Wild Flowers | Page 8

his seat, each neighbour's face he knew--
The stranger girl
was just before his pew!
He saw her kneel, with meek, but cheerful
air,
And whisper the response to every prayer;
And, when the
humble roof with praises rung,
He caught the Hallelujah from her
tongue,
Rememb'ring with delight the tears that fell
When the poor
father bade his child farewell;
Love strengthened by Reflection.
And now, by kindling tenderness beguil'd,
He blest the prompt
obedience of that child,
And link'd his fate with hers:--for, from that
day,
Whether the weeks past cheerily away,
Or deep revolving
doubts procur'd him pain,
The same bells chim'd--and there she was
again!
What could be done? they came not there to woo,
On holy
ground,--though love is holy too.
They met upon the foot-bridge one clear morn,
She in the garb by
village lasses worn;
He, with unbutton'd frock that careless flew,

And buskin'd to resist the morning dew;
With downcast look she
courtsied to the ground,
Just in his path--no room to sidle round.
An Interview.
"Well, pretty girl, this early rising yields
The best enjoyment of the
groves and fields,
And makes the heart susceptible and meek,
And
keeps alive that rose upon your cheek.
I long'd to meet you, Peggy,
though so shy,
I've watch'd your steps and learn'd your history;
You
love your poor lame father, let that be
A happy presage of your love
for me.
Come then, I'll stroll these meadows by your side,
I've seen
enough to wish you for my bride,
And plainly tell you so.--Nay, let
me hold
This guiltless hand, I prize it more than gold;
Of that I
have my share, but now pursue
Such lasting wealth as I behold in you.

My lands are fruitful and my gardens gay,
My houshold cheerful as

the summer's day;
One blessing more will crown my happy life,

Like Adam, pretty girl, I want a wife."
Frequent Meetings.--Family Pride.
Need it be told his suit was not denied,
With youth, and wealth, and
candour on his side
Honour took charge of love so well began,
And
accidental meetings, one by one,
Increas'd so fast midst time's
unheeded flight,
That village rumour married them outright;

Though wiser matrons, doubtful in debate,
Pitied deluded Peggy's
hapless fate.
Friends took th' alarm, "And will he then disgrace

"The name of Brooks with this plebeian race?"
Others, more lax in
virtue, not in pride,
Sported the wink of cunning on one side;
"He'll
buy, no doubt, what Peggy has to sell,
A little gallantry becomes him
well."
Meanwhile the youth with self-determin'd aim,
Disdaining
fraud, and pride's unfeeling claim,
Marriage proposed
Above control pursued his generous way,
And talk'd to Peggy of the
marriage day.
Poor girl! she heard, with anguish and with doubt,

What her too knowing neighbours preach'd about,
That Herbert
would some nobler match prefer,
And surely never, never marry her;

Yet, with what trembling and delight she bore
The kiss, and heard
the vow, "I'll doubt no more;"
"Protect me Herbert, for your honour's
sake
You will," she cried, "nor leave my heart to break."
Then
wrote to uncle Gilbert, joys, and fears,
And hope, and trust, and
sprinkled all with tears.
Rous'd was the dormant spirit of the brave,
E'en lameness rose to
succour and to save;
For, though they both rever'd young Herbert's
name,
And knew his unexceptionable fame;
Doubts.--Parental Feelings.

And though the girl had honestly declar'd
Love's first approaches, and
their counsel shar'd,
Yet, that he truly meant to take for life
The
poor and lowly Peggy for a wife;
Or, that she was not doom'd to be
deceiv'd,
Was out of bounds:--it could not be believ'd.
"Go, Gilbert;
save her; I, you know, am lame;
Go, brother, go; and save my child
from shame.
Haste, and I'll pray for your success the while,
Go,
go;"--then bang'd his crutch upon the stile:--
It snapt.--E'en Gilbert
trembled while he smote,
Then whipt the broken end beneath his coat;

"Aye, aye, I'll settle them; I'll let them see
Who's to be conqu'ror
this time, I or he!"
[Illustration: two men at a stile.]
Gilbert on the Road!--An Adventure.
Then off he set, and with enormous strides,
Rebellious mutterings
and oaths besides,
O'er clover-field and fallow, bank and brier,

Pursu'd the nearest cut, and fann'd the fire
That burnt within
him.--Soon the Hall he spied,
And the grey willows by the water side;

Nature cried "halt!" nor could he well refuse;
Stop, Gilbert, breathe
awhile, and ask the news.
"News?" cried a stooping grandame of the
vale,
Aye, rare news too; I'll tell you such a tale;
But let me rest;
this bank is dry and warm;
Do you know Peggy Meldrum at the farm?

Young Herbert's girl? He'as cloath'd her all in white.
You never
saw so beautiful a sight!
Ah! he's a fine young man, and such a face!

I knew his grandfather and all his race;
He rode a tall white horse,
and look'd so big,
But how shall I describe his hat and wig?"
A promising Story cut short.
"Plague take his wig," cried Gilbert, "and his hat,
Where's Peggy
Meldrum? can you tell me that?"
"Aye; but have patience man, you'll
hear anon,
For I shall come to her as I go on,
So hark 'ye friend; his
grandfather I say,"--
"Poh, poh,"--cried Gilbert, as he turn'd away.


Her eyes were fix'd,