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and pardon me if I have not given to her respectable by making its possessors ridirelation the advantages which she had so culous, or by describing vice with much reason to expect. The other story, many fascinating qualities, that it is either that of Ellen, could I give it in the lan-lost in the assemblage, or pardoned by guage of him who related it to me, would the association. Man's heart is sufficiently please and affect my readers. It is by no prone to make excuse for man's infirmity; means my only debt, though the one I and needs not the aid of poetry, or elonow more particularly acknowledge; for quence, to take from vice its native dewho shall describe all that he gains in the formity. A character may be respectable social, the unrestrained, and the frequent with all its faults, but it must not be conversations with a friend, who is at made respectable by them. It is grievous once communicative and judicious?—whose opinions, on all subjects of literary kind, are founded on good taste, and exquisite feeling? It is one of the greatest pleasures of my memory' to recal in absence those conversations; and if I do not in direct terms mention with whom I conversed, it is both because I have no permission, and my readers will have no doubt.

when genius will condescend to place strong and evil spirits in a commanding view, or excite our pity and admiration for men of talents, degraded by crime, when struggling with misfortune. It is but too true that great and wicked men may be so presented to us as to demand our applause, when they should excite our abhorrence; but it is surely for the interest of mankind, and our own self-direction, that we should ever keep at unapproachable distance our respect and our reproach.

The first intention of the poet must be to please; for, if he means to instruct, he must render the instruction which he hopes I have one observation more to offer. to convey palatable and pleasant. I will It may appear to some that a minister of not assume the tone of a moralist, nor religion, in the decline of life, should have promise that my relations shall be benefi- no leisure for such amusements as these; cial to mankind'; but I have endeavoured, and for them I have no reply;—but to not unsuccessfully I trust, that, in what those who are more indulgent to the prosoever I have related or described, there pensities, the studies, and the habits of should be nothing introduced which has a mankind, I offer some apology when I protendency to excuse the vices of man, by duce these volumes, not as the occupations associating with them sentiments that de- of my life, but the fruits of my leisure, mand our respect, and talents that compel the employment of that time which, if our admiration. There is nothing in these not given to them, had passed in the pages which has the mischievous effect of vacuity of unrecorded idleness; or had confounding truth and error, or confusing been lost in the indulgence of unregistered our ideas of right and wrong. I know not thoughts and fancies, that melt away in which is most injurious to the yielding the instant they are conceived, and leave minds of the young, to render virtue less not a wreck behind.'

BOOK I.

THE HALL

The elder, George, had past his threescore
years,
A busy actor, sway'd by hopes and fears
Of powerful kind; and he had fill'd the
parts

Taɛ Brothers met who many a year had That try our strength and agitate our

past

their last;

hearts.

Since their last meeting, and that seem'de married not, and yet he well approved The social state; but then he rashly loved; Gave to a strong delusion all his youth, Led by a vision till alarm'd by truth: That vision past, and of that truth possest, His passions wearied and disposed to rest, George yet had will and power a place to

They had no parent then or common friend
Who might their hearts to mutual kindness
bend;

Who, touching both in their divided state,
Might generous thoughts and warm desires

create;
For there are minds whom we must first
excite

And urge to feeling, ere they can unite;
As we may hard and stubborn metals beat
And blend together, if we duly heat.

choose, Where Hope might sleep, and terminate

lier views.

He chose his native village, and the hill
He elimb'd a boy had its attraction still;

With that small brook beneath, where he would stand,

And stooping fill the hollow of his hand To quench th' impatient thirst-then stop awhile

To see the sun upon the waters smile,
In that sweet weariness, when, long denied,
We drink and view the fountain that supplied
The sparkling bliss-and feel, if not express,
Our perfect ease in that sweet weariness.
The oaks yet flourish'd in that fertile
ground,

Where still the church with lofty tower was found;

And still that Hall, a first, a favourite view, But not the elms that form'd its avenue; They fell ere George arrived, or yet had stood,

For he in reverence held the living wood, That widely spreads in earth the deepening root,

And lifts to heaven the still aspiring shoot; From age to age they fill'd a growing space, But hid the mansion they were meant to grace.

It was an ancient, venerable Hall,
And once surrounded by a moat and wall;
A part was added by a squire of taste,
Who, while unvalued acres ran to waste,
Made spacious rooms, whence he could look
about,

And mark improvements as they rose without.
He fill'd the moat, he took the wall away,
He thinn'd the park, and bade the view be gay;
The scene was rich, but he who should
behold

| On which the names of wanton boys appear, Who died old men, and left memorials here, Carvings of feet and hands, and knots and flowers,

The fruits of busy minds in idle hours. Here, while our squire the modern part possess'd,

His partial eye upon the old would rest; That best his comforts gave-this sooth'd his feelings best.

Here day by day, withdrawn from busy life, No child t' awake him, to engage no wife, When friends were absent, not to books inclined,

He found a sadness steal upon his mind; Sighing, the works of former lords to see, "I follow them," he cried, "but who will follow me?"

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Here George had found, yet scarcely hoped to find,

Companions meet, minds fitted to his mind; Here, late and loth, the worthy rector came, From College-Dinners and a Fellow's fame; Its worth was poor, and so the whole was So near a neighbour in a friend so old : Yet, here when fix'd, was happy to behold

sold.

Just then our merchant from his

desk

retired, And made the purchase that his heart desired: The Hall of Binning, his delight a boy, That gave his fancy in her flight employ; Here, from his father's modest home, he gazed,

Its grandeur charm'd him, and its height amazed:

Work of past ages; and the brick-built place Where he resided was in much disgrace; But never in his fancy's proudest dream Did he the master of that mansion seem: Young was he then, and little did he know What years on care and diligence bestow; Now young no more, retired to views well known,

He finds that object of his awe his own; The Hall at Binning!—how he loves the gloom

That sun-excluding window gives the room; Those broad brown stairs on which he loves to tread; Those beams within; without, that length of lead,

Boys on one form they parted, now to meet In equal state, their worships on one seat. Here were a sister-pair, who seem'd to live With more respect than affluence can give; Although not affluent, they, by nature graced, Had sense and virtue, dignity and taste; Their minds by sorrows, by misfortunes tried, Were vex'd and heal'd, were pain'd and purified.

Hither a sage physician came, and plann'd, With books his guides, improvements on his land;

Nor less to mind than matter would he give His noble thoughts, to know how spirits live, And what is spirit; him his friends advised To think with fear, but caution he despised, And hints of fear provoked him till he dared Beyond himself, nor bold assertion spared, But fiercely spoke, like those who strongly feel,

"Priests and their craft, enthusiasts and their zeal." More yet appear'd, of whom as we proceedAh! yield not yet to languor-you shall read.

rose,

But ere the events that from this meeting | So thought our squire, nor wish'd the guards t' appear So strong, that safety might be bought too dear;

Ee they of pain or pleasure, we disclose,
It is of custom, doubtless is of use,
That we our heroes first should introduce.
Come, then, fair Truth! and let me clearly see
The minds I paint, as they are seen in thee;
To me their merits and their faults impart;
Give me to say, "frail being! such thou art!"
And closely let me view the naked human
heart.

GEORGE loved to think; but as he late began
To muse on all the grander thoughts of man,
He took a solemn and a serious view
Of his religion, and he found it true;
Firmly, yet meekly, he his mind applied
To this great subject, and was satisfied.
He then proceeded, not so much intent,
But still in earnest, and to church he went:
Although they found some difference in
their creed,

He and his pastor cordially agreed; Convinced that they who would the truth obtain

By disputation, find their efforts vain; The church he view'd as liberal minds will view,

And there he fix'd his principles and pew. He saw, he thought he saw, how Weakness, Pride,

And Habit, draw seceding crowds aside: Weakness that loves on trifling points to dwell,

Pride that at first from Heaven's own worship fell,

And Habit, going where it went before,
Or to the Meeting or the Tavern-Door.

George loved the cause of freedom, but reproved All who with wild and boyish ardour loved; Those who believed they never could be free,

Except when fighting for their liberty;
Who by their very clamour and complaint

Invite coercion or inforce restraint:
He thought a trust so great, so good a cause,
Was only to be kept by guarding laws;
For public blessings firmly to secure,
We must a lessening of the good endure.
The public waters are to none denied,
All drink the stream, but only few must
guide;

There must be reservoirs to hold supply,
And channels form'd to send the blessing by;
The public good must be a private care,
None all they would may have, but all a

share :

So we must freedom with restraint enjoy, What crowds possess they will, uncheck'd,

destroy;

The Constitution was the ark that he
Join'd to support with zeal and sanctity,
Nor would expose it, as th' accursed son
His father's weakness, to be gazed upon.
I for that Freedom make, said he, my prayer,
That suits with all, like atmospheric air;
That is to mortal man by heaven assign'd,
Who cannot bear a pure and perfect kind:
The lighter gas, that, taken in the frame,
The spirit heats, and sets the blood in flame,
Such is the freedom which when men ap-
prove,

They know not what a dangerous thing they love.

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And hence, that freedom may to all be dealt, Nor friend nor foe; he prized it not, nor Guards must be fix'd, and safety must be felt.

spurn'd;

But came and sat him in his village down, Men with such minds at once each other aid,
Safe from its smile, and careless of its frown; Frankness, they cry, with frankness is
He, fairly looking into life's account,
repaid;
Saw frowns and favours were of like amount; If honest, why suspect? if poor, of what
And viewing all-his perils, prospects, purse,
afraid?
He said: Content! 'tis well it is no worse. Wealth's timid votaries may with caution

Through ways more rough had fortune
RICHARD led,
The world he traversed was the book he
read;

Hence clashing notions and opinions strange
Lodged in his mind; all liable to change.
By nature generous, open, daring, free,
The vice he hated was hypocrisy :
Religious notions, in her latter years,
His mother gave, admonish'd by her fears;
To these he added, as he chanced to read
A pious work or learn a christian creed :
He heard the preacher by the highway-side,
The church's teacher, and the meeting's
guide;

And mixing all their matters in his brain,
Distill'd a something he could ill explain;
But still it served him for his daily use,
And kept his lively passions from abuse;
For he believed, and held in reverence high,
The truth so dear to man-not all shall die.
The minor portions of his creed hung loose,
For time to shapen and an whole produce;
This love effected and a favourite maid,
With clearer views, his honest flame repaid;
Hers was the thought correct, the hope
sublime,

She shaped his creed, and did the work of time.

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move, Be it our wisdom to confide and love!

So pleasures came, (not purchased first or plann'd)

But the chance-pleasures that the poor command;

They came but seldom, they remain'd not long, Nor gave him time to question, are they wrong? These he enjoy'd, and left to aftertime To judge the folly or decide the crime; Sure had he been, he had perhaps been pure From this reproach—but Richard was not Yet from the sordid vice, the mean, the base, He stood aloof-death frown'd not like disgrace.

sure

With handsome figure, and with manly air, He pleased the sex, who all to him were fair;

With filial love he look'd on forms decay'd,
And Admiration's debt to Beauty paid;
On sea or land, wherever Richard went,
He felt affection, and he found content;
There was in him a strong presiding hope
In Fortune's tempests, and it bore him up:
But when that mystic vine his mansion
graced,

When numerous branches round his board
When sighs of apprehensive love were heard,
were placed,
Then first the spirit of the hero fear'd;
And all an husband's sorrow touch'd his
Then he reflected on the father's part,
heart;

Then thought he: Who will their assistance lend?

And be the children's guide, the parent's friend?

Who shall their guardian, their protector be?

I have a brother-Well!—and so has he.

And now they met: a message-kind, 'tis But verbal only-ask'd an interview; true, And many a mile, perplex'd by doubt and fear,

Had Richard past, unwilling to appear— How shall I now my unknown way explore, He proud and rich-I very proud and poor? Perhaps my friend a dubious speech mistook, And George may meet me with a stranger's look;

Then to my home when I return again, How shall I bear this business to explain,

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I am not come to flatter you and feed;
You shall no soother, fawner, hearer find,
I will not brush your coat, nor smooth
your mind;

I will not hear your tales the whole day
long,

Nor swear you're right if I believe you

wrong:

BOOK II.

THE BROTHERS.

Ar length the Brothers met, no longer tried
By those strong feelings that in time subside;
Not fluent yet their language, but the eye
And action spoke both question and reply;
Till the heart rested, and could calmly feel,
Till the shook compass felt the settling steel;
And either speaker less abruptly spoke:
Till playful smiles on graver converse broke,
Still was there ofttimes silence, silence blest,
Pauses that came not from a want of thought,
Expressive, thoughtful—their emotions' rest;
But want of ease, by wearied passion sought;
For souls, when hurried by such powerful
Rest, and retrace the pleasure of the course.
force,

They differ'd much; yet might observers
trace
Likeness of features both in mind and face;
But not offensive, not obtrusive pride:
hide,
Unlike had been their life, unlike the fruits
Of different tempers, studies, and pursuits;
Nay, in such varying scenes the men had
moved,

Pride they possess'd, that neither strove to

Nor be a witness of the facts you state,
Nor as my own adopt your love or hate:
I will not earn my dinner when I dine,
By taking all your sentiments for mine;
Nor watch the guiding motions of your eye,
Before I venture questions or reply;
Nor when you speak affect an awe profound,
Sinking my voice, as if I fear'd the sound;
Nor to your looks obediently attend,
The poor, the humble, the dependant friend:
Yet son of that dear mother could I meet-As various colours in a painted ball,
But lo! the mansion-'tis a fine old seat!

'Twas passing strange that aught alike they
loved:

But all distinction now was thrown apart,
While these strong feelings ruled in either

heart.

While it has rest, are seen distinctly all;
Till, whirl'd around by some exterior force,

The Brothers met, with both too much at They all are blended in the rapid course:

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away;

For he in tender tears had no delight,
But scorn'd the thought, and ridiculed the
sight;

Yet now with pleasure, though with some
surprise,

He felt his heart o'erflowing at his eyes.
Richard, mean time, made some attempts to
speak,

Strong in his purpose, in his trial weak;
We cannot nature by our wishes rule,
Nor at our will her warm emotions cool;-
At length affection, like a risen tide,
Stood still, and then seem'd slowly to subside;
Each on the other's look had power to

dwell,

And Brother Brother greeted passing well.

So in repose, and not by passion sway'd,
We saw the difference by their habits made;
Fill'd with one love, and were in heart the
But, tried by strong emotions, they became

same;

Joy to the face its own expression sent,
And gave a likeness in the looks it lent.

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