“But she is gone, and ever has in view } Grandeur and taste--and what will then ensue? } Surprise and then delight in scenes so fair and new; } For many a day, perhaps for many a week, 480 Home will have charms, and to her bosom speak; But thoughtless ease, and affluence, and pride, Seen day by day, will draw the heart aside: And she at length, though gentle and sincere, Will think no more of our enjoyments here.” Sighing he spake--but hark! he hears th’ approach Of rattling wheels! and lo! the evening-coach; Once more the movement of the horses’ feet Makes the fond heart with strong emotion beat; Faint were his hopes, but ever had the sight 490 Drawn him to gaze beside his gate at night; And when with rapid wheels it hurried by, He grieved his parent with a hopeless sigh; And could the blessing have been bought--what sum Had he not offer’d, to have Jesse come! She came--he saw her bending from the door, Her face, her smile, and he beheld no more; Lost in his joy--the mother lent her aid T’ assist and to detain the willing maid; Who thought her late, her present home to make, 500 Sure of a welcome for the vicar’s sake. But the good parent was so pleased, so kind, So pressing Colin, she so much inclined, That night advanced; and then so long detain’d, } No wishes to depart she felt, or feign’d; } Yet long in doubt she stood, and then perforce remain’d. } Here was a lover fond, a friend sincere; Here was content and joy, for she was here: In the mild evening, in the scene around, The maid, now free, peculiar beauties found; 510 Blended with village-tones, the evening-gale Gave the sweet night-bird’s warblings to the vale; The youth embolden’d, yet abash’d, now told His fondest wish, nor found the maiden cold; The mother smiling whisper’d--“Let him go And seek the licence!” Jesse answer’d, “No:” But Colin went, I know not if they live With all the comforts wealth and plenty give; But with pure joy to envious souls denied, To suppliant meanness and suspicious pride; 520 And village-maids of happy couples say, “They live like Jesse Bourn and Colin Grey.” TALE XIV. _THE STRUGGLES OF CONSCIENCE._ I am a villain; yet I lie, I am not; Fool! of thyself speak well:--Fool! do not flatter. My Conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale. _Richard III._ Act V. Scene 3. My Conscience is but a kind of hard Conscience. . . . The fiend gives the more friendly counsel. _Merchant of Venice_, Act II. Scene 2.