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Who often reads, will sometimes wish to write,
And no employment but in seeking found;
He gave his restless thoughts to views refined, And Shore would yield instruction and delight:
And shrank from worldly cares with wounded mind. A serious drama he design’d, but found

Rejecting trade, awhile he dwelt on laws, 'Twas tedious travelling in that gloomy ground;
“ But who could plead, if unapproved the cause ?" A deep and solemn story he would try,
A doubting, dismal tribe physicians seein'd; But grew ashamed of ghosts, and laid it by;
Divines o'er texts and disputations dream'd; Sermons he wrote, but they who knew his creed,
War and its glory he perhaps could love,

Or knew it not, were ill disposed to read ;
But there again he must the cause approve.

And he would lastly be the nation's guide,
Our hero thought no deed should gain applause,

But, studying, fail'd to fix upon a side;
Where timid virtue found support in laws;

Fame he desired, and talents he possess'd,
He to all good would soar, would fly all sin,

But loved not labour, though he could not rest,
By the pure prompting of the will within ;

Nor firmly fix the vacillating mind,
“ Who needs a law that binds him not to steal," That, ever working, could no centre find.
Ask'd the young teacher, “ can he rightly feel? 'Tis thus a sanguine reader loves to trace
To curb the will, or arm in honour's cause,

The Nile forth rushing on his glorious race;
Or aid the weak—are these enforced by laws? Calm and secure the fancied traveller goes
Should we a foul, ungenerous action dread, Through sterile deserts and by threat'ning foes;
Because a law condemns th' adulterous bed?

He thinks not then of Afric's scorching sands,
Or fly pollution, not for fear of stain,

Th’ Arabian sea, the Abyssinian bands;
But that some statute tells us to refrain?

Fasils and Michaels, and the robbers all,
The grosser herd in ties like these we bind,

Whom we politely chiess and heroes call;
In virtue's freedom moves th' enlighten'd mind.” He of success alone delights to think,
“ Man's heart deceives him," said a friend: “ Of He views that fount, he stands upon the brink,

And drinks a fancied draught, exulting so to drink.
Replied the youth,“ but, has it power to force ? In his own room, and with his books around,
Unless it forces, call it as you will,

His lively mind its chief employment found;
It is but wish, and proneness to the ill.”

Then idly busy, quietly employ'd,
“Art thou not tempted ?" "Do I fall?" said Shore: And, lost to life, his visions were enjoy'd:
“The pure have fallen.” Then are pure no more:

Yet still he took a keen inquiring view
While reason guides me, I shall walk aright,

Of all that crowds neglect, desire, pursue ;
Nor need a steadier land, or stronger light;

And thus abstracted, curious, still, serene,
Nor this in dread of awful threats, design'd

He, unemploy'd, beheld life's shifting scene;
For the weak spirit and the grov'ling mind;

Still more averse from vulgar joys and cares,
But that, engaged by thoughts and views sublime, Still more unfitted for the world's affairs.
I wage free war with grossness and with crime.” There was a house where Edward oft times went,
Thus look'd he proudly on the vulgar crew,

And social hours in pleasant trifling spent;
Whom statutes govern, and whom fears subdue. He read, conversed and reason'd, sang and play'd,

Faith, with his virtue, he indeed profess'd, And all were happy while the idler stay'd:
But doubts deprived his ardent mind of rest; Too happy one, for thence arose the pain,
Reason, his sovereign mistress, fail'd to show Till this engaging triter came again.
Light through the mazes of the world below;

But did he love? We answer, day by day,
Questions arose, and they surpass'd the skill The loving feet would take th' accustom'd way,
Of his sole aid, and would be dubious still;

The amorous eye would rove as if in quest
These to discuss he sought no common guide, Of something rare, and on the mansion rest;
But to the doubters in his doubts applied;

The same soft passion touch'd the gentle tongue,
When all together might in freedom speak,

And Anna's charms in tender notes were sung;
And their loved truth with mutual ardour seek. The ear too seem'd to feel the common flame,
Alas! though men who feel their eyes decay Sooth'd and delighted with the fair one's name;
Take more than common pains to find their way, And thus as love each other part possess'd,
Yet, when for this they ask each other's aid, The heart, no doubt, its sovereign power confess'd.
Their mutual purpose is the more delay'd:

Pleased in her sight, the youth required no more;
Of all their doubts, their reasoning clear'd not one,

Not rich himself, he saw the damsel poor;
Still the same spots were present in the sun;

And he too wisely, nay, too kindly loved,
Still the same scruples haunted Edward's mind,

To pain the being whom his soul approved.
Who found no rest, nor took the means to find.

A serious friend our cautious youth possessid,
But though with shaken faith, and slave to fame,

And at his table sat a welcome guest;
Vain and aspiring on the world he came;

Both unemploy'd, it was their chief delight
Yet was he studious, serious, moral, grave,

To read what free and daring authors write;
No passion's victim, and no system's slave;

Authors who loved from common views to soar, Vice he opposed, indulgence he disdain'd,

And seek the fountains never traced before; And o'er each sense in conscious triumph reign'd.

Truth they prosess'd, yet often left the true

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And beaten prospect, for the wild and new.

Or, sitting, sang beneath the arbour's shade: His chosen friend his fiftieth year had seen,

Till rose the moon, and on each youthful face His fortune easy, and his air serene;

Shed a soft beauty, and a dangerous grace. Deist and atheist call'd; for few agreed

When the young wife beheld in long debete What were his notions, principles, or creed;

The friends, all careless as she seeming sate; His mind reposed not, for he hated rest,

It soon appear'd, there was in one combined But all things made a query or a jest;

The nobler person and the richer mind: Perplex'd himself, he ever sought to prove

He wore no wig, no grisly beard was seen, That man is doom'd in endless doubt to rove;

And none beheld him careless or unclean; Himself in darkness he profess'd to be,

Or watch'd him sleeping:-we indeed have heard And would maintain that not a man could see. Of sleeping beauty, and it has appear'd; The youthful friend, dissentient, reason'd still

'Tis seen in infants-there indeed we find Of the soul's prowess, and the subject will;

The features soften'd by the slumbering miod; Of virtue's beauty, and of honour's force,

But other beauties, when disposed to sleep, And a warm zeal gave life to his discourse: Should from the eye of keen inspector keep: Since from his feelings all his fire arose,

The lovely nymph who would her swain surprise, And he had interest in the themes he chose.

May close her mouth, but not conceal her eyes; The friend, indulging a sarcastic smile,

Sleep from the fairest face some beauty takes, Said—“Dear Enthusiast! thou wilt change thy style,

And all the homely features homelier makes; When man's delusions, errors, crimes, deceit, So thought our wife, beholding with a sigh No more distress thee, and no longer cheat." Her sleeping spouse, and Edward smiling by. Yet lo! this cautious man, so coolly wise,

A sick relation for the husband sent, On a young beauty fixt unguarded eyes;

Without delay the friendly sceptic went; And her he married: Edward at the view

Nor fear'd the youthful pair, for he had seen Bade to his cheerful visits long adieu ;

The wife untroubled, and the friend serene: But haply err'd, for this engaging bride

No selfish purpose in his roving eyes, No mirth suppress'd, but rather cause supplied:

No vile deception in her fond replies: And when she saw the friends, by reasoning long,

So judged the husband, and with judgment true, Confused if right, and positive if wrong,

For neither yet the guilt or danger knew. With playful speech and smile, that spoke delight,

What now remain’d: but they again should play She made them careless both of wrong and right.

Th’accustom'd game, and walk th' accustom'd way; This gentle damsel gave consent to wed,

With careless freedom should converse or read, With school and school-day dinners in her head: And the friend's absence neither fear nor need: She now was promised choice of daintiest food, But rather now they seem'd confused, constran'd; And costly dress, that made her sovereign good; Within their room still restless they remain'd, With walks on hilly heath to banish spleen, And painfully they felt, and knew each other And summer-visits when the roads were clean.

pain'd.All these she loved, to these she gave consent,

Ah! foolish '

men! how could ye thus depend, And she was married to her heart's content.

One on himself, the other on his friend! Their manner this—the friends together read, The youth with troubled eye the lady sam, Till books a cause for disputation bred;

Yet felt too brave, too daring to withdraw; Debate then follow'd, and the vapour'd child

While she, with tuneless hand the jarring keys Declared they argued till her head was wild; Touching, was not one moment at her esse: And strange to her it was that mortal brain

Now would she walk, and call her frieodly guide, Could seek the trial, or endure the pain.

Now speak of rain, and cast her eloke aside; Then as the friend reposed, the younger pair

Seize on a book, unconscious what she read, Sat down to cards, and play'd beside his chair; And restless still, to new resources fled; Till he awaking, to his books applied,

Then laugh'd aloud, then tried to look serene, Or heard the music of th' obedient bride:

And ever changed, and every change was seen. If mild the evening, in the fields they stray'd,

Painful it is to dwell on deeds of shameAnd their own flock with partial eye survey'd;

The trying day was past, another came; But oft the husband, to indulgence prone,

The third was all remorse, confusion, dread, Resumed his book, and bade them walk alone. And (all too late !) the fallen hero fled. “ Do, my kind Edward ! I must take mine ease,

Then felt the youth, in that seducing time, Name the dear girl the planets and the trees;

How feebly honour guards the heart from crime: Tell her what warblers pour their evening song,

Small is his native strength; What insects flutter, as you walk along;

The strength imparted in the trying day; Teach her to fix the roving thoughts, to bind For all that honour brings against the force The wandering sense, and methodize the mind." of headlong passion, aids its rapid course;

This was obey'd; and oft when this was done, Its slight resistance but provokes the fire, [higher. They calmly gazed on the declining sun;

As wood-work stops the fame, and then convenit In silence saw the glowing landscape fade,

The husband came; a wife by guilt made bold

man needs the stay,

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Now prone,

Had, meeting, sooth'd him, as in days of old; Fate and fore-knowledgewere his favourite themes-
But soon this fact transpir’d; her strong distress, How vain man's purpose, how absurd his schemes:
And his friend's absence, left him nought to guess. “ Whatever is, was ere our birth decreed;
Still cool, though grieved, thus prudence bade We think our actions from ourselves proceed,
him write-

And idly we lament th' inevitable deed; “ I cannot pardon, and I will not fight;

It seems our own, but there's a power above Thou art too poor a culprit for the laws,

Directs the motion, nay, that makes us move; And I too faulty to support my cause:

Nor good nor evil can you beings name, All must be punish'd; I must sigh alone,

Who are but rooks and castles in the game; At home thy victim for her guilt atone ;

Superior natures with their puppets play, And thou, unhappy! virtuous now no more, Till, bagg'd or buried, all are swept away.” Must loss of fame, peace, purity deplore;

Such were the notions of a mind to ill Sinners with praise will pierce thee to the heart,

but ardent, and determined still: And saints deriding, tell thee what thou art." Of joy now eager, as before of fame,

Such was his fall; and Edward, from that time, And screen'd by folly when assail'd by shame, Felt in full force the censure and the crime

Deeply he sank; obey'd each passion's call,
Despised, ashamed; his noble views before,

And used his reason to defend them all.
And bis proud thoughts, degraded him the more: Shall I proceed, and step by step relate
Should he repent-would that conceal his shame? The odious progress of a sinner's fate?
Could peace be his? It perish'd with his fame: No-let me rather hasten to the time
Himself he scorn'd, nor could his crime forgive; (Sure to arrive) when misery waits on crime.
He feard to die, yet felt ashamed to live:

With virtue, prudence fled; what Shore possess'd Grieved, but not contrite was his heart; oppressid, Was sold, was spent, and he was now distress'd: Not broken; not converted, but distress'd;

And want, unwelcome stranger, pale and wan, He wanted will to bend the stubborn knee,

Met with her haggard looks the hurried man; He wanted light the cause of ill to see,

His pride felt keenly what he must expect, To learn how frail is man, how humble then should From useless pity and from cold neglect. For faith he had not, or a faith too weak [be; Struck by new terrors, from his friends he fled, To gain the help that humbled sinners seek; And wept his woes upon a restless bed; Else had he pray'd—to an offended God

Retiring late, at early hour to rise, His tears had flown a penitential flood;

With shrunken features, and with bloodshot eyes: Though far astray, he would have heard the call If sleep one moment closed the dismal view, Of mercy—“ Come! return, thou prodigal;" Fancy her terrors built upon the true; Then, though confused, distress'd, ashamed, afraid, And night and day had their alternate woes, Still had the trembling penitent obey'd ;

That baffled pleasure, and that mock'd repose; Though faith had fainted, when assail'd by fear, Till to despair and anguish was consign'd Hope to the soul had whisper'd,“ Persevere !" The wreck and ruin of a noble mind. Till in his father's house an humbled guest,

Now seized for debt, and lodged within a jail, He would have found forgiveness, comfort, rest. He tried his friendships, and he found them fail; But all this joy was to our youth denied

Then fail'd his spirits, and his thoughts were all By his fierce passions and his daring pride;

Fix'd on his sins, his sufferings, and his fall: And shame and doubt impellid bim in a course, His ruffled mind was pictured in his face, Once so abhorr'd, with unresisted force.

Once the fair seat of dignity and grace: Proud minds and guilty, whom their crimes oppress,

Great was the danger of a man so prone Fly to new crimes for comfort and redress;

To think of madness, and to think alone; So found our fallen youth a short relief

Yet pride still liv'd, and struggled to sustain In wine, the opiate guilt applies to grief,

The drooping spirit and the roving brain; From fleeting mirth that o'er the bottle lives, But this too fail'd: a friend his freedom gave, From the false joy its inspiration gives;

And sent him help the threat'ning world to brave; And from associates pleased to find a friend, Gave solid counsel what to seek or flee, With powers to lead them, gladden, and defend, But still would stranger to his person be: In all those scenes where transient ease is found, In vain! the truth determined to explore, For minds whom sins oppress, and sorrows wound. He traced the friend whom he had wrong'd before. Wine is like anger; for it makes us strong,

This was too much; both aided and advised Blind and impatient, and it leads us wrong; By one who shunn'd him, pitied, and despised: The strength is quickly lost, we feel the error long: He bore it not; 'twas a deciding stroke, Thus led, thus strengthen’d in an evil cause, And on his reason like a torrent broke: For folly pleading, sought the youth applause; In dreadful stillness he appear'd awhile, Sad for a time, then eloquently wild,

With vacant horror and a ghastly smile; He gaily spoke as his companions smiled;

Then rose at once into the frantic rage, Lightly he rose, and with his former grace

That force controll'd not, nor could love assuage. Proposed some doubt, and argued on the case ; Friends now appear'd, but in the man was seen,

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'The angry maniac, with vindictive mien ;

There beauty sparkled, and there health reposed; Too late their pity gave to care and skill

For the pure blood that flush'd that rosy cheek The hurried mind and ever-wandering will; Spoke what the heart forbad the tongue to speak; Unnoticed pass'd all time, and not a ray

And told the feelings of that heart as well, Of reason broke on his benighted way;

Nay, with more candour than the tongue could teil: But now he spurn'd the straw in pure disdain, Though this fair lass had with the wealthy dweil And now laugh'd loudly at the clinking chain. Yet like the damsel of the cot she felt; Then as its wrath subsided, by degrees

And, at the distant hint or dark surmise, The mind sank slowly to infantine ease;

The blood into the mantling cheek would rise. To playful folly, and to causeless joy,

Now Anna's station frequent terrors wrought Speech without aim, and without end, employ; In one whose looks were with such meaning fracçit; He drew fantastic figures on the wall,

For on a lady, as an humble friend, And gave some wild relation of them all;

It was her painful office to attend. With brutal shape he join'd the human face,

Her duties here were of the usual kindAnd idiot smiles approved the motley race.

And some the body harassid, some the miod: Harmless at length th' unhappy man was found, Billets she wrote, and tender stories read, The spirit settled, but the reason drown'd;

To make the lady sleepy in her bed; And all the dreadful tempest died away,

She play'd at whist, but with inferior skill, To the dull stillness of the misty day.

And heard the summons as a call to drill; And now his freedom he attain'd-if free,

Music was ever pleasant till she play'd
The lost to reason, truth, and hope, can be;

At a request that no request convey'd;
His friends, or wearied with the charge, or sure The lady's tales with anxious looks she heard,
The harmless wretch was now beyond a cure, For she must witness what her friend arerrid;
Gave him to wander where he pleased, and find The lady's taste she must in all approre,
His own resources for the eager mind;

Hate whom she hated, whom she loved most love; The playful children of the place he meets, These, with the various duties of her place, Playful with them he rambles through the streets; With care she studied, and perform'd with grace; In all they need, his stronger arm he lends,

She veil'd her troubles in a mask of ease, And his lost mind to these approving friends. And show'd her pleasure was a power to please.

That gentle maid, whom once the youth had loved, Such were the damsel's duties; she was poorIs now with mild religious pity moved;

Above a servant, but with service more: Kindly she chides his boyish fights, while he Men on her face with careless freedom gazed, Will for a moment fix'd and pensive be;

Nor thought how painful was the glow they ras'd;
And as she trembling speaks, his lively eyes A wealthy few to gain her favour tried,
Explore her looks, he listens to her sighs;

But not the favour of a grateful bride;
Charm'd by her voice, th' harmonious sounds invade They spoke their purpose with an easy air,
His clouded mind, and for a time persuade: That shamed and frighten'd the dependent far:
Like a pleased infant, who has newly caught Past time she view'd, the passing time to chest,
From the maternal glance a gleam of thought; But nothing found to make the present sweet;
He stands enrapt, the half-known voice to hear, With pensive soul she read life's future page,
And starts, half-conscious, at the falling tear. And saw dependent, poor, repining age.

Rarely from town, nor then unwatch'd, he goes, But who shall dare t'assert what years may briag, In darker mood, as if to hide his woes ;

When wonders from the passing hour may spring? Returning soon, he with impatience seeks

There dwelt a yeoman in the place, whose mind His youthful friends, and shouts, and sings, and Was gentle, generous, cultivated, kind; speaks;

For thirty years he labour'd; fortune then
Speaks a wild speech with action all as wild- Placed the mild rustic with superior men:
The children's leader, and himself a child;

A richer Stafford who had lived to save,
He spins their top, or, at their bidding, bends What he had treasured to the poorer gare;
His back, while o'er it leap his laughing friends; Who with a sober mind that treasure view'd,
Simple and weak, he acts the boy once more, And the slight studies of his youth renew'd:
And heedless children call him Silly Shore.

He not profoundly, but discreetly read,
And a fair mind with useful culture fed;

Then thought of marriage—“But the great," said be,

“ I shall not suit, nor will the meaner me:"

Anna he saw, admired her modest air;

He thought her virtuous, and he knew her fair;
Anna was young and lovely-in her eye

Love raised his pity for her humble state, The glance of beauty, in her cheek the dye; And prompted wishes for her happier fate; Her shape was slender, and her features small,

No pride in money would his feelings wound, But graceful, easy, unaffected all:

Nor vulgar manners hurt him and confound : The liveliest tints her youthful face disclosed, He then the lady at the hall address'd,


Sought her consent, and his regard express'd;

But, lost in troubles of his own, complied; Yet if some cause his earnest wish denied,

And dear Eliza to her friend was sent, He begg'd to know it, and he bow'd and sigh’d. T'indulge that wish, and be her punishment:

The lady own'd that she was loth to part, The time arrived, and brought a tenfold dread; But prais'd the damsel for her gentle heart,

The time was past, and all the terror fled ; Her pleasing person, and her blooming health ; The infant died; the face resumed each charm, But ended thus, “ Her virtue is her wealth." And reason now brought trouble and alarm: “ Then is she rich !” he cried, with lively air;

“ Should her Eliza, no! she was too just, “ But whence, so please you, came a lass so fair?" Too good and kind—but ah! too young to trust."

“ A placeman's child was Anna, one who died Anna return'd, her former place resumed, And left a widow by afflictions tried;

And faded beauty with new grace re-bloom’d; She to support her infant daughter strove,

And if some whispers of the past were heard, But early left the object of her love;

They died innoxious, as no cause appear’d; Her youth, her beauty, and her orphan-state, But other cares on Anna's bosom press'd, Gave a kind countess interest in her fate;

She saw her father gloomy and distress'd; With her she dwelt, and still might dwelling be,

He died o'erwhelm'd with debt, and soon was shed When the earl's folly caused the lass to flee; The filial sorrow o'er a mother dead: A second friend was she compellid to shun, She sought Eliza's arms, that faithfulfriend was wed; By the rude offers of an uncheck'd son ;

Then was compassion by the countess shown, I found her then, and with a mother's love

And all th' adventures of her life are known. Regard the gentle girl whom you approve;

And now beyond her hopes-no longer tried Yet, e'en with me protection is not peace,

By slavish awe-she lived a yeoman's bride; Nor man's designs, nor beauty's trial, cease;

Then bless'd her lot, and with a grateful mind Like sordid boys by costly fruit they feel,

Was careful, cheerful, vigilant, and kind: They will not purchase, but they try to steal.” The gentle husband felt supreme delight, Now this good lady, like a witness true,

Bless’d by her joy, and happy in her sight;
Told but the truth, and all the truth she knew; He saw with pride in every friend and guest
And 'tis our duty and our pain to show

High admiration and regard express'd:
Truth, this good lady had not means to know. With greater pride, and with superior joy,
Yes, there was lock'd within the damsel's breast He look'd exulting on his first-born boy;
A fact important to be now confess'd;

To her fond breast the wife her infant strain'd, Gently, my Muse, th' afflicting tale relate, Some feelings utter'd, some were not explain'd; And have some feeling for a sister's fate.

And she enraptured with her treasure grew, Where Anna dwelt, a conquering hero came,- The sight familiar, but the pleasure new. An Irislı captain, Sedley was his name;

Yet there appear'd within that tranquil state And he too had that same prevailing art,

Some threat’ning prospect of uncertain fate; That gave soft wishes to the virgin's heart:

Between the married when a secret lies, In years they differ’d; he had thirty seen,

It wakes suspicion from enforc'd disguise: When this young beauty counted just fifteen; Still thought the wise upon her absent friend, But still they were a lovely lively pair,

With all that must upon her truth depend; And trod on earth as if they trod on air.

“ There is no being in the world beside, On love, delightful theme! the captain dwelt Who can discover what that friend will hide; With force still growing with the hopes he felt;

Who knew the fact, knew not my name or state, But with some caution and reluctance told,

Who these can tell cannot the fact relate; He had a father crafty, harsh, and old;

But thou, Eliza, canst the whole impart, Who, as possessing much, would much expect, And all my safety is thy generous heart." (theseOr both, for ever, from his love reject:

Mix'd with these fears—but light and transient Why then offence to one so powerful give,

Fled years of peace, prosperity, and ease ; Who (for their comfort) had not long to live? So tranquil all that scarce a gloomy day

With this poor prospect the deluded maid, For days of gloom unmix'd prepared the way: In words confiding, was indeed betray'd ;

One eve, the wife, still happy in her state, And, soon as terrors in her bosom rose,

Sang gaily, thoughtless of approaching fate; The hero fied; they hinder'd his repose.

Then came a letter, that (received in dread Deprived of him, she to a parent's breast

Not unobserved) she in confusion read; Her secret trusted, and her pains impress’d: The substance this—" Her friend rejoiced to find Let her to town (so prudence urged) repair, That she had riches with a grateful mind; To shun disgrace, at least to hide it there;

While poor Eliza had from place to place Bat ere she went, the luckless damsel pray'd Been lured by hope to labour for disgrace; A chosen friend might lend her timely aid: That every scheme her wandering husband tried * Yes! my soul's sister, my Eliza, come,

Pain'd while he liv’d, and perish'd when he died." Hear her last sigh, and ease thy Anna's doom:" She then of want in angry style complain'd, “ 'Tis a fool's wish,” the angry father cried, Her child a burthen to her life remain'd,

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