Ten paces off, poor Rupert on a seat
Has taken refuge from the noon-day heat,
His eyes on her intent, as if to find
What were the movements of that subtle mind:
How still-how earnest is he !-it appears
His thoughts are wand'ring through his earlier years;
Through years of fruitless labour, to the day
When all his earthly prospects died away:
"Had I," he thinks, "been wealthier of the two,
"Would she have found me so unkind, untrue?
"Or knows not man when poor, what man when rich will do ?
"Yes, yes! I feel that I had faithful prov'd,
"And should have sooth'd and rais'd her, blest and lov'd.”
But Dinah moves-she had observ'd before,
The pensive Rupert at an humble door:
Some thoughts of pity rais'd by his distress,
Some feeling touch of ancient tenderness;
Religion, duty urg'd the maid to speak,
In terms of kindness to a man so weak:
But pride forbad, and to return would prove
She felt the shame of his neglected love;
Nor wrapp'd in silence could she pass, afraid
Each eye should see her, and each heart upbraid;
One way remain'd-the way
the Levite book,
Who without mercy could on misery look;
(A way perceiv'd by craft, approv'd by pride), She cross'd and pass'd him on the other side.
That I should love a bright peculiar star,
And think to wed it; she is so much above me;
In her bright radiance and collateral heat,
Must I be comforted, not in her sphere.
All's Well that Ends Well, Act I. Scene 1.
Poor wretches, that depend
On greatness' favours, dream as I have done,
Wake and find nothing.
Cymbeline, Act V. Scene 4.
Th' affliction of my mind amends, with which
I fear a madness held me.
A BOROUGH-BAILIFF, who to law was train'd,
A wife and sons in decent state maintain'd;
He had his way in life's rough ocean steer'd,
And many a rock and coast of danger clear'd;
He saw where others fail'd, and care had he,
Others in him should not such failings see;
His sons in various busy states were plac'd,
And all began the sweets of gain to taste;
Save John, the younger; who, of sprightly parts,
Felt not a love for money-making arts:
In childhood feeble, he, for country air,
Had long resided with a rustic pair;
All round whose room were doleful ballads, songs,
Of lovers' sufferings and of ladies' wrongs;
Of peevish ghosts who came at dark midnight,
For breach of promise, guilty men to fright;
Love, marriage, murder, were the themes, with these,
All that on idle, ardent spirits seize ;
Robbers at land and pirates on the main,
Enchanters foil'd, spells broken, giants slain ; Legends of love, with tales of halls and bowers, Choice of rare songs, and garlands of choice flowers, And all the hungry mind without a choice devours.
From Village-children kept apart by pride,
With such enjoyments, and without a guide,
Inspir'd by feelings all such works infus'd,
John snatch'd a pen, and wrote as he perus'd:
With the like fancy he could make his knight
Slay half an host and put the rest to flight;
With the like knowledge, he could make him ride
From isle to isle at Parthenissa's side;
And with a heart yet free, no busy brain
Form'd wilder notions of delight and pain,
The raptures smiles create, the anguish of disdain.
Such were the fruits of John's poetic toil,
Weeds, but still proofs of vigour in the soil:
He nothing purpos'd but with vast delight,
Let Fancy loose, and wonder'd at her flight:
His notions of poetic worth were high,
And of his own still-hoarded poetry ;—
These to his father's house he bore with pride,
A miser's treasure, in his room to hide;
Till spurr'd by glory, to a reading friend
Ile kindly show'd the Sonnets he had penn'd :
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