Th’ untamed have been, in temper and in tongue; Have been trepann’d, have lived in toil and care, And wrought for wealth I was not doom’d to share; It touch’d me deeply, for I felt a pride In gaining riches for my destined bride. Speak, then, my fate; for these my sorrows past, Time lost, youth fled, hope wearied, and at last 280 This doubt of thee--a childish thing to tell, But certain truth--my very throat they swell; They stop the breath, and but for shame could I Give way to weakness, and with passion cry; These are unmanly struggles, but I feel This hour must end them, and perhaps will heal.”-- Here Dinah sigh’d as if afraid to speak-- And then repeated--“They were frail and weak; His soul she loved, and hoped he had the grace To fix his thoughts upon a better place.” 290 She ceased;--with steady glance, as if to see The very root of this hypocrisy, He her small fingers moulded in his hard And bronzed broad hand; then told her, his regard, His best respect were gone, but love had still Hold in his heart, and govern’d yet the will-- Or he would curse her;--saying this, he threw } The hand in scorn away, and bade adieu } To every lingering hope, with every care in view. } Proud and indignant, suffering, sick, and poor, 300 He grieved unseen, and spoke of love no more-- Till all he felt in indignation died, As hers had sunk in avarice and pride. In health declining, as in mind distress’d, To some in power his troubles he confess’d, And shares a parish-gift;--at prayers he sees The pious Dinah dropp’d upon her knees; Thence as she walks the street with stately air, As chance directs, oft meet the parted pair. When he, with thickset coat of badge-man’s blue, 310 Moves near her shaded silk of changeful hue; When his thin locks of grey approach her braid, A costly purchase made in beauty’s aid; When his frank air, and his unstudied pace, } Are seen with her soft manner, air, and grace. } And his plain artless look with her sharp meaning face: } It might some wonder in a stranger move, How these together could have talk’d of love. Behold them now!--see, there a tradesman stands, And humbly hearkens to some fresh commands; 320 He moves to speak, she interrupts him--“Stay,” Her air expresses--“Hark to what I say!” Ten paces off, poor Rupert on a seat Has taken refuge from the noon-day heat, His eyes on her intent, as if to find What were the movements of that subtle mind; How still! how earnest is he!--it appears His thoughts are wand’ring through his earlier years; Through years of fruitless labour, to the day When all his earthly prospects died away. 330