She spoke of household works, she rose betimes,
And said neglect and indolence were crimes;
The various duties of their life she weigh'd,
And strict attention to her dairy paid;
The names of servants now familiar grew,
And fair Lucinda's from her mind withdrew;
As prudent travellers for their ease assume
Their modes and language to whose lands they

come:

So to the Farmer this fair Lass inclined,

Gave to the business of the Farm her mind;
To useful arts she turn'd her hand and eye;
And by her manners told him—" You may try."

Th' observing Lover more attention paid,
With growing pleasure, to the alter'd maid;
He fear'd to lose her, and began to see
That a slim beauty might a helpmate be:
'Twixt hope and fear he now the lass address'd,
And in his Sunday robe his love express'd:
She felt no chilling dread, no thrilling joy,
Nor was too quickly kind, too slowly coy;
But still she lent an unreluctant ear

To all the rural business of the

year;

Till love's strong hopes endured no more delay,
And Harry ask'd, and Nancy named the day.

"A happy change! my Boy," the father cried: "How lost your sister all her school-day pride?" The Youth replied, "It is the Widow's deed; "The cure is perfect, and was wrought with speed."

"And comes there, Boy, this benefit of books, "Of that smart dress, and of those dainty looks? "We must be kind—some offerings from the Farm "To the White Cot will speak our feelings warm; "Will show that people, when they know the fact, "Where they have judged severely, can retract. "Oft have I smiled, when I beheld her pass "With cautious step, as if she hurt the grass; "Where, if a snail's retreat she chanced to storm, "She look'd as begging pardon of the worm; "And what, said I, still laughing at the view, "Have these weak creatures in the world to do? "But some are made for action, some to speak; "And, while she looks so pitiful and meek, "Her words are weighty, though her nerves are weak."

Soon told the village-bells the rite was done, That join'd the school-bred Miss and Farmer's Son; Her former habits some slight scandal raised, But real worth was soon perceived and praised; She, her neat taste imparted to the Farm, And he, th' improving skill and vigorous arm.

(1) ['The Widow's Tale' is rather of the facetious order. It contains the history of a farmer's daughter, who comes home from boardingschool a great deal too fine to tolerate the gross habits, or submit to the filthy drudgery, of her father's house; but is induced, by the warning history and sensible exhortations of a neighbouring Widow, in whom she expected to find a sentimental companion, to reconcile herself to all those abominations, and marry a jolly young farmer in the neighbourhood. The account of her horrors, on first coming down, is in Mr. Crabbe's best style of Dutch painting- a little coarse, and needlessly minute-but perfectly true, and marvellously coloured. — JEFFREY.]

TALE VIII.

THE MOTHER.

What though you have beauty,

Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? As You Like It.

I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed. As You Like It.

Wilt thou love such a woman? and play false strains upon thee!

What! to make thee an instrument,
Not to be endured. As You Like It.

Your son,

As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her estimation hence.

All's Well that Ends Well.

Be this sweet Helen's knell;

He left a wife whose words all ears took captive,

Whose dear perfections hearts that scorn'd to serve
Humbly call'd Mistress.

All's Well that Ends Well.

TALE VIII.

THE MOTHER.

THERE was a worthy, but a simple Pair,
Who nursed a Daughter, fairest of the fair:
Sons they had lost, and she alone remain'd,
Heir to the kindness they had all obtain❜d;
Heir to the fortune they design'd for all,
Nor had th' allotted portion then been small;
But now, by fate enrich'd with beauty rare,
They watch'd their treasure with peculiar care:
The fairest features they could early trace,
And, blind with love, saw merit in her face.
Saw virtue, wisdom, dignity, and grace;
And Dorothea, from her infant years,
Gain'd all her wishes from their pride or fears:
She wrote a billet, and a novel read,

And with her fame her vanity was fed;
Each word, each look, each action was a cause
For flattering wonder, and for fond applause;
She rode or danced, and ever glanced around,
Seeking for praise, and smiling when she found.
The yielding pair to her petitions gave

An humble friend to be a civil slave;