Jonas had sisters, and of these was one Who lost a husband and an only son; Twelve months her sables she in sorrow wore, And mourn'd so long, that she could mourn no

more.

Distant from Jonas, and from all her race.
She now resided in a lively place;
There, by the sect unseen, at whist she play'd,
Nor was of churchmen or their church afraid:
If much of this the graver brother heard,
He something censured, but he little fear'd;
He knew her rich and frugal; for the rest
He felt no care, or, if he felt, suppress'd;
Nor for companion when she ask'd her niece,
Had he suspicions that disturb'd his peace;
Frugal and rich, these virtues as a charm
Preserved the thoughtful man from all alarm ;
An infant yet, she soon would home return,
Nor stay the manners of the world to learn;
Meantime his boys would all his care engross,
And be his comforts if he felt the loss.

The sprightly Sybil, pleased and unconfined,
Felt the pure pleasure of the opening mind.
All here was gay and cheerful; all at home
Unvaried quiet, and unruffled gloom:
There were no changes, and amusements few;
Here all was varied, wonderful, and new:

The aunt and niece still led a pleasant life,
And quiet days had Jonas and his wife.

Near him a widow dwelt of worthy fame,
Like his her manners, and her creed the same;
The wealth her husband left, her care retain'd
For one tall youth, and widow she remain'd;
His love respectful all her care repaid,
Her wishes watch'd, and her commands obey'd.

Sober he was and grave from early youth, Mindful of forms, but more intent on truth; In a light drab he uniformly dress'd, And look serene th' unruffled mind express'd; A hat with ample verge his brows o'erspread, And his brown locks curl'd graceful on his head; Yet might observers in his speaking eye Some observation, some acuteness spy; The friendly thought it keen, the treacherous

deem'd it sly;

Yet not a crime could foe or friend detect,
His actions all were, like his speech, correct;
And they who jested on a mind so sound,
Upon his virtues must their laughter found;
Chaste, sober, solemn, and devout they named
Him who was thus, and not of this ashamed.

Such were the virtues Jonas found in one
In whom he warmly wish'd to find a son:
Three years had pass'd since he had Sybil seen;

looks;

Here, gay companions and amusing books:
And the young beauty soon began to taste
The light vocations of the scene she graced.
A man of business feels it as a crime
On calls domestic to consume his time;
Yet this grave man had not so cold a heart,
But with his daughter he was grieved to part:
And he demanded that in every year
The aunt and niece should at his house appear.

"Yes! we must go, my child, and by our dress
A grave conformity of mind express;
Must sing at meeting, and from cards refrain,
The more t' enjoy when we return again."

Thus spake the aunt, and the discerning child Was pleased to learn how fathers are beguiled. Her artful part the young dissembler took, And from the matron caught th' approving look: When thrice the friends had met, excuse was sent For more delay, and Jonas was content; Till a tall maiden by her sire was seen, In all the bloom and beauty of sixteen; He gazed admiring;-she, with visage prim, Glanced an arch look of gravity on him; For she was gay at heart, but wore disguise, And stood a vestal in her father's eyes: Pure, pensive, simple, sad; the damsel's heart, When Jonas praised, reproved her for the part; For Sybil, fond of pleasure, gay and light, Had still a secret bias to the right; Vain as she was-and flattery made her vainHer simulation gave her bosom pain.

Again return'd, the matron and the niece Found the late quiet gave their joy increase; The aunt, infirm, no more her visits paid, But still with her sojourn'd the favourite maid. Letters were sent when franks could be procured, And when they could not, silence was endured; All were in health, and if they older grew, It seem'd a fact that none among them knew;

Lovely and mild, obedient and discreet;
The pair must love whenever they should meet
Then ere the widow or her son should choose
Some happier maid, he would explain his views.
Now she, like him, was politic and shrewd,
With strong desire of lawful gain imbued
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 loath 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 favourite 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 his sister's name :"The sinful wretch has by her arts defiled 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

ening 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, soulless boy My manners alter, or my views destroy!"

Jonas then lifted up his hands on high, And uttering 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 seekHow she shall dress, and whether she may speak."

A sober smile return'd 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 contain'd 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;

859210 A

Jonas had sisters, and of these was one

The aunt and niece

Hone,

and ale!

And quiet days ha Near him a wid

er to com

rharm:

of san,

Distant from Jonas, and from all her race.
She now resided in a lively place;
There, by the sect unseen, at whist she play'd,
Nor was of churchmen or their church afraid:
If much of this the graver brother heard,
He something censured, but he little fear'd;
He knew her rich and frugal; for the rest
He felt no care, or, if he felt, suppress'd;
Nor for companion when she ask'd her niece,
Had he suspicions tha. disturb'd his peace;
Frugal and rich, these virtues as a charm
Preserved the thoughtful man from all alarm;
An infant yet, she soon would home return,
Nor stay the manners of the world to learn;
Meantime his boys would all his care engross,
And be his comforts if he felt the loss.

The sprightly Sybil, pleased and unconfined,
Felt the pure pleasure of the opening mind.
All here was gay and cheerful; all at home
Unvaried quiet, and unruffled gloom:
There were no changes, and amusements f
Here all was varied, wonderful, and new
There were plain meals, plain dresses.
looks;

Here, gay companions and amusing bo
And the young beauty soon began to
The light vocations of the scene sho

A man of business feels it as a cr
On calls domestic to consume his fr
Yet this grave man had not so col
But with his daughter he was L
And he demanded that in every、
The aunt and niece should at

"Yes! we must go, my cin
A grave conformity of minu
Must sing at meeting, and
The more t' enjoy when we
Thus spake the aunt
Was pleased to learn La
Her artful part the yo
And from the matron
When thrice the fris
For more delay, an
Till a tall maiden
In all the bloom.
He gazed admir
Glanced an arch.
For she was ga
And stood ave
Pure, pensive.
When Jonas i
For Sybil, fon
Had still as
Vain as she
Her simul

Again Found the

The au

But sti

Letter

And
All we

Its

1

For one tall yo
His love resp
Her wishes
Sober he
Mindful o
In a ligh
And I
A ha
And
Ye

So.

said the nymph

e to teach;

from the patient learn re cure is thy concern." "Then know, 'tis thy

'rt too much a saint; of the sedate and pure, art formal and demure:

unsocial, unpolite;

-, and insolent if right.
od, but why should goodness be
at such formality?

- might please a damsel's eye,
with a scarlet dye;

what virtue canst thou trace
orm that hides thy sober face?
g-skirted drab, that over-nice
clothing, prove a scorn of vice?
une accent-what in sound can be
grare as dull monotony?
thousand varied notes to move
heart;-thou mayst not speak of love

ast cast thy formal ways aside,
se becoming youth and nature tried :
terior freedom, spirit, ease,

study and delight to please; Dese follies meet thy just disdain, - set thy virtues and thy worth remain." severe! 0! maiden, wilt not thou ng for habits, manners, modes, allow "at allowing much, I much require, :rezaif, for manners, modes, attire!"

slovely Sybil; and, this point agreed, me te those of greater weight proceed: "ahee"-" Nay," she quickly interposed, doctor, here our conference is closed!" reft the youth, who, lost in his retreat, the good matron on her garden-seat;

bas nols were troubled, and his air, once mild hurried - My audacious child!" the dame. "I read what she has done acsniessure-Ah! the thoughtless one! Jsinh, to my stern good man the maid as mildly as you can: wo not seem to woo a little while dangthter's will, the father to beguile! ma his wrath in time may wear away; wed, preserve our peace, Josiah? say."

my good neighbour," said the gentle

T

istress,

confess.".

ONL

Ine come again

TALE VII.

THE WIDOW'S TALE.

Ah me! for aught that I could ever read,

Or ever hear by tale or history,

The course of true love never did run smooth:

But either it was different in blood,

Or else misgrafted in respect of years,

Or else it stood upon the choice of friends;
Or if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.

Midsummer Night's Dream, act i. sc. 1.

O! thou didst then ne'er love so heartily,
If thou rememberest not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into.

As You Like It, act ii. sc. 4.

Cry the man mercy; love him, take his offer. Ibid. act iii. sc. 5.

To farmer Moss, in Langar Vale, came down His only daughter, from her school in town ; A tender, timid maid! who knew not how To pass a pig-sty, or to face a cow : Smiling she came, with petty talents graced, A fair complexion, and a slender waist. Used to spare meals, disposed in manner pure, Her father's kitchen she could ill endure; Where by the steaming beef he hungry sat, And laid at once a pound upon his plate : Hot from the field, her eager brother seized An equal part, and hunger's rage appeased; The air, surcharged with moisture, flagg'd around, And the offended damsel sigh'd and frown'd; The swelling fat in lumps conglomerate laid, And fancy's sickness seized the loathing maid :

The maidens with them, and with these the cook;
When one huge wooden bowl before them stood,
l'd with huge balls, of farinaceous food;
acon, mass saline, where never lean
eath the brown and bristly rind was seen;

When from a single horn the party drew
I heir copious draughts of heavy ale and new;
When the course cloth she saw, with many a stain,
Soil'd by rude hinds who cut and came again,
She could not breathe; but, with a heavy sigh,
Rein'd the fair neck, and shut th' offended eye;
She minced the sanguine flesh in frustums fine,
And wonder'd much to see the creatures dine:
When she resolved her father's heart to move,
If hearts of farmers were alive to love.

She now entreated by herself to sit In the small parlour, if papa thought fit, And there to dine, to read, to work alone. "No!" said the farmer, in an angry tone; "These are your school-taught airs; your mother's

pride

Would send you there; but I am now your guide..
Arise betimes, our early meal prepare,
And this despatch'd, let business be your care;
Look to the lasses, let there not be one
Who lacks attention, till her tasks be done;
In every household work your portion take,
And what you make not, see that others make:
At leisure times attend the wheel, and see
The whitening web he sprinkled on the Lea;
When thus employ'd, should our young neighbour

view

A useful lass, you may have more to do."
Dreadful were these commands; but worse than
these

The parting hint, a farmer could not please:
'Tis true she had without abhorrence seen
Young Harry Carr, when he was smart and clean;
But to be married, be a farmer's wife,

A slave! a drudge! she could not, for her life. With swimming eyes the fretful nymph withdrew,

And, deeply sighing, to her chamber flew;
There on her knees, to Heaven she grieving pray'd
For change of prospect to a tortured maid

Harry, a youth whose late departed sire
Had left him all industrious men require,
Saw the pale beauty; and her shape and air
Engaged him much, and yet he must forbear :
"For my small farm what can the damsel do ?"
He said; then stopp'd to take another view :
"Pity so sweet a lass will nothing learn
Of household cares; for what can beauty earn
By those small arts which they at school attain,
That keep them useless, and yet make them vain?"

This luckless damsel look'd the village round, To find a friend, and one was quickly found; A pensive widow, whose mild air and dress Pleased the sad nymph, who wish'd her soul's dis

tress

To one so seeming kind, confiding, to confess.
"What lady that?" the anxious lass inquired,
Who then beheld the one she most admired:

"Here," said the brother, " are no ladies seen-
That is a widow dwelling on the green;
A dainty dame, who can but barely live
On her poor pittance, yet contrives to give;