she weigh'd, And strict attention to her dairy paid; The names of servants now familiar grew And fair Lucindas from her mind withdrew: As prudent travellers for their ease assume Their modes and language to whose lands they come: So to the farmer this fair lass inclined, A happy change! my boy," the father cried : "How lost your sister all her school-day pride?” The youth replied, "It is the widow's deed: speed." And comes there, boy, this benefit of books, Of that smart dress, and of those dainty looks? We must be kind; some offerings from the far To the white cot will speak our feelings warm; Will show that people, when they know the fact Where they have judged severely, can retract. Oft have I smiled, when I beheld her pass With cautions step, as if she hurt the grass, Where if a snail's retreat she chanced to storm, She look'd as begging pardon of the worm; And what, said I, still laughing at the view, Have these weak creatures in the world to do? But some are made for action, some to speak; And, while she looks so pitiful and meek, Her words are weighty, though her nerves are weak." Soon told the village bells the rite was done, That join'd the school-bred miss and farmer's son, Her former habits some slight scandal raised, But real worth was soon perceived and praised; She, her neat taste imparted to the farm, And he, th' improving skill and vigorous arm. THERE was a worthy, but a simple pair, |