Rural Tales, Ballads, and Songs | Page 6

WALTER'S
kinsman ere he died,
A hard-earn'd mite, deposited with care,
And
with a miser's spirit worshipt there.
He found what oft the generous
bosom seeks,
In the Dame's court'seys and JANE'S blushing cheeks,

That consciousness of Worth, that freeborn Grace,
Which waits on
Virtue in the meanest place.
The Difficulty remov'd
'Young Mon, I'll not apologize to you,
'Nor name intrusion, for my
news is true;
'Tis duty brings me here: your wants I've heard,
'And
can relieve: yet be the dead rever'd.
'Here, in this Purse, (what should
have cheer'd a Wife,)
'Lies, half the savings of your Uncle's life!
'I
know your history, and your wishes know;
'And love to see the seeds
of Virtue grow.
'I've a spare Shed that fronts the public road:
'Make
that your Shop; I'll make it your abode.
'Thus much from me,--the
rest is but your due.'
That instant twenty pieces sprung to view.

Goody, her dim eyes wiping, rais'd her brow,
And saw the young pair
look they knew not how;
Perils and Power while humble minds
forego,
Who gives them half a Kingdom gives them woe;
Comforts
may be procur'd and want defied,
Heav'ns! with how small a Sum,
when right applied!
How little of outward Good suffices for Happiness.

Give Love and honest Industry their way,
Clear but the Sun-rise of
Life's little day,
Those we term poor shall oft that wealth obtain,

For which th' ambitious sigh, but sigh in vain:
Wealth that still
brightens, as its stores increase;
The calm of Conscience, and the
reign of Peace.
Walter's enamour'd Soul, from news like this,
Now
felt the dawnings of his future bliss;
E'en as the Red-breast shelt'ring
in a bower,
Mourns the short darkness of a passing Shower,
Then,
while the azure sky extends around,
Darts on a worm that breaks the
moisten'd ground,
And mounts the dripping fence, with joy elate,

And shares the prize triumphant with his mate;
So did the Youth;--the
treasure straight became
An humble servant to Love's sacred flame;

Glorious subjection!--Thus his silence broke:
Joy gave him words;
still quick'ning as he spoke.
Joy above Wealth.
'Want was my dread, my wishes were but few;
Others might doubt,
but JANE those wishes knew:
This Gold may rid my heart of pains
and sighs;
But her true love is still my greatest prize,
Long as I live,
when this bright day comes round,
Beneath my Roof your noble
deeds shall sound;
But, first, to make my gratitude appear,
I'll shoe
your Honour's Horses for a Year;
If clouds should threaten when your
Corn is down,
I'll lend a hand, and summon half the town;
If good
betide, I'll sound it in my songs,
And be the first avenger of your
wrongs:
Though rude in manners, free I hope to live:
This Ale's not
mine, no Ale have I to give;
Yet, Sir, though Fortune frown'd when I
was born,
Let's drink eternal friendship from this Horn.
How much
our present joy to you we owe,
Soon our three Bells shall let the
Neighbours know;
Grateful frankness.
'The sound shall raise e'en stooping Age awhile,
'And every Maid
shall meet you with a smile;
'Long may you
live'--the wish like

lightning flew;
By each repeated as the 'Squire withdrew.
'Long
may you live,' his feeling heart rejoin'd;
Leaving well-pleas'd such
happy Souls behind.
Hope promis'd fair to cheer them to the end;

With Love their guide, and Goody for their friend.
[Illustration]
THE MILLER'S MAID.
A Tale.
Near the high road upon a winding stream
An honest Miller rose to
Wealth and Fame:
The noblest Virtues cheer'd his lengthen'd days,

And all the Country echo'd with his praise:
His Wife, the Doctress of
the neighb'ring Poor,
[Footnote: This village and the poor of this
neighbourhood know what it is to have possest such a blessing, and feel
at this moment what it is to lose it by death. C.L.
Troston, 13th of
September, 1801.]
Drew constant pray'rs and blessings round his
door.
The Tempest.
One Summer's night, (the hour of rest was come)
Darkness unusual
overspread their home;
A chilling blast was felt; the foremost cloud

Sprinkl'd the bubbling Pool; and thunder loud,
Though distant yet,
menac'd the country round,
And fill'd the Heavens with its solemn
sound.
Who can retire to rest when tempests lour?
Nor wait the
issue of the coming hour?
Meekly resign'd she sat, in anxious pain;

He fill'd his pipe, and listen'd to the rain
That batter'd furiously their
strong abode,
Roar'd in the Damm, and lash'd the pebbled road:

When, mingling with the storm, confus'd and wild,
They heard, or
thought they heard, a screaming Child:
The voice approach'd; and
midst the thunder's roar,
Now loudly begg'd for Mercy at the door.
MERCY was there: the Miller heard the call;
His door he open'd;

when a sudden squall
The Young Stranger.
Drove in a wretched Girl; who weeping stood,
Whilst the cold rain
dripp'd from her in a flood.
With kind officiousness the tender Dame

Rous'd up the dying embers to a flame;
Dry cloaths procur'd, and
cheer'd her shiv'ring guest,
And sooth'd the sorrows of her infant
breast.
But as she stript her shoulders, lily-white,
What marks of
cruel usage shock'd their sight!
Weals, and blue wounds, most piteous
to behold
Upon a Child yet scarcely Ten years old.
The Miller felt
his indignation rise,
Yet, as