Widow'd and poor, her angry father gave,
Mix'd with reproach, the pittance of a slave;
Forgetful brothers pass'd her, but she knew
Her humbler friends, and to their home withdrew;
The good old vicar to her sire applied
For help, and help'd her when her sire denied;
When in few years death stalk'd through bower
A pleasant humour has the girl: her smile
And cheerful manner tedious hours beguile :
But well observe her, ever near her be,
Close in your thoughts, in your professions free
"Again, my Jessy, hear what I advise,
And watch a woman ever in disguise;
Issop, that widow, serious, subtle, sly-
But what of this-I must have company:
She markets for me, and although she makes
Profit, no doubt, of all she undertakes,
Yet she is one I can to all produce,
And all her talents are in daily use;
Deprived of her, I may another find
As sly and selfish, with a weaker mind:
Sires, sons, and sons of sons, were buried all:
She then abounded, and had wealth to spare
For softening grief she once was doom'd to share:
Thus train'd in misery's school, and taught to feel,
She would rejoice an orphan's woes to heal:
So Jessy thought, who look'd within her breast,
And thence conceived how bounteous minds are But never trust her, she is full of art,
From her vast mansion look'd the lady down
On humbler buildings of a busy town;
Thence came her friends of either sex, and all
With whom she lived on terms reciprocal :
They pass'd the hours with their accustom'd ease,
As guests inclined, but not compell'd to please;
But there were others in the mansion found,
For office chosen, and by duties bound;
Three female rivals, each of power possess'd,
Th' attendant maid, poor friend, and kindred guest.
To these came Jessy, as a seaman thrown
By the rude storm upon a coast unknown
The view was flattering, civil seem'd the race,
But all unknown the dangers of the place. [freed,
Few hours had pass'd, when, from attendants
The lady utter'd-" This is kind indeed;
Believe me, love! that I for one like you
Have daily pray'd, a friend discreet and true;
O! wonder not that I on you depend,
You are mine own hereditary friend:
Hearken, my Jessy, never can I trust
Beings ungrateful, selfish, and unjust;
But you are present, and my load of care
Your love will serve to lighten and to share :
Come near me, Jessy; let not those below
Of my reliance on your friendship know;
Look as they look, be in their freedoms free-
But all they say do you convey to me."
Here Jessy's thoughts to Colin's cottage flew, And with such speed she scarce their absence
"Jane loves her mistress, and should she depart, I lose her service, and she breaks her heart;
My ways and wishes, looks and thoughts she knows,
And duteous care by close attention shows:
But is she faithful? in temptation strong?
Will she not wrong me? ah! I fear the wrong:
Your father loved me; now, in time of need,
Watch for my good, and to his place succeed.
"Blood doesn't bind-that girl, who every day
Eats of my bread, would wish my life away;
I am her dear relation, and she thinks
To make her fortune, an ambitious minx!
She only courts me for the prospect's sake,
Because she knows I have a will to make;
Yes, love! my will delay'd, I know not how-
But you are here, and I will make it now.
"That idle creature, keep her in your view,
See what she does, what she desires to do;
On her young mind may artful villains prey,
And to my plate and jewels find a way;
And worms herself into the closet heart; Seem then, I pray you, careless in her sight, Nor let her know, my love, how we unite.
"Do, my good Jessy, cast a view around, And let no wrong within my house be found; That girl associates with I know not who Are her companions, nor what ill they do; 'Tis then the widow plans, 'tis then she tries Her various arts and schemes for fresh supplies; 'Tis then, if ever, Jane her duty quits, And, whom I know not, favours and admits : O! watch their movements all; for me 'tis hard, Indeed is vain, but you may keep a guard; And I, when none your watchful glance deceive, May make my will, and think what I shall leave."
Jessy, with fear, disgust, alarm, surprise, Heard of these duties for her ears and eyes; Heard by what service she must gain her bread, And went with scorn and sorrow to her bed.
Jane was a servant fitted for her place, Experienced, cunning, fraudful, selfish, base; Skill'd in those mean humiliating arts That make their way to proud and selfish hearts; By instinct taught, she felt an awe, a fear, For Jessy's upright, simple character; Whom with gross flattery she a while assail'd, And then beheld with hatred when it fail'd; Yet trying still upon her mind for hold, She all the secrets of the mansion told; And to invite an equal trust, she drew Of every mind a bold and rapid view; But on the widow'd friend with deep disdain, And rancorous envy, dwelt the treacherous Jane :In vain such arts; without deceit or pride, With a just taste and feeling for her guide, From all contagion Jessy kept apart, Free in her manners, guarded in her heart.
Jessy one morn was thoughtful, and her sigh The widow heard as she was passing by; And-"Well!" she said, "is that some distant
Or aught with us, that gives your bosom pain?
Come, we are fellow sufferers, slaves in thrall,
And tasks and griefs are common to us all;
Think not my frankness strange: they love to
paint
Their state with freedom, who endure restraint;
And there is something in that speaking eye
And sober mien, that prove I may rely:
You came a stranger; to my words attend,
Accept my offer, and you find a friend;
It is a labyrinth in which you stray,
Come, hold my clue, and I will lead the way.
"Good Heaven! that one so jealous, envious, Proud, and yet envious, she disgusted sees base,
Should be the mistress of so sweet a place;
She, who so long herself was low and poor,
Now broods suspicious on her useless store;
She loves to see us abject, loves to deal
Her insult round, and then pretends to feel:
Prepare to cast all dignity aside,
For know your talents will be quickly tried;
Nor think, from favours past, a friend to gain,
'Tis but by duties we our posts maintain:
I read her novels, gossip through the town,
And daily go, for idle stories, down;
I cheapen all she buys, and bear the curse
Of honest tradesmen for my niggard purse;
And, when for her this meanness I display,
She cries, I heed not what I throw away;'
Of secret bargains I endure the shame,
And stake my credit for our fish and game;
Oft has she smiled to hear her generous soul
Would gladly give, but stoops to my control.'
All who are happy, and who look at ease.
Let friendship bind us, I will quickly show
Some favourites near us, you'll be bless'd to know;
My aunt forbids it, but can she expect,
To soothe her spleen, we shall ourselves neglect!
Jane and the widow were to watch and stay
My free-born feet; I watch'd as well as they;
Lo! what is this? this simple key explores
The dark recess that holds the spinster's stores;
And, led by her ill star, I chanced to see
Where Issop keeps her stock of ratafie;
Used in the hours of anger and alarm,
It makes her civil, and it keeps her warm;
Thus bless'd with secrets both would choose to
hide,
Their fears now grant me what their scorn denied.
"My freedom thus by their assent secured,
Bad as it is, the place may be endured;
And bad it is; but her estates, you know,
And her beloved hoards she must bestow;
And friends of demons, if they help us, make."
Nay! I have heard her, when she chanced to come So we can slyly our amusements take,
Where I contended for a petty sum,
Affirm 'twas painful to behold such care,
But Issop's nature is to pinch and spare.' Thus all the meanness of the house is mine, And my reward, to scorn her, and to dine.
"See next that giddy thing, with neither pride To keep her safe, nor principle to guide; Poor, idle, simple flirt! as sure as fate Her maiden fame will have an early date: Of her beware; for all who live below
"Strange creatures these," thought Jessy, half
To smile at one malicious and yet kind;
Frank and yet cunning, with a heart to love
And malice prompt-the serpent and the dove.
Here could she dwell? or could she yet depart?
Could she be artful? could she bear with art?
This splendid mansion gave the cottage grace,
She thought a dungeon was a happier place;
Have faults they wish not all the world to know; And Colin pleading, when he pleaded best,
And she is fond of listening, full of doubt,
And stoops to guilt to find an error out.
"And now once more observe the artful maid, A lying, prying, jilting, thievish jade; I think, my love, you would not condescend To call a low, illiterate girl your friend: But in our troubles we are apt, you know, To lean on all who some compassion show, And she has flexile features, acting eyes, And seems with every look to sympathize; No mirror can a mortal's grief express With more precision, or can feel it less; That proud, mean spirit, she by fawning courts, By vulgar flattery, and by vile reports; And, by that proof she every instant gives, To one so mean, that yet a meaner lives.
"Come, I have drawn the curtain, and you see Your fellow actors, all our company; Should you incline to throw reserve aside, And in my judgment and my love confide, I could some prospects open to your view, That ask attention; and, till then, adieu."
"Farewell!" said Jessy, hastening to her room,
Where all she saw within, without, was gloom:
Confused, perplex'd, she pass'd a dreary hour,
Before her reason could exert its power;
To her all seem'd mysterious, all allied
To avarice, meanness, folly, craft, and pride;
Wearied with thought, she breathed the garden's
air,
Then came the laughing lass, and join'd her there.
"My sweetest friend has dwelt with us a week,
And does she love us? be sincere and speak;
My aunt you cannot-Lord! how I should hate
To be like her, all misery and state;
Wrought not such sudden change in Jessy's breast.
The wondering maiden, who had only read
Of such vile beings, saw them now with dread;
Safe in themselves, for nature has design'd
The creature's poison harmless to the kind;
But all beside who in the haunts are found
Must dread the poison, and must feel the wound.
Days full of care, slow weary weeks pass'd on,
Eager to go, still Jessy was not gone;
Her time in trifling or in tears she spent,
She never gave, she never felt content:
The lady wonder'd that her humble guest
Strove not to please, would neither lie nor jest;
She sought no news, no scandal would convey,
But walk'd for health, and was at church to pray;
All this displeased, and soon the widow cried,
"Let me be frank; I am not satisfied;
You know my wishes, I your judgment trust;
You can be useful, Jessy, and you must.
Let me be plainer, child; I want an ear
When I am deaf, instead of mine to hear,
When mine is sleeping, let your eye awake;
When I observe not, observation take;
Alas! I rest not on my pillow laid,
Then threatening whispers make my soul afraid;
The tread of strangers to my ear ascends,
Fed at my cost, the minions of my friends;
While you, without a care, a wish to please,
Eat the vile bread of idleness and ease."
Th' indignant girl, astonish'd, answer'd, "Nay!
This instant, madam, let me haste away;
Thus speaks my father's, thus an orphan's friend?
This instant, lady, let your bounty end."
The lady frown'd indignant: "What!" she cried, "A vicar's daughter with a princess' pride!
And pauper's lot! but pitying, I forgive;
How, simple Jessy, do you think to live?
Have I not power to help you, foolish maid?
To my concerns be your attention paid;
With cheerful mind th' allotted duties take,
And recollect I have a will to make."
Jessy, who felt as liberal natures feel,
When thus the baser their designs reveal,
Replied, "Those duties were to her unfit,
Nor would her spirit to her tasks submit."
In silent scorn the lady sat a while,
And then replied with stern contemptuous
"Think you, fair madam, that you came to
Fortunes like mine without a thought or care ?
A guest, indeed! from every trouble free,
Dress'd by my help, with not a care for me;
When I a visit to your father made,
I for the poor assistance largely paid;
To his domestics I their tasks assign'd,
I fix'd the portion for his hungry hind;
And had your father (simple man!) obey'd
My good advice, and watch'd as
He might have left you something with his
And lent some colour for these lofty airs.
"In tears, my love! O, then, my soften'd
heart
Cannot resist; we never more will part;
I need your friendship, I will be your friend,
And thus determined, to my will attend."
Jessy went forth, but with determined soul
To fly such love, to break from such control;
"I hear enough," the trembling damsel cried;
"Flight be my care, and Providence my guide:
Ere yet a prisoner, I escape will make;
Will, thus display'd, th' insidious arts forsake,
And, as the rattle sounds, will fly the fatal
Jessy her thanks upon the morrow paid, Prepared to go, determined, though afraid. "Ungrateful creature," said the lady, "this
Could I imagine?-are you frantic, miss?
Grateful for this, that when I think of you,
I little fear what poverty can do."
The angry matron her attendant Jane
Summon'd in haste to soothe the fierce disdain.
"A vile, detested wretch!" the lady cried,
"Yet shall she be, by many an effort, tried,
And, clogg'd with debt and fear, against her will
abide;
And, once secured, she never shall depart
Till I have proved the firmness of her heart;
Then when she dares not, would not, cannot go,
I'll make her feel what 'tis to use me so."
The pensive Colin in his garden stray'd,
But felt not then the beauties it display'd;
There many a pleasant object met his view,
A rising wood of oaks behind it grew;
A stream ran by it, and the village green
And public road were from the gardens seen;
Save where the pine and larch the boundary
And on the rose-beds threw a softening shade.
The mother sat beside the garden door,
Dress'd as in times ere she and hers were poor;
The broad-laced cap was known in ancient
days,
When madam's dress compell'd the village
praise;
And still she look'd as in the times of old,
Ere his last farm the erring husband sold;
While yet the mansion stood in decent state,
And paupers waited at the well-known gate.
"Alas! my son!" the mother cried, " and why
That silent grief and oft-repeated sigh?
True, we are poor, but thou hast never felt
Pangs to thy father for his error dealt;
Pangs from strong hopes of visionary gain,
For ever raised, and ever found in vain.
He rose unhappy! from his fruitless schemes,
As guilty wretches from their blissful dreams;
But thou wert then, my son, a playful child,
Wondering at grief, gay, innocent, and wild,
Listening at times to thy poor mother's sighs,
With curious looks and innocent surprise;
Thy father dying, thou, my virtuous boy,
My comfort always, waked my soul to joy;
What! leave your friend, your prospects-is it With the poor remnant of our fortune left,
true ?"
This Jessy answer'd by a mild "Adieu!"
Thou hast our station of its gloom bereft:
Thy lively temper, and thy cheerful air,
The dame replied, "Then houseless may you Have cast a smile on sadness and despair:
The starving victim to a guilty love;
Branded with shame, in sickness doom'd to nurse
An ill-form'd cub, your scandal and your curse;
Spurn'd by its scoundrel father, and ill fed
By surly rustics with the parish bread !-
Relent you not?-speak-yet I can forgive;
Still live with me." - "With you," said Jessy,
No! I would first endure what you describe,
Rather than breathe with your detested tribe,
Who long have feign'd, till now their very
hearts
Are firmly fix'd in their accursed parts;
Who all profess esteem, and feel disdain,
And all, with justice, of deceit complain;
Whom I could pity, but that, while I stay,
My terror drives all kinder thoughts away;
Thy active hand has dealt to this poor space
The bliss of plenty and the charm of grace;
And all around us wonder when they find
Such taste and strength, such skill and power
There is no mother, Colin, no, not one
But envies me so kind, so good a son;
By thee supported on this failing side,
Weakness itself awakes a parent's pride:
I bless the stroke that was my grief before,
And feel such joy that 'tis disease no more ;
Shielded by thee, my want becomes my wealth,
And soothed by Colin, sickness smiles at health;
The old men love thee, they repeat thy praise,
And say, like thee were youth in earlier days;
While every village maiden cries, 'How gay,
How smart, how brave, how good is Colin
"Yet art thou sad; alas! my son, I know Thy heart is wounded, and the cure is slow; Fain would I think that Jessy still may come To share the comforts of our rustic home: She surely loved thee; I have seen the maid, When thou hast kindly brought the vicar aidWhen thou hast eased his bosom of its pain, O! I have seen her-she will come again.'
The matron ceased; and Colin stood the while Silent, but striving for a grateful smile; He then replied, "Ah! sure, had Jessy stay'd, And shared the comforts of our sylvan shade, The tenderest duty and the fondest love Would not have fail'd that generous heart to
A grateful pity would have ruled her breast,
And my distresses would have made me blest.
"But she is gone, and ever has in view
Grandeur and taste; and what will then ensue?
Surprise, and then delight, in scenes so fair and
For many a day, perhaps for many a week,
Home will have charms, and to her bosom speak;
But thoughtless ease, and affluence, and pride,
Seen day by day, will draw the heart aside:
And she at length, though gentle and sincere,
Will think no more of our enjoyment here."
A SERIOUS toyman in the city dwelt,
Who much concern for his religion felt;
Reading, he changed his tenets, read again,
Sighing he spake-but hark! he hears the ap- And various questions could with skill maintain;
Of rattling wheels! and lo! the evening coach;
Once more the movement of the horses' feet
Makes the fond heart with strong emotion beat;
Faint were his hopes, but ever had the sight
Drawn him to gaze beside his gate at night;
And when with rapid wheels it hurried by,
He grieved his parent with a hopeless sigh;
And could the blessing have been bought, what
Had he not offer'd, to have Jessy come!
She came he saw her bending from the door,
Her face, her smile, and he beheld no more;
Lost in his joy-the mother lent her aid
T' assist and to detain the willing maid;
Who thought her late, her present home to make,
Sure of a welcome for the vicar's sake:
But the good parent was so pleased, so kind,
So pressing Colin, she so much inclined,
That night advanced; and then so long detain'd,
No wishes to depart she felt, or feign'd;
Yet long in doubt she stood, and then perforce
Papist and quaker if we set aside,
He had the road of every traveller tried;
There walk'd a while, and on a sudden turn'd
Into some by-way he had just discern'd:
He had a nephew, Fulham-Fulham went
His uncle's way, with every turn content;
He saw his pious kinsman's watchful care,
And thought such anxious pains his own might
And he, the truth obtain'd, without the toil, might share.
In fact, young Fulham, though he little read,
Perceived his uncle was by fancy led;
And smiled to see the constant care he took,
Collating creed with creed, and book with book.
At length the senior fix'd; I pass the sect
He call'd a church, 'twas precions and elect;
Yet the seed fell not in the richest soil,
Here was a lover fond, a friend sincere; Here was content and joy, for she was here: In the mild evening, in the scene around, The maid, now free, peculiar beauties found; Blended with village tones, the evening gale
For few disciples paid the preacher's toil;
All in an attic room were wont to meet,
These few disciples at their pastor's feet;
With these went Fulham, who, discreet and grave,
Follow'd the light his worthy uncle gave;
Till a warm preacher found a way t' impart
Awakening feelings to his torpid heart:
Some weighty truths, and of unpleasant kind,
Sank, though resisted, in his struggling mind;
He wish'd to fly them, but compell'd to stay,
Gave the sweet night-bird's warblings to the vale; Truth to the waking Conscience found her way;
The youth imbolden'd, yet abash'd, now told
His fondest wish, nor found the maiden cold;
The mother smiling whisper'd-" Let him go
And seek the license!" Jessy answer'd, "No :"
But Colin went. I know not if they live
With all the comforts wealth and plenty give:
But with pure joy to envious souls denied,
To suppliant meanness and suspicious pride;
And village maids of happy couples say,
"They live like Jessy Bourn and Colin Grey."
For though the youth was call'd a prudent lad,
And prudent was, yet serious faults he had;
Who now reflected-" Much am I surprised,
I find these notions cannot be despised;
No! there is something I perceive at last,
Although my uncle cannot hold it fast;
Though I the strictness of these men reject,
Yet I determine to be circumspect;
This man alarms me, and I must begin
To look more closely to the things within;
These sons of zeal have I derided long,
But now begin to think the laughers wrong;
Nay, my good uncle, by all teachers moved,
Will be preferr'd to him who none approved;
Better to love amiss than nothing to have loved."
Such were his thoughts, when Conscience first
began
To hold close converse with th' awaken'd man:
He from that time reserved and cautious grew,
And for his duties felt obedience due;
Pious he was not, but he fear'd the pain
Of sins committed, nor would sin again.
Whene'er he stray'd, he found his Conscience
Like one determined what was ill t' oppose,
What wrong t' accuse, what secret to disclose :
To drag forth every latent act to light,
And fix them fully in the actor's sight:
This gave him trouble, but he still confess'd
The labour useful, for it brought him rest.
The uncle died, and when the nephew read
The will, and saw the substance of the dead-
Five hundred guineas, with a stock in trade-
He much rejoiced, and thought his fortune made;
Yet felt aspiring pleasure at the sight,
And for increase, increasing appetite:
Desire of profit, idle habits check'd,
(For Fulham's virtue was to be correct ;)
He and his Conscience had their compact made-
"Urge me with truth, and you will soon persuade;
But not," he cried, " for mere ideal things
Give me to feel those terror-breeding stings."
"Let not such thoughts," she said, "your mind confound;
Trifles may wake me, but they never wound;
In them indeed there is a wrong and right,
But you will find me pliant and polite;
Not like a Conscience of the dotard kind,
Awake to dreams, to dire offences blind :
Let all within be pure, in all beside
Be your own master, governor, and guide;
Alive to danger, in temptation strong,
And I shall sleep our whole existence long."
"Sweet be thy sleep," said Fulham; "strong
The tempting ill that gains access to me:
Never will I to evil deed consent,
Or, if surprised, O! how will I repent!
Should gain be doubtful, soon would I restore
The dangerous good, or give it to the poor,
Repose for them my growing wealth shall buy-
Or build-who knows?-an hospital like Guy!-
Yet why such means to soothe the smart within,
While firmly purposed to renounce the sin?"
Thus our young Trader and his Conscience dwelt
In mutual love, and great the joy they felt;
But yet in small concerns, in trivial things,
"She was," he said, "too ready with the stings;"
And he too apt, in search of growing gains,
To lose the fear of penalties and pains:
Yet these were trifling bickerings, petty jars,
Domestic strifes, preliminary wars;
He ventured little, little she express'd
Of indignation, and they both had rest.
Thus was he fix'd to walk the worthy way,
When profit urged him to a bold essay :-
A time was that when all at pleasure gamed
In lottery chances, yet of law unblamed;
This Fulham tried who would to him advance
A pound or crown, he gave in turn a chance
For weighty prize; and should they nothing share,
They had their crown or pound in Fulham's ware;
Thus the old stores within the shop were sold
For that which none refuses, new or old.
Was this unjust? yet Conscience could not rest,
But made a mighty struggle in the breast.
And gave th' aspiring man an early proof,
That should they war he would have work enough
"Suppose," said she, " your vended numbers rise
The same with those which gain each real prize,
(Such your proposal,) can you ruin shun?"-
"A hundred thousand," he replied, " to one."-
"Still it may happen." -" I the sum must pay."-
"You know you cannot."-" I can run away."
"That is dishonest." -" Nay, but you must wink
At a chance hit; it cannot be, I think.
Upon my conduct as a whole decide,
Such trifling errors let my virtues hide;
Fail I at meeting? am I sleepy there?
My purse refuse I with the priest to share?
Do I deny the poor a helping hand?
Or stop the wicked women in the Strand ?
Or drink at club beyond a certain pitch?
Which are your charges? Conscience, tell me
""Tis well," said she, "but-" "Nay, I pray, have done:
Trust me, I will not into danger run."
The lottery drawn, not one demand was made; Fulham gain'd profit and increase of trade. "See now," said he-for Conscience yet arose"How foolish 'tis such measures to oppose : Have I not blameless thus my state advanced?""Still," mutter'd Conscience, still it might have
"Might!" said our hero, "who is so exact As to inquire what might have been a fact?"
Now Fulham's shop contain'd a curious view
Of costly trifles elegant and new :
The papers told where kind mammas might buy
The gayest toys to charm an infant's eye;
Where generous beaux might gentle damsels please,
And travellers call who cross the land or seas,
And find the curious art, the neat device
Of precious value and of trifling price.
Here Conscience rested, she was find pleased to find,
No less an active than an honest mind;
But when he named his price, and when he swore,
His conscience check'd him, that he ask'd no more,
When half he sought had been a large increase
On fair demand, she could not rest in peace:
(Beside th' affront to call th' adviser in,
Who would prevent, to justify the sin ?)
She therefore told him, that "he vainly tried
To soothe her anger, conscious that he lied;
If thus he grasp'd at such usurious gains,
He must deserve, and should expect her pains."
The charge was strong; he would in part con-
Offence there was: but who offended less? "What! is a mere assertion call'd a lie ? And if it be, are men compell'd to buy? "Twas strange that Conscience on such points
While he was acting (he would call it) well: He bought as others buy, he sold as others sell
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