For Ruth, when press‘d, rejected him, and grew To her old sorrow, as if that were new. ‘Who shall support her?’ said her father, ‘how Can I, infirm and weak as I am now? And here a loving fool’----this gave her pain Severe, indeed, but she would not complain; Nor would consent, although the weaver grew 300 More fond, and would the frighten’d girl pursue. ‘O! much she begg’d him to forbear, to stand Her soul’s kind friend, and not to ask her hand: She could not love him.--‘Love me!’ he replied, ‘The love you mean is love unsanctified, An earthly, wicked, sensual, sinful kind, A creature-love, the passion of the blind.’ He did not court her, he would have her know, For that poor love that will on beauty grow; No! he would take her as the prophet took 310 One of the harlots in the holy book; And then he look’d so ugly and severe! And yet so fond--she could not hide her fear. This fondness grew her torment; she would fly In woman’s terror, if he came but nigh; Nor could I wonder he should odious prove, So like a ghost that left a grave for love. But still her father lent his cruel aid To the man’s hope, and she was more afraid: He said, no more she should his table share, 320 But be the parish or the teacher’s care. ‘Three days I give you: see that all be right } On Monday-morning--this is Thursday-night-- } Fulfil my wishes, girl! or else forsake my sight!’ } ‘I see her now; and, she that was so meek It was a chance that she had power to speak, Now spoke in earnest--‘Father! I obey, And will remember the appointed day!’ ‘Then came the man: she talk’d with him apart, And, I believe, laid open all her heart; 330 But all in vain--she said to me, in tears, ‘Mother! that man is not what he appears: He talks of heaven, and let him, if he will, But he has earthly purpose to fulfil; Upon my knees I begg’d him to resign The hand he asks--he said, ‘it shall be mine. ‘What! did the holy men of Scripture deign To hear a woman when she said ‘refrain?’ Of whom they chose they took them wives, and these Made it their study and their wish to please; 340 The women then were faithful and afraid, As Sarah Abraham, they their lords obey’d, And so she styled him; ’tis in later days Of foolish love that we our women praise, Fall on the knee, and raise the suppliant hand, And court the favour that we might command.’ O! my dear mother, when this man has power, How will he treat me--first may beasts devour! Or death in every form that I could prove, Except this selfish being’s hateful love.’ 350 I gently blamed her, for I knew how hard It is to force affection and regard. Ah! my dear lad, I talk to you as one