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Guarded their spirits, kept their inmost thoughts
Alas! too wisely spake the poet wise“ The course of true love never did run smooth,” How clear soe'er the stream. Though like estate, Congenial birth, affection tried and true, Taste, tempers, studies, finely harmonized By sympathy in dissimilitudeDivided excellence, that sought and found Its full perfection in the bond of love, Decreed the union of the happy pair, Whose mutual passion was obedience To those beloved parents, who had wish'd Their offspring blended in a common stock Ere either babe was born; yet eyeless Fate And human baseness wrought the righteous will Of fate-controlling Heaven. The lovely maid Was doom’d on earth to droop, a virgin flower, Unsoild of earth, to bloom in Paradise.
Accursed faction poisons e’en the fount Of household amity. A man there came Of dubious honour, and of race unknown, Deep laden with the plunder'd wealth of Ind; And he, forsooth, must shine a rising star In Britain's senate, make and unmake laws He learn'd but late to keep; beat down prerogative, “ And make bold power look pale”-a patriot he, Profound economist, the people's friend, And champion of reform. Now Leonard's sire Was one of ancient lineage, and estate For many generations handed down, Without an acre added or impair’dHe counted a long line of senators Among his ancestry, and ill could brook The lineal honours of his house usurp'd By the ill-gotten purse of yesterday. And now the day of license was at hand, Britain's septennial Saturnalia, When the soft palm of nice nobility, Ungloved, solicits the Herculean gripe Of hands with bestial slaughter newly stain’d; When ladies stoop their coroneted brows, And patriotic kisses deal to churls A gipsy would refuse; and, reeling ripe, Big Independence, reeking as he goes Through the rank toll-booth, works his burly way To hiccup perjury.–O Mountain Nymph! -O Virgin Liberty! behold thy shrine, And send a snow-blast from thy native hills, Or thy fat offerings will all dissolve And choke the world with incense.—Plutus now, And roaring Bacchus, are thy ministers, While swoln Corruption, like a toad, half-hid Beneath the purple trappings of the throne, Distends her bloated features with a laugh, To hear the many take thy name in vain.
Too proud to flatter, and too proud to yield
Of unbought suffrage and election free.
But Leonard—and the gentle Susan? Where Walk they the while ? Oft, when the rafter'd hall Shook with the jovial laugh of loyalty, Till each grim ancestor and grandam fair, That on the smokey canvass smiled for aye, In multiplied confusion roll’d around, Would Leonard steal into the quiet air Of pensive Night, Love's trusty confidante, To meet his Susan on the silent hill, And silent sit beneath the silent moon; His hand laid lightly on his Susan's palm, While thousand, thousand voices, heard afar, Were soft as murmurs of the distant oceanSolemn and soft—and yet a weary sound To her, who knew her parent's heart estranged From him she longd to call her second sire; For Susan's father, reckless of her tears, Of ancient neighbourhood, and deeds of love Too natural to call for gratitude Blind to the pleadings of the meek, sad eyes Of his child's mother, and his only child— Had pledged his voice, and purse, and utmost power To his friend's rival—whether borne away By the loud torrent of the popular cry, That universal voucher, for whose truth
No man can vouch—or vex'd by wounded pride
Fearful the perils that beset our youth,
'Twas sad to mark The passive Susan pace the public way; Her meek, obedient head with weight oppress'd Of gaudy colours, that but ill became Her pale fair cheek-to hear her soft low voice Reluctant task'd to warble scurril rhymes, Set by some ale-bench Pindar to such tunes As carmen whistle. Worse it was to find The Nabob and his train of Bacchanals