The Parish Register | Page 8

for the world were fit,?He'd no small cunning, and had some small wit;?Had that calm look which seem'd to all assent,?And that complacent speech which nothing meant:?He'd but one care, and that he strove to hide -?How best for Richard Monday to provide.?Steel, through opposing plates, the magnet draws,?And steely atoms culls from dust and straws;?And thus our hero, to his interest true,?Gold through all bars and from each trifle drew;?But still more surely round the world to go,?This fortune's child had neither friend nor foe.
Long lost to us, at last our man we trace, -?"Sir Richard Monday died at Monday Place:"?His lady's worth, his daughter's, we peruse,?And find his grandsons all as rich as Jews:?He gave reforming charities a sum,?And bought the blessings of the blind and dumb;?Bequeathed to missions money from the stocks,?And Bibles issued from his private box;?But to his native place severely just,?He left a pittance bound in rigid trust; -?Two paltry pounds, on every quarter's-day,?(At church produced) for forty loaves should pay;?A stinted gift that to the parish shows?He kept in mind their bounty and their blows!
To farmers three, the year has given a son,?Finch on the Moor, and French, and Middleton.?Twice in this year a female Giles I see,?A Spalding once, and once a Barnaby: -?A humble man is HE, and when they meet,?Our farmers find him on a distant seat;?There for their wit he serves a constant theme, -?"They praise his dairy, they extol his team,?They ask the price of each unrivall'd steed,?And whence his sheep, that admirable breed.?His thriving arts they beg he would explain,?And where he puts the money he must gain.?They have their daughters, but they fear their friend?Would think his sons too much would condescend: -?They have their sons who would their fortunes try,?But fear his daughters will their suit deny."?So runs the joke, while James, with sigh profound,?And face of care, looks moveless on the ground;?His cares, his sighs, provoke the insult more,?And point the jest--for Barnaby is poor.
Last in my list, five untaught lads appear;?Their father dead, compassion sent them here, -?For still that rustic infidel denied?To have their names with solemn rite applied:?His, a lone house, by Deadman's Dyke-way stood;?And his a nightly haunt, in Lonely-wood:?Each village inn has heard the ruffian boast,?That he believed "in neither God nor ghost;?That when the sod upon the sinner press'd,?He, like the saint, had everlasting rest;?That never priest believed his doctrines true,?But would, for profit, own himself a Jew,?Or worship wood and stone, as honest heathen do;?That fools alone on future worlds rely,?And all who die for faith deserve to die."
These maxims,--part th' Attorney's Clerk profess'd,?His own transcendent genius found the rest.?Our pious matrons heard, and, much amazed,?Gazed on the man, and trembled as they gazed;?And now his face explored, and now his feet,?Man's dreaded foe in this bad man to meet:?But him our drunkards as their champion raised,?Their bishop call'd, and as their hero praised:?Though most, when sober, and the rest, when sick,?Had little question whence his bishopric.
But he, triumphant spirit! all things dared;?He poach'd the wood, and on the warren snared;?'Twas his, at cards, each novice to trepan,?And call the want of rogues "the rights of man;"?Wild as the winds he let his offspring rove,?And deem'd the marriage-bond the bane of love.
What age and sickness, for a man so bold,?Had done, we know not;--none beheld him old;?By night, as business urged, he sought the wood; -?The ditch was deep,--the rain had caused a flood, -?The foot-bridge fail'd,--he plunged beneath the deep,?And slept, if truth were his, th'eternal sleep.
These have we named; on life's rough sea they sail,?With many a prosperous, many an adverse gale!?Where passion soon, like powerful winds, will rage,?And prudence, wearied, with their strength engage:?Then each, in aid, shall some companion ask,?For help or comfort in the tedious task;?And what that help--what joys from union flow,?What good or ill, we next prepare to show;?And row, meantime, our weary bark to shore,?As Spenser his--but not with Spenser's oar. {2}
PART II.
Nubere si qua voles, quamvis properabitis ambo,?Differ; habent parvae commoda magna morae.
OVID, Fasti, lib.iii.
MARRIAGES.
Previous Consideration necessary: yet not too long Delay--Imprudent Marriage of old Kirk and his Servant--Comparison between an ancient and youthful Partner to a young Man--Prudence of Donald the Gardener--Parish Wedding: the compelled Bridegroom: Day of Marriage, how spent--Relation of the Accomplishments of Phoebe Dawson, a rustic Beauty: her Lover: his Courtship: their Marriage--Misery of Precipitation--The wealthy Couple: Reluctance in the Husband; why?--Unusually fair Signatures in the Register: the common Kind--Seduction of Lucy Collins by Footman Daniel: her rustic Lover: her Return to him--An ancient Couple: Comparisons on the Occasion--More pleasant View of Village Matrimony: Farmers celebrating the Day of Marriage: their Wives--Reuben and Rachael, a happy Pair: an example of prudent Delay--Reflections on their State who were not so prudent, and its Improvement towards