His mild, kind nature, and his proud self-love; Grateful he was, and with his courage meek— But he was hurt, and he resolved to speak. “Yes, my dear Brother! from my soul I grieve Thee and the proofs of thy regard to leave. Thou hast been all that I could wish—my pride Exults to find that I am thus allied; Yet, to express a feeling—how it came, The pain it gives, its nature and its name, 260 I know not—but of late, I will confess, Not that thy love is little, but is less. “Hadst thou received me in thy present mood, Sure I had held thee to be kind and good; But thou wert all the warmest heart could state, Affection dream, or hope anticipate; I must have wearied thee yet day by day— ‘Stay!’ said my Brother, and ’twas good to stay; But now, forgive me, thinking I perceive Change undefined, and as I think I grieve. 270 “Have I offended?—Proud although I be, I will be humble, and concede to thee. Have I intruded on thee when thy mind Was vex’d, and then to solitude inclined? O! there are times when all things will molest Minds so disposed, so heavy, so oppress’d; And thine, I know, is delicate and nice, Sickening at folly, and at war with vice: Then, at a time when thou wert vex’d with these, I have intruded, let affection tease, 280 And so offended.”—— “Richard, if thou hast, ’Tis at this instant, nothing in the past. No, thou art all a Brother’s love would choose; And, having lost thee, I shall interest lose In all that I possess; I pray thee tell Wherein thy host has fail’d to please thee well— Do I neglect thy comforts?”— “O! not thou, But art thyself uncomfortable now; And ’tis from thee and from thy looks I gain This painful knowledge—’tis my Brother’s pain; 290 And yet, that something in my spirit lives, Something that spleen excites and sorrow gives, I may confess—for not in thee I trace Alone this change, it is in all the place. Smile if thou wilt in scorn, for I am glad A smile at any rate is to be had. “But there is Jacques, who ever seem’d to treat Thy Brother kindly as we chanced to meet; Nor with thee only pleased our worthy guide, But, in the hedge-row path and green-wood side, 300 There he would speak with that familiar ease That makes a trifle, makes a nothing please. “But now to my farewell—and that I spoke With honest sorrow—with a careless look, Gazing unalter’d on some stupid prose— His sermon for the Sunday I suppose— ‘Going?’ said he: ‘why then the ’Squire and you Will part at last—You’re going?—Well, adieu!’ “True, we were not in friendship bound like those Who will adopt each other’s friends and foes, 310 Without esteem or hatred of their own— But still we were to intimacy grown; And, sure, of Jacques when I had taken leave It would have grieved me—and it ought to grieve;