But all things made a query or a jest; Perplex’d himself, he ever sought to prove That man is doom’d in endless doubt to rove; Himself in darkness he profess’d to be, 180 And would maintain that not a man could see. The youthful friend, dissentient, reason’d still Of the soul’s prowess, and the subject will; Of virtue’s beauty, and of honour’s force, And a warm zeal gave life to his discourse; Since from his feelings all his fire arose, And he had interest in the themes he chose. The friend, indulging a sarcastic smile, Said--“Dear enthusiast! thou wilt change thy style, When man’s delusions, errors, crimes, deceit, 190 No more distress thee, and no longer cheat.” Yet lo! this cautious man, so coolly wise, On a young beauty fix’d unguarded eyes; And her he married. Edward at the view Bade to his cheerful visits long adieu; But haply err’d, for this engaging bride No mirth suppress’d, but rather cause supplied; And, when she saw the friends, by reasoning long, Confused if right, and positive if wrong, With playful speech and smile, that spoke delight, 200 She made them careless both of wrong and right. This gentle damsel gave consent to wed, With school and school-day dinners in her head: She now was promised choice of daintiest food, And costly dress, that made her sovereign good; With walks on hilly heath to banish spleen, And summer-visits when the roads were clean. All these she loved, to these she gave consent, And she was married to her heart’s content. Their manner this--the friends together read, 210 Till books a cause for disputation bred; Debate then follow’d, and the vapour’d child Declared they argued till her head was wild; And strange to her it was that mortal brain Could seek the trial, or endure the pain. Then, as the friend reposed, the younger pair Sat down to cards, and play’d beside his chair; Till he, awaking, to his books applied, Or heard the music of th’ obedient bride. If mild the evening, in the fields they stray’d, 220 And their own flock with partial eye survey’d; But oft the husband, to indulgence prone, Resumed his book, and bade them walk alone. “Do, my kind Edward! I must take mine ease, Name the dear girl the planets and the trees; Tell her what warblers pour their evening song, What insects flutter, as you walk along; Teach her to fix the roving thoughts, to bind The wandering sense, and methodize the mind.” This was obey’d; and oft when this was done, 230 They calmly gazed on the declining sun; In silence saw the glowing landscape fade, Or, sitting, sang beneath the arbour’s shade: Till rose the moon, and on each youthful face Shed a soft beauty, and a dangerous grace.