Does wrong, that cannot be repair’d by truth. Ruth--I may tell, too oft had she been told-- Was tall and fair, and comely to behold; 120 Gentle and simple, in her native place Not one compared with her in form or face; She was not merry, but she gave our hearth A cheerful spirit that was more than mirth. There was a sailor boy, and people said He was, as man, a likeness of the maid; But not in this--for he was ever glad, While Ruth was apprehensive, mild, and sad; A quiet spirit hers, and peace would seek In meditation--tender, mild, and meek! 130 Her loved the lad most truly; and, in truth, She took an early liking to the youth; To her alone were his attentions paid, And they became the bachelor and maid. He wish’d to marry; but so prudent we And worldly wise, we said it could not be. They took the counsel--may be they approved-- But still they grieved and waited, hoped and loved. Now, my young friend, when of such state I speak As one of danger, you will be to seek: 140 You know not, Richard, where the danger lies In loving hearts, kind words, and speaking eyes; For lovers speak their wishes with their looks As plainly, love, as you can read your books. Then, too, the meetings and the partings, all The playful quarrels in which lovers fall, Serve to one end--each lover is a child, Quick to resent and to be reconciled; And then their peace brings kindness that remains, And so the lover from the quarrel gains. 150 When he has fault that she reproves, his fear And grief assure her she was too severe: And that brings kindness--when he bears an ill, } Or disappointment, and is calm and still, } She feels his own obedient to her will: } And that brings kindness--and what kindness brings I cannot tell you;--these were trying things. They were as children, and they fell at length; The trial, doubtless, is beyond their strength Whom grace supports not; and will grace support 160 The too confiding, who their danger court? Then they would marry--but were now too late-- All could their fault in sport or malice state; And though the day was fix’d, and now drew on, I could perceive my daughter’s peace was gone; She could not bear the bold and laughing eye } That gazed on her--reproach she could not fly; } Her grief she would not show, her shame could not deny;} For some with many virtues come to shame, And some that lose them all preserve their name. 170 “‘Fix’d was the day; but ere that day appear’d, A frightful rumour through the place was heard; War, who had slept awhile, awaked once more, And gangs came pressing till they swept the shore: Our youth was seized and quickly sent away,