You stubborn dog----Oh God! my brother’s dead!----” Timid was Isaac, and in all the past He felt a purpose to be kind at last; Nor did he mean his brother to depart, Till he had shown this kindness of his heart: But day by day he put the cause aside, 360 Induced by av’rice, peevishness, or pride. But, now awaken’d, from this fatal time His conscience Isaac felt, and found his crime: He raised to George a monumental stone, And there retired to sigh and think alone; An ague seized him, he grew pale, and shook-- “So,” said his son, “would my poor uncle look.”-- “And so, my child, shall I like him expire.”-- “No! you have physic and a cheerful fire.”-- “Unhappy sinner! yes, I’m well supplied 370 With every comfort my cold heart denied.” He view’d his brother now, but not as one Who vex’d his wife by fondness for her son; Not as with wooden limb, and seaman’s tale, The odious pipe, vile grog, or humbler ale: He now the worth and grief alone can view Of one so mild, so generous, and so true: The frank, kind brother, with such open heart, And I to break it--’twas a dæmon’s part!” So Isaac now, as led by conscience, feels, 380 Nor his unkindness palliates or conceals. “This is your folly,” said his heartless wife; “Alas! my folly cost my brother’s life: It suffer’d him to languish and decay, } My gentle brother, whom I could not pay, } And therefore left to pine, and fret his life away.” } He takes his son, and bids the boy unfold All the good uncle of his feelings told, All he lamented--and the ready tear Falls as he listens, soothed and grieved to hear. 390 “Did he not curse me, child?”--“He never cursed, But could not breathe, and said his heart would burst”-- “And so will mine.”--“Then, father, you must pray; My uncle said it took his pains away.” Repeating thus his sorrows, Isaac shows } That he, repenting, feels the debt he owes, } And from this source alone his every comfort flows. } He takes no joy in office, honours, gain; They make him humble, nay, they give him pain; “These from my heart,” he cries, “all feeling drove; 400 They made me cold to nature, dead to love.” He takes no joy in home, but, sighing, sees A son in sorrow, and a wife at ease; He takes no joy in office--see him now, And Burgess Steel has but a passing bow; Of one sad train of gloomy thoughts possess’d, } He takes no joy in friends, in food, in rest-- } Dark are the evil days, and void of peace the best. } And thus he lives, if living be to sigh, } And from all comforts of the world to fly, } 410 Without a hope in life--without a wish to die. } TALE XXI. _THE LEARNED BOY._