In her juvenile anger, wherever she found, She pluck'd, and she pull'd, and she tore; The poor pa.s.sive suff'rers bestrew'd all the ground; Not a weed of them all she forbore.

At length 'twas her chance on some nettles to light (Things, till then, she had scarcely heard nam'd); The vulgar intruders call'd forth all her spite; In a transport of rage she exclaim'd,

"Shall briars so unsightly and worthless as those Their great sprawling leaves thus presume To mix with the pink, the jonquil, and the rose, And take up a flower's sweet room?"

On the odious offenders enraged she flew; But she presently found to her cost A tingling unlook'd for, a pain that was new, And rage was in agony lost.

To her father she hastily fled for relief, And told him her pain and her smart; With kindly caresses he soothed her grief, Then smiling he took the weed's part.

"The world, my Aurelia, this garden of ours Resembles: too apt we're to deem In the world's larger garden ourselves as the flow'rs, And the poor but as weeds to esteem.

"But them if we rate, or with rudeness repel, Though some will be pa.s.sive enough, From others who're more independent 'tis well If we meet not a _stinging rebuff_."

PARENTAL RECOLLECTIONS

A child's a plaything for an hour; Its pretty tricks we try For that or for a longer s.p.a.ce; Then tire, and lay it by.

But I knew one, that to itself All seasons could controul; That would have mock'd the sense of pain Out of a grieved soul.

Thou, straggler into loving arms, Young climber up of knees, When I forget thy thousand ways, Then life and all shall cease.

THE TWO BOYS

I saw a boy with eager eye Open a book upon a stall, And read as he'd devour it all: Which when the stall-man did espy, Soon to the boy I heard him call, "You, Sir, you never buy a book, Therefore in one you shall not look."

The boy pa.s.s'd slowly on, and with a sigh He wish'd he never had been taught to read, Then of the old churl's books he should have had no need.

Of sufferings the poor have many, Which never can the rich annoy.

I soon perceiv'd another boy Who look'd as if he'd not had any Food for that day at least, enjoy The sight of cold meat in a tavern larder.

This boy's case, thought I, is surely harder, Thus hungry longing, thus without a penny, Beholding choice of dainty dressed meat: No wonder if he wish he ne'er had learn'd to eat.

THE OFFER

"Tell me, would you rather be Chang'd by a fairy to the fine Young orphan heiress Geraldine, Or still be Emily?

"Consider, ere you answer me, How many blessings are procur'd By riches, and how much endur'd By chilling poverty."

After a pause, said Emily: "In the words orphan heiress I Find many a solid reason why I would not changed be.

"What though I live in poverty, And have of sisters eight--so many, That few indulgences, if any, Fall to the share of me;

"Think you that for wealth I'd be Of ev'n the least of them bereft, Or lose my parent, and be left An orphan'd Emily?

"Still should I be Emily, Although I look'd like Geraldine; I feel within this heart of mine No change could worked be."

THE SISTER'S EXPOSTULATION ON THE BROTHER'S LEARNING LATIN

Shut these odious books up, brother-- They have made you quite another Thing from what you us'd to be-- Once you lik'd to play with me-- Now you leave me all alone, And are so conceited grown With your Latin, you'll scarce look Upon any English book.

We had us'd on winter eyes To con over Shakespeare's leaves, Or on Milton's harder sense Exercise our diligence-- And you would explain with ease The obscurer pa.s.sages, Find me out the prettiest places The poetic turns, and graces, Which alas! now you are gone, I must puzzle out alone, And oft miss the meaning quite, Wanting you to set me right.

All this comes since you've been under Your new master. I much wonder What great charm it is you see In those words, _musa, musae_; Or in what they do excel Our word, _song_. It sounds as well To my fancy as the other.

Now believe me, dearest brother, I would give my finest frock, And my cabinet, and stock Of new playthings, every toy, I would give them all with joy, Could I you returning see Back to English and to me.

THE BROTHER'S REPLY

Sister, fie, for shame, no more, Give this ignorant babble o'er, Nor with little female pride Things above your sense deride.

Why this foolish under-rating Of my first attempts at Latin?

Know you not each thing we prize Does from small beginnings rise?

'Twas the same thing with your writing, Which you now take such delight in.

First you learnt the down-stroke line, Then the hair-stroke thin and fine, Then a curve, and then a better, Till you came to form a letter; Then a new task was begun, How to join them two in one; Till you got (these first steps past) To your fine text-hand at last.

So though I at first commence With the humble accidence, And my study's course affords Little else as yet but words, I shall venture in a while At construction, grammar, style, Learn my syntax, and proceed Cla.s.sic authors next to read, Such as wiser, better, make us, Sall.u.s.t, Phaedrus, Ovid, Flaccus: All the poets (with their wit), All the grave historians writ, Who the lives and actions show Of men famous long ago; Ev'n their very sayings giving In the tongue they us'd when living.

Think not I shall do that wrong Either to my native tongue, English authors to despise, Or those books which you so prize; Though from them awhile I stray, By new studies call'd away, Them when next I take in hand, I shall better understand.

For I've heard wise men declare Many words in English are From the Latin tongue deriv'd, Of whose sense girls are depriv'd 'Cause they do not Latin know.-- But if all this anger grow From this cause, that you suspect By proceedings indirect, I would keep (as misers pelf) All this learning to myself; Sister, to remove this doubt, Rather than we will fall out, (If our parents will agree) You shall Latin learn with me.

NURSE GREEN

"Your prayers you have said, and you've wished Good night: What cause is there yet keeps my darling awake?

This throb in your bosom proclaims some affright Disturbs your composure. Can innocence quake?

"Why thus do you cling to my neck, and enfold me, What fear unimparted your quiet devours?"

"O mother, there's reason--for Susan has told me, A dead body lies in the room next to ours."

"I know it; and, but for forgetfulness, dear, I meant you the coffin this day should have seen, And read the inscription, and told me the year And day of the death of your poor old Nurse Green."

"O not for the wealth of the world would I enter A chamber wherein a dead body lay hid, Lest somebody bolder than I am should venture To go near the coffin and lift up the lid."

"And should they do so and the coffin uncover, The corpse underneath it would be no ill sight; This frame, when its animal functions are over, Has nothing of horror the living to fright.

"To start at the dead is preposterous error, To shrink from a foe that can never contest; Shall that which is motionless move thee to terror; Or thou become restless, 'cause they are at rest?

"To think harm of her our good feelings forbid us By whom when a babe you were dandled and fed; Who living so many good offices did us, I ne'er can persuade me would hurt us when dead.

"But if no endeavour your terrors can smother, If vainly against apprehension you strive, Come, bury your fears in the arms of your mother; My darling, cling close to me, I am alive."

GOOD TEMPER

In whatsoever place resides Good Temper, she o'er all presides; The most obdurate heart she guides.

Even Anger yields unto her power, And sullen Spite forgets to lour, Or reconciled weeps a shower;

Reserve she softens into Ease, Makes Fretfulness leave off to teaze, She Waywardness itself can please.