This slave to petty wealth and rustic toil, This earth-devoted wooer of the soil.— But she with meekness took the wayward child, And sought to make the savage nature mild. But Jane her judgment with decision gave— 130 “Train not an idiot to oblige a slave.” “And where is Bloomer?” Richard would have said, But he was cautious, feeling, and afraid; And little either of the hero knew, And little sought—he might be married too. Now to his home, the morning visits past, Return’d the guest—that evening was his last. He met his Brother, and they spoke of those From whom his comforts in the village rose; Spoke of the favourites, whom so good and kind 140 It was peculiar happiness to find; Then for the sisters in their griefs they felt, And, sad themselves, on saddening subjects dwelt. But George was willing all this woe to spare, And let to-morrow be to-morrow’s care. He of his purchase talk’d—a thing of course, As men will boldly praise a new-bought horse. Richard was not to all its beauty blind, And promised still to seek, with hope to find: The price indeed——” “Yes, that,” said George, “is high; 150 But, if I bought not, one was sure to buy, Who might the social comforts we enjoy, And every comfort, lessen or destroy. “We must not always reckon what we give, But think how precious ’tis in peace to live; Some neighbour Nimrod might in very pride Have stirr’d my anger, and have then defied; Or worse, have loved, and teased me to excess By his kind care to give me happiness; Or might his lady and her daughters bring 160 To raise my spirits, to converse, and sing. ’Twas not the benefit alone I view’d, But thought what horrid things I might exclude. “Some party man might here have sat him down, Some country champion, railing at the crown; Or some true courtier, both prepared to prove, Who loved not them, could not their country love: If we have value for our health and ease, Should we not buy off enemies like these?” So pass’d the evening in a quiet way, 170 When, lo! the morning of the parting day. Each to the table went with clouded look, And George in silence gazed upon a book; Something that chance had offer’d to his view— He knew not what, or cared not, if he knew. Richard his hand upon a paper laid— His vacant eye upon the carpet stray’d; His tongue was talking something of the day, And his vex’d mind was wandering on his way. They spake by fits—but neither had concern 180 In the replies—they nothing wish’d to learn, Nor to relate; each sat as one who tries To baffle sadnesses and sympathies. Each of his Brother took a steady view— As actor he, and as observer too. Richard, whose heart was ever free and frank, Had now a trial, and before it sank: He thought his Brother—parting now so near— Appear’d not as his Brother should appear;