"bis inferior. His father, a hard old man, who had by "his toil acquired a handfome competency, expected and re

quired that his for should marry fuitably. But, as amor "vincit omnia, his heart was unalterably fixed on the "pretty young creature already named. Their courtship. "which was all by stealth, unknown to the family, con"tinued about a year. When it was found out, old Wright"fon, his wife, and particularly their crooked daughter "Hannah, flouted at the maiden, and treated her with "notable contempt: for they held it as a maxim, and a "ruftic one it is, that blood was nothing without groats.

"The young lover fickened, and took to his bed about "Shrove-tuefday, and died the Sunday fevennight after.

"On the last day of his illness, he defired to fee his miftrefs: he was civily received by the mother, who bid "her welcome-when it was too late. But her daughter "Hannah lay at his back to cut them off from all opportunity of exchanging their thoughts.

696

"At her return home, on hearing the bell to toll out for "his departure, she screamed aloud that her heart was burst, and expired fome moments after.

66

"The then curate of* Bowes inferted it in his register, "that they both died of love, and were buried in the fame 46 grave, March 15, 1714. I am,

"Dear fir,

"Yours, &c.

* Bowes is a fmall village in Yorkshire, where in former ages the earls of Richmond had a caftle. It stands on the edge of that vaft and mountanious tract, named by the neighbouring people Stanemore; which is always expofed to wind and weather, defolate and folitary throughout. Camd. Brit.

FAR Faft by a fheltering wood,

AR in the windings of a vale,

The fafe retreat of Health and Peace,
An humble cottage ftood.

There beauteous Emma flourish'd fair,
Beneath a mother's eye;
Whofe only wish on earth was now
To fee her bleft, and die.

The fofteft blufh that nature spreads
Gave colour to her cheek:

Such orient colour fmiles thro' heaven
When May's fweet mornings break.

Nor let the pride of

great ones fcorn This charmer of the plains:

That fun who bids their diamond blaze, To paint our lilly deigns.

Long had the fill'd each youth with love,
Each maiden with despair;

And tho' by all a wonder own'd,
Yet knew not fhe was fair.

Till Edwin came, the pride of fwains,
A foul that knew no art;
And from whofe eye, ferenely mild,
Shone forth the feeling heart.

A mutual flame was quickly caught;
Was quickly too reveal'd:

For neither bofom lodg'd a wifh,
That virtue keeps conceal'd.

What happy hours of home-felt blifs
Did love on both bestow!
But blifs too mighty long to last,
Where fortune proves a foe.

His fifter, who, like Envy form'd,
Like her in mifchief joy'd,

To work them harm, with wicked skill,
Each darker art employ'd.

The father too, a fordid man,
Who love nor pity knew,
Was all-unfeeling as the clod,
From whence his riches grew.

Long had he feen their fecret flame,
And feen it long unmov'd:
Then with a father's frown at last
Had fternly difapprov❜d.

In Edwin's gentle heart, a war
Of different paffions ftrove:
His heart, that durft not difobey,
Yet could not ceafe to love.

Deny'd her fight, he oft behind
The fpreading hawthorn crept,
To fnatch a glance, to mark the spot
Where Emma walk'd and wept.

Oft too on Stanemore's wintry waste,
Beneath the moonlight-fhade,
In fighs to pour his foften'd foul,
The midnight-mourner stray'd,

His check, where health with beauty glow'd,
A deadly pale o'ercaft:

So fades the frefh rofe in its prime,
Before the northern blaft.

The parents now, with late remorse,
Hung o'er his dying bed;

And weary'd heaven with fruitless vows,
And fruitlefs forrow fhed.

'Tis paft! he cry'd-but if your fouls
Sweet mercy yet can move,
Let thefe dim eyes once more behold,
What they must ever love!

She came ; his cold hand foftly touch'd,
And bath'd with many a tear:
Faft-falling o'er the primrose pale,
So morning-dews appear.

But oh! his fifter's jealous care

A cruel fifter fhe!

Forbade what Emma came to fay;

"My Edwin live for me."

Now homeward as fhe hopeless wept
The church-yard path along,

The blaft blew cold, the dark owl fcream'd
Her lover's funeral fong.

Amid the falling gloom of night,

Her ftartling fancy found

In every bush his hovering fhade,
His groan in every found.

Alone, appal'd, thus had fhe past
The vifionary vale-

When lo! the death-bell fmote her ear,
Sad-founding in the gale!

Juft then she reach'd, with trembling step,
Her aged mother's door-
He's gone! fhe cry'd; and I fhall fee
That angel-face no more!

I feel, I feel this breaking heart
Beat high against my fide-

From her white arm down funk her head;
She fhivering figh'd, and died.