Where you could nothing mark’d or manly trace. “But Lucy found him to his mother kind, And saw the Christian meekness of his mind; His voice was soft, his temper mild and sweet, His mind was easy, and his person neat. “Jane said he wanted courage; Lucy drew No ill from that, though she believed it too; ‘It is religious, Jane, be not severe;’ 220 ‘Well, Lucy, then it is religious fear,’ Nor could the sister, great as was her love, A man so lifeless and so cool approve. “Jane had a lover, whom a lady’s pride Might wish to see attending at her side, Young, handsome, sprightly, and with good address, Not mark’d for folly, error or excess; Yet not entirely from their censure free Who judge our failings with severity. The very care he took to keep his name 230 Stainless, with some was evidence of shame. “Jane heard of this, and she replied, ‘Enough; Prove but the facts, and I resist not proof; Nor is my heart so easy as to love The man my judgment bids me not approve.’ But yet that heart a secret joy confess’d, To find no slander on the youth would rest; His was, in fact, such conduct, that a maid Might think of marriage, and be not afraid; And she was pleased to find a spirit high, 240 Free from all fear, that spurn’d hypocrisy. “‘What fears my sister?’ said the partial fair, For Lucy fear’d,--‘Why tell me to beware? No smooth deceitful varnish can I find; } His is a spirit generous, free, and kind; } And all his flaws are seen, all floating in his mind. } A little boldness in his speech. What then? It is the failing of these generous men. A little vanity, but--O! my dear, They all would show it, were they all sincere. 250 “‘But come, agreed; we’ll lend each other eyes To see our favourites, when they wear disguise; And all those errors that will then be shown Uninfluenced by the workings of our own.’ “Thus lived the sisters, far from power removed, And far from need, both loving and beloved. Thus grew, as myrtles grow; I grieve at heart That I have pain and sorrow to impart. But so it is, the sweetest herbs that grow In the lone vale, where sweetest waters flow, 260 Ere drops the blossom, or appears the fruit, Feel the vile grub, and perish at the root; And, in a quick and premature decay, Breathe the pure fragrance of their life away. “A town was near, in which the buildings all Were large, but one pre-eminently tall-- An huge high house. Without there was an air Of lavish cost; no littleness was there; But room for servants, horses, whiskies, gigs, And walls for pines and peaches, grapes and figs; 270 Bright on the sloping glass the sunbeams shone, And brought the summer of all climates on.