Yet patient, pensive, arm’d by thoughts sublime, She watch’d the tardy steps of lingering time. My friend, with face that most would handsome call, Possess’d the charm that wins the heart of all; And, thrice entreated by a lover’s prayer, 780 She thrice refused him with determined air. “No! had the world one monarch, and was he All that the heart could wish its lord to be-- Lovely and loving, generous, brave, and true-- Vain were his hopes to waken hers anew!” For she was wedded to ideal views, And fancy’s prospects, that she would not lose, Would not forego to be a mortal’s wife, And wed the poor realities of life. There was a day, ere yet the autumn closed, 790 When, ere her wintry wars, the earth reposed; When from the yellow weed the feathery crown, Light as the curling smoke, fell slowly down; When the wing’d insect settled in our sight, And waited wind to recommence her flight; When the wide river was a silver sheet, And on the ocean slept th’ unanchor’d fleet; When from our garden, as we look’d above, There was no cloud, and nothing seem’d to move; Then was my friend in ecstasies--she cried, 800 “There is, I feel there is, a world beside! Martha, dear Martha! we shall hear not then Of hearts distress’d by good or evil men, But all will constant, tender, faithful be-- So had I been, and so had one with me; But in this world the fondest and the best Are the most tried, most troubled, and distress’d: This is the place for trial, here we prove, And there enjoy, the faithfulness of love. “Nay, were he here in all the pride of youth, 810 With honour, valour, tenderness, and truth, Entirely mine, yet what could I secure, Or who one day of comfort could insure? “No! all is closed on earth, and there is now Nothing to break th’ indissoluble vow; But in that world will be th’ abiding bliss, That pays for every tear and sigh in this.” Such her discourse, and more refined it grew, Till she had all her glorious dream in view; And she would further in that dream proceed 820 Than I dare go, who doubtfully agreed. Smiling I ask’d, again to draw the soul From flight so high, and fancy to control, “If this be truth, the lover’s happier way Is distant still to keep the purposed day; The real bliss would mar the fancied joy, And marriage all the dream of love destroy.” She softly smiled, and, as we gravely talk’d, We saw a man who up the gravel walk’d-- Not quite erect, nor quite by age depress’d; 830 A travell’d man, and as a merchant dress’d. Large chain of gold upon his watch he wore, Small golden buckles on his feet he bore; A head of gold his costly cane display’d, And all about him love of gold betray’d.