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Creeds to reject, pretensions to deride,
If to his bosom fear a visit paid, And, following thee, to follow none beside."
lest he should be supposed afraid ; Such was the speech ; it struck upon the ear Hence sprang his orders ; not that he desired Like sudden thunder, none expect to hear. The things when done ; obedience he required ; He saw men's wonder with a manly pride, And thus, to prove his absolute command, And gravely smiled at guest electrified :
Ruled every heart, and moved each subject hand, “A farmer this !" they said ; "O! let him seek Assent he ask'd for every word and whim, That place where he may for his country speak; To prove that he alone was king of him. On some great question to harangue for hours, The still Rebecca, who her station knew, While speakers hearing, envy nobler powers !" With ease resign'd the honours not her due ;
Wisdom like this, as all things rich and rare, Well pleased, she saw that men her board would Must lie acquired with pains, and kept with care ; grace, In books he sought it, which his friends might view, And wish'd not there to see a female face; When their kind host the guarding curtain drew. When by her lover she his spouse was styled, There were historic works for graver hours, Polite she thought it, and demurely smiled ; And lighter verse, to spur the languid powers;
But when he wanted wives and maidens round There metaphysics, logic there had place; So to regard her, she grew grave and frown'd : But of devotion not a single trace
And sometimes whisper’d, “Why should you respect Save what is taught in Gibbon's florid page,
These people's notions, yet their forms reject ?" And other guides of this inquiring age;
G:vyn, though from marriage bond and fetter free, There Hume appear'd, and near, a splendid book Still felt abridgement in his liberty ; Composed by Gay's good lord of Bolingbroke : Something of hesitation he betray'd, With these were mix'd the light, the free, the vain, | And in her presence thought of what he said. And from a corner peep'd the sage Tom Paine : Thus fair Rebecca, though she walk'd astray, Here four neat volumes Chesterfield were named, His creed rejecting, judged it right to pray ; For manners much and easy morals famed ; To be at church, to sit with serious looks, With chaste Memoirs of Females, to be read To read her Bible and her Sunday books : When deeper studies had confused the head. She hated all those new and daring themes,
Such his resources, treasures where he sought And call'd his free conjectures, “ devil's dreams :" For daily knowledge till his mind was fraught: She honour'd still the priesthood in her fall, Then when his friends were present, for their use And claim'd respect and reverence for them all ; He would the riches he had stored produce ; Call'd them “of sin's destructive power the foes, He found his lamp burn clearer, when each day And not such blockheads as he might suppose." He drew for all he purposed to display:
Gwyn to his friends would smile, and sometimes say For these occasions, torth his knowledge sprung,
“ 'Tis a kind fool, why vex her in her way !" As mustard quickens on a bed of dung ;
Her way she took, and still had more in view, All was prepared, and guests allow'd the praise, For she contrived that he should take it too. For what they saw he could so quickly raise. The daring freedom of his soul, 'twas plain, Such this new friend ; and when the year came In part was lost in a divided reign; round,
A king and queen, who yet in prudence swayed The same impressive, reasoning sage was found; Their peaceful state, and were in turn obey'd. Then, too, was seen the pleasant mansion graced Yet such our fate, that when we plan the best, With a fair damsel-his no vulgar taste;
Something arises to disturb our rest : The neat Rebecca-sly, observant, still,
For though in spirits high, in body strong, Watching his eye, and waiting on his will ; Gwyn something felt-he knew not whatSimple yet smart her dress, her manners meek,
wrong ; Her smiles spoke for her, she would seldom speak; He wish'd to know, for he believed the thing, But watch'd each look, each meaning to detect, If unremoved, would other evil bring : And (pleased with notice) felt for all neglect. “She must perceive, of late he could not eat.
With her lived Gwyn a sweet harmonious life, And when he walked, he trembled on his feet; Who, forms excepted, was a charming wife : He had forebodings, and he seem'd as one The wives indeed, so made by vulgar law, Stopp'd on the road, or threaten'd by a dun; Affected scorn, and censured what they saw; He could not live, and yet, should he apply And what they saw not, fancied ; said 'twas sin, To those physicians-he must sooner die." And took no notice of the wife of Gwyn :
The mild Rebecca heard with some disdain, But he despised their rudeness, and would prove And some distress, her friend and lord complain : Theirs was compulsion and distrust, not love ; His death she fear'd not, but had painful doubt “ Fools as they were! could they conceive that What his distemper'd nerves might bring about; rings
With power like hers she dreaded an ally, And parsons' blessings were substantial things ?” And yet there was a person in her eye ;They answered “ Yes ;" while he contemptuous She thought, debated, fix'd ; “Alas !" she said, spoke
"A case like yours must be no more delay'd : Of the low notions held by simple folk ;
You hate these doctors, well! but were a friend Yet, strange that anger in a man so wise
And doctor one, your fears would have an end : Should from the notions of these fools arise ; My cousin Mollet-Scotland holds him nowCan they so vex us, whom we so despise ? Is above all men skilful, all allow ; Brave as he was, our hero felt a dread
Of late a doctor, and within a while Lest those who saw him kind should think him led ; | He means to settle in this favour'd isle ;
Should he attend you, with his skill profound, But where such friends in every care unite
When men in health against physicians rail, Now Gwyn a sultan bade affairs adieu,
When wintry winds with leaves bestrew'd the That these neglected dwarfs to giants grow.
ground, Happy is he who through the medium sees And men were coughing all the village round; Of clear good sense-but Gwyn was not of these. When public papers of invasion told,
He heard, and he rejoiced : "Ah! let him come, Diseases, famines, perils new and old ; And till he fixes, make my house his home.” When philosophic writers fail'd to clear Home came the doctor-he was much admired; The mind of gloom, and lighter works to cheer : He told the patient what his case required; Then came fresh terrors on our hero's mind, His hours for sleep, his time to eat and drink ; Fears unforeseen, and feelings undefined. When he should ride, read, rest, compose, or think. " In outward ills,” he cried, " I rest assured Thus join'd peculiar skill and art profound, Of my friend's aid ; they will in time be cured : To make the fancy-sick no more than fancy-sound. But can his art subdue, resist, control
With such attention who could long be ill? These inward griefs and troubles of the soul ? Returning health proclaim'd the doctor's skill. 0! my Rebecca! my disordered mind, Presents and praises from a grateful heart No help in study, none in thought can find ; Were freely offered on the patient's part;
What must I do, Rebecca ?” She proposed In high repute the doctor seem'd to stand, The parish-guide ; but what could be disclosed But still had got no footing in the land;
To a proud priest?—“No! him have I defied, And, as he saw the seat was rich and fair, Insulted, slighted, -shall he be my guide ? He felt disposed to fix his station there :
But one there is, and if report be just, To gain his purpose he perform'd the part
A wise good man, whom I may safely trust : Of a good actor, and prepared to start :
Who goes from house to house, from ear to ear, Not like a traveller in a day serene,
To make his truths, his gospel truths, appear; When the sun shone and when the roads were clean; True if indeed they be, 'tis time that I should hear: Not like the pilgrim, when the morning gray,
Send for that man, and if report be just,
Shall soon discover, and discharge the cheat."
My books, perhaps," the wavering mortal cried, You need not fear-farewell! 'tis time to go." “ Like men deceive; I would be satisfied ;
The doctor spoke, and, as the patient heard, And to my soul the pious man may bring His old disorders (dreadful train !) appear'd;
Comfort and light-do let me try the thing." * He felt the tingling tremor, and the stress
The cousins met, what pass'd with Gwyn was told Upon his nerves that he could not express ; " Alas!" the doctor said, “ how hard to hold Should his good friend forsake him, he perhaps These easy minds, where all impressions made Might meet his death, and surely a relapse.” At first sink deeply, and then quickly fade ; So, as the doctor seem'd intent to part,
For while so strong these new-born fancies reign,
Thus Gwyn was happy ; he had now a friend, And this will place him in the power of one
Where he beheld and grew in dread of sin;
Then to a Baptists' meeting found his way, Reclined, and having but himself to please ; Became a convert, and was taught to pray; Now if he would a favourite nag bestride, Then preach'd ; and being earnest and sincere, He sought permission : “ Doctor, may I ride ?" Brought other sinners to religious fear; (Rebecca's eye her sovereign pleasure told,) Together grew his influence and his fame, " I think you may, but guarded from the cold, Till our dejecied hero heard his name: Ride forty minutes."-Free and happy soul! His little failings were, a grain of pride, He scorn'd submission, and a man's control; Raised by the numbers he presumed to guide;
A love of presents, and of lofty praise
Thus sees a peasant with discernment nice, For his meek spirit and his humble ways; A love of power, conceit, and avarice. But though this spirit would on flattery feed, Lo! now the change complete: the convert No praise could blind him and no arts mislead :
Gwyn To him the doctor made the wishes known Has sold his books, and has renounced his sin; Of his good patron, but conceal'd his own; Mollet his body orders, Wisp his soul, He of all teachers had distrust and doubt,
And o'er his purse the lady takes control;
And fair Rebecca leads a virtuous life
bind : And should his conscience give him leave to dwell
Heaven witness With Gwyn, and every rival power expel,
I have been to you ever true and humble. (A dubious point,) yet he, with every care,
Henry VIII. act iv. sc. 4. Might soon the lot of the rejected share ;
Gentle lady, And other Wisps he found like him to reign, When first I did impart iny love to you, And then be thrown upon the world again.
I freely told you all the wealth I bad. He thought it prudent then, and felt it just,
Merchant of Venice, act iii. sc. 2. The present guides of his new friend to trust;
The fatal time True, he conceived, to touch the harder heart Cuts off all ceremonies and vows of love, Of the cool doctor, was beyond his art;
And ample interchange of sweet discourse, But mild Rebecca he could surely sway,
Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon.
Richard III, act v., sc. 3. While Gwyn would follow where she led the
I know thee not, old man; fall to thy prayers. way:
Henry IV. Part 2, act v. sc. 5. So to do good, (and why a duty shun,
Farewell Because rewarded for the good when done ?)
Thou pure impiety, thou impious purity, He with his friends would join in all they plann'd, For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love. Save when his faith or feelings should withstand ;
Much Ado about Nothing, act iv. sc. 2 There he must rest, sole judge of his affairs, While they might rule exclusively in theirs. Love will expire, the gay, the happy dream
When Gwyn his message to the teacher sent, Will turn to scorn, indifference, or esteem: He fear'd his friends would show their discontent; Some favour'd pairs, in this exchange are bless'd And prudent seem'd it to th' attendant pair, Nor sigh for raptures in a state of rest; Not all at once to show an aspect fair :
Others, ill match'd, with minds unpair'd repent On Wisp they seem'd to look with jealous eye, At once the deed and know no more content; And fair Rebecca was demure and shy ;
From joy to anguish they, in haste, decline, But by degrees the teacher's worth they knew, And with their fondness, their esteem resign : And were so kind, they seem'd converted too. More luckless still their fate, who are the prey
Wisp took occasion to the nymph to say, Of long protracted hope and dull delay; “ You must be married : will you name the day?" 'Mid plans of bliss the heavy hours pass on, She smiled, -—" "Tis well; but should he not com- Till love is wither’d, and till joy is gone. ply,
This gentle flame two youthful hearts possess'd, Is it quite safe th' experiment to try ?"
The sweet disturber of unenvied rest : “My child," the teacher said, “ who feels remorse, The prudent Dinah was the maid beloved, (And feels not he ?) must wish relief of course ; And the kind Rupert was the swain approved : And can he find it, while he fears the crime - A wealthy aunt her gentle niece sustain’d, You must be married; will you name the time ?" He, with a father, at his desk remain'd;
Glad was the patron as a man could be, The youthful couple, to their vows sincere, Yet marvellid too, to find his guides agree; Thus loved expectant; year succeding year, “But what the cause ?" he cried ; “'tis genuine With pleasant views and hopes, but not a prospecs love for me."
near. Each found his part, and let one act describe Rupert some comfort in his station saw, The powers and honours of th' accordant tribe :- But the poor virgin lived in dread and awe; A man for favour to the mansion speeds,
Upon her anxious looks the widow smiled, And cons his threefold task as he proceeds; And bade her wait, “ for she was yet a child." To teacher Wisp he bows with humble air, She for her neighbour had a due respect, And begs his interest for a barn's repair:
Nor would his son encourage or reject; Then for the doctor he inquires, who loves And thus the pair, with expectations vain, To hear applause for what his skill improves, Beheld the seasons change, and change again : And gives for praise, assent,—and to the fair Meantime the nymph her tender tales perused, He brings of pullets a delicious pair ;
Where cruel aunts impatient girls refused ;
While hers, though teasing, boasted to be kind, Now the grave niece partook the widow's cares, And she, resenting, to be all resign'd.
Look'd to the great and ruled the small affairs; The dame was sick, and when the youth applied Saw clean'd the plate, arranged the china show, For her consent, she groan'd, and cough'd and And felt her passion for a shilling grow: cried :
Th' indulgent aunt increased the maid's delight, Talk'd of departing, and again her breath By placing tokens of her wealth in sight; Drew hard, and cough'd, and talk'd again of death: She loved the value of her bonds to tell, “ Here you may live, my Dinah! here the boy And spake of stocks, and how they rose and fell. And you together my estate enjoy ;"
This passion grew, and gain'd at length such Thus to the lovers was her mind express'd,
sway, Till they forebore to urge the fond request. That other passions shrank to make its way ;
Servant, and nurse, and comforter, and friend, Romantic notions now the heart forsook, Dinah had still some duty to attend;
She read but seldom, and she changed her book : But yet their walk, when Rupert's evening call And for the verses she was wont to send, Obtain'd an hour, made sweet amends for all ; Short was her prose, and she was Rupert's friend. So long they now each other's thoughts had known, Seldom she wrote, and then the widow's cough, That nothing seem'd exclusively their own; And constant call, excused her breaking off; But with the common wish, the mutual fear, Who, now oppressid, no longer took the air, They now had travell’d to their thirtieth year. But sate and dozed upon an easy chair.
At length a prospect open'd; but, alas ! The cautious doctor saw the case was clear, Long time must yet, before the union, pass; But judged it best to have companions near; Rapert was call'd in other clime, t' increase They came, they reason'd, they prescribed-at last, Another's wealth, and toil for future peace ; Like honest men, they said their hopes were past; Loath were the lovers; but the aunt declared Then came a priest—'tis comfort to reflect, 'Twas fortune's call, and they must be prepared; When all is over, there was no neglect; * You now are young, and for this brief delay, And all was over-by her husband's bones, And Dinah's care, what I bequeath will pay ; The widow rests beneath the sculptured stones, All will be yours; nay, love, suppress that sigh; That yet record their fondness and their fame, The kind must suffer, and the best must die :" While all they left the virgin's care became ; Then came the cough, and strong the signs it gave Stocks, bonds, and buildings ;-it disturb'd her rest, or holding long contention with the grave. To think what load of troubles she possess'd :
The lovers parted with a gloomy view, Yet, if a trouble, she resolved to take And little comfort but that both were true; Th' important duty, for the donor's sake ; He for uncertain duties doom'd to steer,
She too was heiress to the widow's taste, While hers remain'd too certain and severe. Her love of hoarding and her dread of waste. Letters arrived, and Rupert fairly told
Sometimes the past would on her mind intrude, “ His cares were many, and his hopes were cold; And then a conflict full of care ensued; The view more clouded, that was never fair, The thoughts of Rupert on her mind would press, And love alone preserved him from despair :" His worth she knew, but doubted his success; In other letters, brighter hopes he drew,
of old she saw him heedless; what the boy “ His friends were kind, and he believed them Forebore to save, the man would not enjoy ; true.”
Oft hąd he lost the chance that care would seize, When the sage widow Dinah's grief descried, Willing to live, but more to live at ease : She wonder'd much, why one so happy sigh'd : Yet could she not a broken vow defend, Then bade her see how her poor aunt sustain'd And Heaven, perhaps, might yet enrich her friend. The ills of life nor murmur'd nor complain'd. Month after month was pass'd, and all were To vary pleasures, from the lady's chest
spent Were drawn the pearly string and tabby vest ; In quiet comfort and in rich content: Beads, jewels, laces, all their value shown, Miseries there were, and woes the world around, With the kind notice,—" They will be your own." But these had not her pleasant dwelling found :
This hope, these comforts, cherish'd day by day, She knew that mothers grieved, and widows wept, To Dinah's bosom made a gradual way;
And she was sorry, said her prayers, and slept : Till love of treasure had as large a part,
Thus pass'd the seasons, and to Dinah's board As love of Rupert, in the virgin's heart.
Gave what the seasons to the rich afford ; Whether it be that tender passions fail,
For she indulged, nor was her heart so small, From their own nature, while the strong prevail; That one strong passion should engross it all. Or whether avarice, like the poison tree, *
A love of splendour now with avarice strove, Kills all beside it, and alone will be ;
And oft appeared to be the stronger love: Whatever cause prevail'd, the pleasure grew A secret pleasure fill’d the widow's breast, In Dinah's soul, she loved the hoards to view; When she reflected on the hoards possessid ; With lively joy those comforts she survey'd, But livelier joy inspired th' ambitious maid, And love grew languid in the careful maid. When she the purchase of those hoards display'd :
In small but splendid room she loved to see
That all was placed in view and harmony; Allagion is here made, not to the well known species
There, as with eager glance she look'd around, of sumach, called the poison-oak, or toxicodendron, but she much delight in every object found; to the upas, or poison tree of Java: whether it be real While books devout were near her—to destroy, or imaginary, this is no proper place for inquiry. Should it arise, an overflow of joy. 12
Within that fair apartment, guests might see We parted bless'd with health, and I am now The comforts cull'd for wealth by vanity:
Age-struck and feeble, so I find art thou; Around the room an Indian paper blazed,
Thine eye is sunken, furrow'd is thy face, With lively tint and figures boldly raised ; And downward look'st thou-so we run our race : Silky and soft upon the floor below,
And happier they, whose race is nearly run, Th' elastic carpet rose with crimson glow, Their troubles over, and their duties done." All things around implied both cost and care, " True, lady, true, we are not girl and boy ; What met the eye was elegant or rare :
But time has left us something to enjoy." Some curious trifles round the room were laid, What! thou hast learn’d my fortune ?-yes, I By hope presented to the wealthy maid ;
live Within a costly case of varnish'd wood,
To feel how poor the comforts wealth can give ; In level rows her polish'd volumes stood ; Thou too, perhaps, art wealthy; but our fate Shown as a favour to a chosen few,
Still mocks our wishes, wealth is come too late." To prove what beauty for a book could do:
“To me nor late nor early; I am come A silver urn with curious work was fraught; Poor as I left thee to my native home : A silver lamp from Grecian pattern wrought: Nor yet,” said Rupert, “ will I grieve ; 'tis mine Above her head, all gorgeous to behold,
To share thy comforts, and the glory thine ;
No! all my care is now to fit my mind
That we together may the change await,
Half angry, half in doubt, the lover gazed While vicious deeds are screen'd by fashion's name, On the meek maiden, by her speech amazed : And what was once our pride is now our shame. Dinah," said he, “ dost thou respect thy vows?
Dinah was musing, as her friends discoursed, What spousal mean'st thou ?-thou art Rupert's When these last words a sudden entrance forced
spouse ; Upon her mind, and what was once her pride The chance is mine to take, and thine to give; And now her shame, some painful views supplied ; But, trifling this, if we together live: Thoughts of the past within her bosom pressid, Can I believe, that, after all the past, And there a change was felt, and was consess'd : Our vows, our loves, thou wilt be false at last ? While thus the virgin strove with secret pain, Something thou hast-I know not what-in view , Her mind was wandering o'er the troubled main ; 1 find thee pious-let me find thee true.” Still she was silent, nothing seem'd to see, “Ah! cruel this; but do, my friend, depart, But sate and sigh'd in pensive revery.
And to its feelings leave my wounded heart." The friends prepared new subjects to begin, “ Nay, speak at once; and, Dinah, let me know, When tall Susannah, maiden starch, stalk'd in ; Mean'st thou to take me, now I'm wreck'd, in Not in her ancient mode, sedate and slow,
tow? As when she came, the mind she knew, to know; Be fair; nor longer keep me in the dark ; Nor as, when listening half an hour before, Am I forsaken for a trimmer spark? She twice or thrice tapp'd gently at the door; Heaven's spouse thou art not; nor can I believe But, all decorum cast in wrath aside,
That God accepts her who will man deceive: ** I think the devil's in the man !" she cried ; True I am shatter'd, I have service seen, "A huge tall sailor, with his tawny cheek, And service done, and have in trouble been ; And pitted face, will with my lady speak; My cheek (it shames me not) has lost its red, He grinn'd an ugly smile, and said he knew, And the brown buff is o'er my features spread; Please you, my lady, 'twould be joy to you ; Perchance my speech is rude; for I among What must I answer ?"-Trembling and distress'd Th' untamed have been, in temper and in tongue , Sank the pale Dinah, by her fears oppress'd ; Have been trepann'd, have lived in toil and care, When thus alarm’d, and brooking no delay, And wrought for wealth I was not doom'd to share. Swift to her room the stranger made his way, It touch'd me deeply, for I felt a pride " Revive, my love!" said he, “ I've done thee In gaining riches for my destined bride : harm,
Speak then my fate ; for these my sorrows past, Give me thy pardon," and he look'd alarm : Time lost, youth fled, hope wearied, and at last Meantime the prudent Dinah had contrived This doubt of thee-a childish thing to tell, Her soul to question, and she then revived. But certain truth-my very throat they swell; “See! my good friend," and then she raised her They stop the breath, and but for shame could I head,
Give way to weakness, and with passion cry ; “ The bloom of life, the strength of youth is fled; These are unmanly struggles, but I feel Living we die ; to us the world is dead;
This hour must end them, and perhaps will heal.'