The time arrived when youth and age must part, Tears in each eye, and sorrow in each heart; The careful father bade his son attend To all his duties, and obey his friend; To keep his church and there behave aright, } As one existing in his Maker’s sight, } Till acts to habits led, and duty to delight: } “Then try, my boy, as quickly as you can, T’ assume the looks and spirit of a man; 170 I say, be honest, faithful, civil, true, And this you may, and yet have courage too. Heroic men, their country’s boast and pride, Have fear’d their God, and nothing fear’d beside; While others daring, yet imbecile, fly The power of man, and that of God defy. Be manly then, though mild, for, sure as fate, Thou art, my Stephen, too effeminate; Here, take my purse, and make a worthy use (’Tis fairly stock’d) of what it will produce; 180 And now my blessing, not as any charm Or conjuration; but ’twill do no harm.” Stephen, whose thoughts were wandering up and down, Now charm’d with promised sights in London-town, Now loth to leave his grandam--lost the force, The drift and tenor of this grave discourse; But, in a general way, he understood ’Twas good advice, and meant, “My son, be good;” And Stephen knew that all such precepts mean, That lads should read their Bible, and be clean. 190 The good old lady, though in some distress, Begg’d her dear Stephen would his grief suppress: “Nay, dry those eyes, my child--and, first of all, Hold fast thy faith, whatever may befall; Hear the best preacher, and preserve the text For meditation, till you hear the next; Within your Bible night and morning look-- There is your duty, read no other book; Be not in crowds, in broils, in riots seen, And keep your conscience and your linen clean. 200 Be you a Joseph, and the time may be, When kings and rulers will be ruled by thee.” “Nay,” said the father----“Hush, my son,” replied The dame----“The Scriptures must not be denied.” The lad, still weeping, heard the wheels approach, And took his place within the evening coach, With heart quite rent asunder: On one side Was love, and grief, and fear, for scenes untried; Wild beasts and wax-work fill’d the happier part Of Stephen’s varying and divided heart; 210 This he betray’d by sighs and questions strange, Of famous shows, the Tower, and the Exchange. Soon at his desk was placed the curious boy, Demure and silent at his new employ; Yet, as he could, he much attention paid To all around him, cautious and afraid. On older clerks his eager eyes were fix’d, But Stephen never in their council mix’d; Much their contempt he fear’d, for, if like them, He felt assured he should himself contemn: 220