To see if one was dying at the sound; But all were gone--a husband, wrapt in gloom, 180 Stalk‘d careless, listless, up and down the room. “And now ‘tis time to fill that ductile mind With knowledge, from his stores of various kind. His mother, in a peevish mood, had ask‘d, ’Does your Augusta profit? is she task’d?’ “‘Madam!’ he cried, offended with her looks, ‘There’s time for all things, and not all for books: Just on one’s marriage to sit down, and prate On points of learning, is a thing I hate.--’ “‘’Tis right, my son, and it appears to me, 190 If deep your hatred, you must well agree.’ “Finch was too angry for a man so wise, And said, ‘Insinuation I despise! Nor do I wish to have a mind so full Of learned trash--it makes a woman dull: Let it suffice, that I in her discern An aptitude, and a desire to learn.--’ “The matron smiled, but she observed a frown On her son’s brow, and calmly sat her down, Leaving the truth to Time, who solves our doubt, 200 By bringing his all-glorious daughter out-- Truth! for whose beauty all their love profess; And yet how many think it ugliness! “‘Augusta, love,’ said Finch, ‘while you engage In that embroidery, let me read a page. Suppose it Hume’s; indeed he takes a side, But still an author need not be our guide; And, as he writes with elegance and ease, Do now attend--he will be sure to please. Here at the Revolution we commence-- 210 We date, you know, our liberties from hence.’ “‘Yes, sure,’ Augusta answer’d with a smile; ‘Our teacher always talk’d about his style, When we about the Revolution read, And how the martyrs to the flames were led: The good old bishops, I forget their names, But they were all committed to the flames; Maidens and widows, bachelors and wives-- The very babes and sucklings lost their lives. I read it all in Guthrie at the school-- 220 What now!--I know you took me for a fool; There were five bishops taken from the stall, And twenty widows, I remember all; And by this token, that our teacher tried ’To cry for pity, till she howl’d and cried.’ “‘True, true, my love, but you mistake the thing-- The Revolution that made William king Is what I mean; the Reformation you, In Edward and Elizabeth.’--‘’Tis true; But the nice reading is the love between 230 The brave Lord Essex and the cruel queen; And how he sent the ring to save his head, Which the false lady kept till he was dead. “‘That is all true; now read, and I’ll attend; But was not she a most deceitful friend? It was a monstrous, vile, and treacherous thing To show no pity, and to keep the ring; But the queen shook her in her dying bed, And ‘God forgive you!’ was the word she said;