But there intruded thoughts not all serene, And wishes not so calm would intervene.” 110 “Saw not her father?” “Yes; but saw no more Than he had seen without a fear before: He had subsisted by the church and plough, And saw no cause for apprehension now. We, too, could live; he thought not passion wrong, But only wonder’d we delay’d so long. More had he wonder’d had he known esteem Was all we mention’d, friendship was our theme.-- Laugh, if you please, I must my tale pursue-- } This sacred friendship thus in secret grew } 120 An intellectual love, most tender, chaste, and true; } Unstain’d, we said; nor knew we how it chanced To gain some earthly soil as it advanced; But yet my friend, and she alone, could prove How much it differ’d from romantic love-- But this and more I pass--No doubt, at length, We could perceive the weakness of our strength. “O! days remember’d well! remember’d all! The bitter-sweet, the honey and the gall; Those garden rambles in the silent night, 130 Those trees so shady, and that moon so bright; That thickset alley, by the arbour closed, That woodbine seat where we at last reposed; And then the hopes that came and then were gone, Quick as the clouds beneath the moon passed on. Now, in this instant, shall my love be shown, I said--O! no, the happy time is flown! “You smile; remember, I was weak and low, And fear’d the passion as I felt it grow: Will she, I said, to one so poor attend, 140 Without a prospect, and without a friend? I dared not ask her--till a rival came, But hid the secret, slow-consuming flame. I once had seen him; then familiar, free, More than became a common guest to be; And sure, I said, he has a look of pride And inward joy--a lover satisfied. Can you not, Brother, on adventures past A thought, as on a lively prospect, cast? On days of dear remembrance! days that seem, 150 When past--nay, even when present--like a dream? These white and blessed days, that softly shine On few, nor oft on them--have they been thine?” George answer’d, “Yes! dear Richard, through the years Long past, a day so white and mark’d appears. As in the storm that pours destruction round, Is here and there a ship in safety found: So in the storms of life some days appear More blest and bright for the preceding fear. These times of pleasure that in life arise, 160 Like spots in deserts, that delight, surprise, And to our wearied senses give the more, For all the waste behind us and before-- And thou, dear Richard, hast then had thy share Of those enchanting times that baffle care?” Yes, I have felt this life-refreshing gale That bears us onward when our spirits fail;