Rural Tales, Ballads, and Songs | Page 4

dull hour's intolerable length.
The next had scarcely dawn'd
when Walter hied
O'er hill and dale, Affection for his guide:
O'er
the brown Heath his pathless journey lay,
Where screaming Lapwings
hail'd the op'ning day.
High rose the Sun, the anxious Lover sigh'd;

His slipp'ry soles bespoke the dew was dried:
Her last farewell hung
fondly on his tongue
As o'er the tufted Furze elate he sprung;

Trifling impediments; his heart was light,
For Love and Beauty
glow'd in fancy's sight;
And soon he gaz'd on Jane's enchanting face,

Renew'd his passion,--but, destroy'd his peace.
Truth, at whose
shrine he bow'd, inflicted pain;
And Conscience whisper'd, 'Never
come again.'
Self-Denial.
For now, his tide of gladness to oppose,
A clay-cold damp of doubts
and fears arose;
Clouds, which involve, midst Love and Reason's
strife,

The poor man's prospect when he takes a wife.
Though gay

his journeys in the Summer's prime,
Each seem'd the repetition of a
crime;
He never left her but with many a sigh,
When tears stole
down his face, she knew not why.
Severe his task those visits to
forego,
And feed his heart with voluntary woe.
Yet this he did; the
wan Moon circling found
His evenings cheerless, and his rest
unsound;
And saw th' unquenched flame his bosom swell:
What
were his doubts, thus let the Story tell
A month's sharp conflict only
serv'd to prove
The pow'r, as well as truth, of Walter's love.

Absence more strongly on his mind portray'd
His own sweet, injur'd,
unoffending Maid.
The renew'd Journey.
Once more he'd go; full resolute awhile,
But heard his native Bells on
every stile;
The sound recall'd him with a pow'rful charm,
The
Heath wide open'd, and the day was warm;
There, where a bed of
tempting green he found,
Increasing anguish weigh'd him to the
ground;
His well-grown limbs the scatter'd Daisies press'd,
While
his clinch'd hand fell heavy on his breast.
'Why do I go in cruel sport
to say,
"I love thee, Jane; appoint the happy day?"
'Why seek her
sweet ingenuous reply,
'Then grasp her hand and proffer--poverty?

'Why, if I love her and adore her name,
'Why act like time and
sickness on her frame?
'Why should my scanty pittance nip her prime,

'And chace away the Rose before its time?
'I'm young, 'tis true; the
world beholds me free;
'Labour ne'er show'd a frightful face to me;
Love of Prudence.
'Nature's first wants hard labour should supply;
'But should it fail,
'twill be too late to fly.
'Some Summers hence, if nought our loves
annoy,
'The image of my Jane may lisp her joy;
'Or, blooming boys
with imitative swing
'May mock my arm, and make the Anvil ring;

'Then if in rags.--But, O my heart, forbear,--

'I love the Girl, and why
should I despair?
'And that I love her all the village knows;
'Oft

from my pain the mirth of others flows;
'As when a neighbour's Steed
with glancing eye
'Saw his par'd hoof supported on my thigh:
'Jane
pass'd that instant; mischief came of course;
'I drove the nail awry
and lam'd the Horse;
'The poor beast limp'd: I bore a Master's frown,

'A thousand times I wish'd the wound my own.
'When to these
tangling thoughts I've been resign'd,
'Fury or languor has possess'd
my mind,
Recollections.
'All eyes have stared, I've blown a blast so strong;
'Forgot to smite at
all, or smote too long.
'If at the Ale-house door, with careless glee

'One drinks to Jane, and darts a look on me;
'I feel that blush which
her dear name will bring,
'I feel:--but, guilty Love, 'tis not thy sting!

'Yet what are jeers? the bubbles of an hour;
'Jane knows what Love
can do, and feels its pow'r;
'In her mild eye fair Truth her meaning
tells;
'Tis not in looks like her's that falsehood dwells.
'As water
shed upon a dusty way
'I've seen midst downward pebbles devious
stray;
'If kindred drops an adverse channel keep,
'The crystal friends
toward each other creep;
'Near, and still nearer, rolls each little tide,

'Th' expanding mirror swells on either side:
'They touch--'tis
done--receding bound'ries fly,
'An instantaneous union strikes the
eye:
The Interview.
'So 'tis with us: for Jane would be my bride;
'Shall coward fears then
turn the bliss aside?'
While thus he spoke he heard a gentle sound,

That seem'd a jarring footstep on the ground:
Asham'd of grief, he
bade his eyes unclose,
And shook with agitation as he rose;
All
unprepared the sweet surprise to bear;
His heart beat high, for Jane
herself was there.--
Flusht was her cheek; she seem'd the full-blown
flower,
For warmth gave loveliness a double power;
Round her fair
brow the deep confusion ran,
A waving handkerchief became her fan,


Her lips, where dwelt sweet love and smiling ease,
Puff'd gently
back the warm assailing breeze.
'I've travell'd all these weary miles
with pain,
'To see my native village once again;
'And show my true
regard for neighbour Hind;
'Not like you, Walter, she was always
kind.'
Resentment and Tenderness.
'Twas thus, each soft actuation laid aside,
She buoy'd her spirits up
with maiden pride;
Disclaimed her love, e'en while she felt the sting;

'What, come for Walter's sake!' 'Twas no such thing.
But when
astonishment his tongue releas'd,
Pride's usurpation in an instant
ceas'd:
By force he caught her hand as passing by,
And gaz'd upon
her half