'Can I believe, that, after all the past,

"Our vows, our loves, thou wilt be false at last? Something thou hast - I know not what-in

view;

"I find thee pious—let me find thee true.”

"Ah! cruel this; but do, my friend, depart; "And to its feelings leave my wounded heart."

"Nay, speak at once; and Dinah, let me know, "Mean'st thou to take me, now I'm wreck'd, in tow?

"Be fair; nor longer keep me in the dark; "Am I forsaken for a trimmer spark?

"Heaven's spouse thou art not; nor can I believe "That God accepts her who will man deceive: "True I am shatter'd, I have service seen,

"And service done, and have in trouble been;

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My cheek (it shames me not) has lost its red, "And the brown buff is o'er my features spread; "Perchance my speech is rude; for I among “Th' untamed have been, in temper and in tongue; “Have been trepann'd, have lived in toil and care, "And wrought for wealth I was not doom'd to share; "It touch'd me deeply, for I felt a pride

“In gaining riches for my destined bride:

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Speak then my fate; for these my sorrows past, “Time lost, youth fled, hope wearied, and at last "This doubt of thee—a childish thing to tell, "But certain truth-my very throat they swell; "They stop the breath, and but for shame could I "Give way to weakness, and with passion cry;

"These are unmanly struggles, but I feel "This hour must end them, and perhaps will heal.”—

Here Dinah sigh'd, as if afraid to speakAnd then repeated—" They were frail and weak "His soul she lov'd, and hoped he had the grace "To fix his thoughts upon a better place."

She ceased; -with steady glance, as if to see The very root of this hypocrisy,

He her small fingers moulded in his hard

And bronzed broad hand; then told her his regard
His best respect were gone, but love had still
Hold in his heart, and govern'd yet the will—
Or he would curse her:-saying this, he threw
The hand in scorn away, and bade adieu

To every lingering hope, with every care in view.

Proud and indignant, suffering, sick, and poor. He grieved unseen; and spoke of love no more— Till all he felt in indignation died,

As hers had sunk in avarice and pride.

In health declining, as in mind distress'd, To some in power his troubles he confess'd, And shares a parish-gift; -at prayers he sees The pious Dinah dropp'd upon her knees; Thence as she walks the street with stately air As chance directs, oft meet the parted pair; When he, with thickset coat of badge-man's blue, Moves near her shaded silk of changeful hue;

When his thin locks of grey approach her braid,
A costly purchase made in beauty's aid;
When his frank air, and his unstudied pace,
Are seen with her soft manner, air, and grace,
And his plain artless look with her sharp meaning

face;

It might some wonder in a stranger move,
How these together could have talk'd of love.

Behold them now!-see there a tradesman stands, And humbly hearkens to some fresh commands; He moves to speak, she interrupts him-" Stay," Her air expresses-"Hark! to what I Ten paces off, poor Rupert on a seat Has taken refuge from the noon-day heat, His eyes on her intent, as if to find

say: "

What were the movements of that subtle mind: How still!-how earnest is he!-it appears His thoughts are wand'ring through his earlier years Through years of fruitless labour, to the day When all his earthly prospects died away: "Had I," he thinks, "been wealthier of the two, "Would she have found me so unkind, untrue? "Or knows not man when poor, what man when rich will do?

"Yes, yes! I feel that I had faithful proved, "And should have soothed and raised her, bless'd and loved."

But Dinah moves-she had observed before, The pensive Rupert at an humble door⚫

Some thoughts of pity raised by his distress,
Some feeling touch of ancient tenderness;
Religion, duty urged the maid to speak,
In terms of kindness to a man so weak:

But pride forbad, and to return would prove
She felt the shame of his neglected love;
Nor wrapp'd in silence could she pass, afraid
Each eye should see her, and each heart upbraid;
One way remain❜d-the way the Levite took,
Who without mercy could on misery look;
(A way perceived by craft, approved by pride),
She cross'd and pass'd him on the other side. (1)

(1) [This tale has something of the character of the Parting Hour;' but more painful and less refined. It is founded like it on the story of a betrothed youth and maiden, whose marriage is prevented by their poverty; and the youth goes to pursue his fortune at sea, while the damsel awaits his return with an old female relation at home. He is crossed with many disasters, and is not heard of for many years. In the mean time, the virgin gradually imbibes her aunt's paltry love for wealth and finery; and when she comes, after long sordid expectation, to inherit her hoard, feels that those new tastes have supplanted every warmer emotion in her bosom; and, secretly hoping never more to see her youthful lover, gives herself up to comfortable gossiping and formal ostentatious devotion. At last, when sre is set in her fine parlour, with her china, and toys, and prayer-books around her, the impatient man bursts into her presence, and reclaims her vows. She answers coldly, that she has now done with the world, and only studies how to prepare to die; and exhorts him to betake himself to the same needful meditations. Nothing can be more forcible or true to nature, than the description of the effect of this cold-blooded cant on the warm and unsuspecting nature of her disappointed suitor. — JEFFREY.]

TALE V.

THE PATRON.

It were all one,

That I should love a bright peculiar star,

And think to wed it; she is so much above me:

In her bright radiance and collateral heat

Must I be comforted, not in her sphere.

All's Well that Ends Well.