And morn and eve had the appropriate vest; 60 He talk’d of early mists, and night’s cold air, And in one spot was fix’d his worship’s chair. But not a custom yet on Richard’s mind Had force, or him to certain modes confined; To him no joy such frequent visits paid That habit by its beaten track was made; He was not one who at his ease could say, “We’ll live to-morrow as we lived to-day;” But he and his were as the ravens fed, As the day came it brought the daily bread. 70 George, born to fortune, though of moderate kind, Was not in haste his road through life to find. His father early lost, his mother tried } To live without him, liked it not, and--sigh’d, } When, for her widow’d hand, an amorous youth applied. } She still was young, and felt that she could share A lover’s passion, and an husband’s care; Yet past twelve years before her son was told, To his surprise, “your father you behold.” But he beheld not with his mother’s eye 80 The new relation, and would not comply, But all obedience, all connexion spurn’d, And fled their home, where he no more return’d. His father’s brother was a man whose mind Was to his business and his bank confined; His guardian care the captious nephew sought, And was received, caress’d, advised, and taught. “That Irish beggar, whom your mother took, Does you this good, he sends you to your book; Yet love not books beyond their proper worth, 90 But, when they fit you for the world, go forth: They are like beauties, and may blessings prove, When we with caution study them, or love; But, when to either we our souls devote, We grow unfitted for that world, and dote.” George to a school of higher class was sent, But he was ever grieving that he went: A still, retiring, musing, dreaming boy, He relish’d not their sudden bursts of joy; Nor the tumultuous pleasures of a rude, 100 A noisy, careless, fearless multitude. He had his own delights, as one who flies From every pleasure that a crowd supplies; Thrice he return’d, but then was weary grown, And was indulged with studies of his own. Still could the rector and his friend relate The small adventures of that distant date; And Richard listen’d as they spake of time Past in that world of misery and crime. Freed from his school, a priest of gentle kind 110 The uncle found to guide the nephew’s mind; Pleased with his teacher, George so long remain’d, The mind was weaken’d by the store it gain’d. His guardian uncle, then on foreign ground, No time to think of his improvements found; Nor had the nephew, now to manhood grown, Talents or taste for trade or commerce shown, But shunn’d a world of which he little knew,