Then wonder not that love in terror grew With double speed--we look’d, and strove to find A kindred spirit in the hostile mind; But is it hostile? there appears no sign 150 In those dear looks of warfare--none have mine; At length I whisper’d--‘Would that war might cease Between our houses, and that all was peace!’ A sweet confusion on her features rose, ‘She could not bear to think of having foes, When we might all as friends and neighbours live, And for that blessing, O! what would she give!’-- ‘Then let us try and our endeavours blend,’ I said, ‘to bring these quarrels to an end.’ Thus, with one purpose in our hearts, we strove, 160 And, if no more, increased our secret love: Love that, with such impediments in view, To meet the growing danger stronger grew; And from that time each heart, resolved and sure, Grew firm in hope, and patient to endure. “To those who know this season of delight I need not strive their feelings to excite; To those who know not the delight or pain, The best description would be lent in vain; And to the grieving, who will no more find 170 The bower of bliss, to paint it were unkind. I pass it by, to tell that long we tried To bring our fathers over to our side; ’Twas bootless on their wives our skill to try, For one would not, and one in vain, comply. “First I began my father’s heart to move, By boldly saying ‘We are born to love;’ My father answer’d, with an air of ease, ‘Well! very well! be loving if you please! Except a man insults us or offends, 180 In my opinion we should all be friends.’ “This gain’d me nothing; little would accrue From clearing points so useless though so true; But with some pains I brought him to confess, That to forgive our wrongs is to redress. “‘It might be so,’ he answer’d, yet with doubt That it might not; ‘but what is this about?’ I dared not speak directly, but I strove To keep my subjects, harmony and love. “Coolly my father look’d, and much enjoy’d 190 The broken eloquence his eye destroy’d; Yet less confused, and more resolved at last, With bolder effort to my point I past; And, fondly speaking of my peerless maid, } I call’d her worth and beauty to my aid; } ‘Then make her mine!’ I said, and for his favour pray’d. } “My father’s look was one I seldom saw; It gave no pleasure, nor created awe: It was the kind of cool contemptuous smile Of witty persons, overcharged with bile; 200 At first he spoke not, nor at last to me-- “‘Well now, and what if such a thing could be? What, if the boy should his addresses pay To the tall girl, would that old tory say? I have no hatred to the dog--but, still,