Thus many a hungry day the Boy has fared, And would have ask’d a dinner, had he dared. When boys are playing, he for hours of school Has sums to set, and copy-books to rule; 50 When all are met, for some sad dunce afraid, He, by allowance, lends his timely aid— Taught at the student’s failings to connive, Yet keep his Father’s dignity alive; For ev’n Nathaniel fears, and might offend, If too severe, the farmer, now his friend; Or her, that farmer’s lady, who well knows Her boy is bright, and needs nor threats nor blows. This seem’d to Peter hard; and he was loth, T’ obey and rule, and have the cares of both— 60 To miss the master’s dignity, and yet, No portion of the school-boy’s play to get. To him the Fiend, as once to Launcelot, cried, “Run from thy wrongs!”—“Run where?” his fear replied. “Run!”—said the Tempter; “if but hard thy fare, Hard is it now—it _may_ be mended there.” But still, though tempted, he refused to part, And felt the Mother clinging at his heart. Nor this alone—he, in that weight of care, Had help, and bore it as a man should bear. 70 A drop of comfort in his cup was thrown; It was his treasure, and it was his own. His Father’s shelves contained a motley store Of letter’d wealth; and this he might explore. A part his mother in her youth had gain’d, } A part Nathaniel from his club obtain’d, } And part—a well-worn kind—from sire to son remain’d. } He sought his Mother’s hoard, and there he found Romance in sheets, and poetry unbound; Soft Tales of Love, which never damsel read, 80 But tears of pity stain’d her virgin bed. There were Jane Shore and Rosamond the Fair, And humbler heroines frail as these were there; There was a tale of one forsaken Maid, Who till her death the work of vengeance stay’d; Her Lover, then at sea, while round him stood A dauntless crew, the angry ghost pursued; In a small boat, without an oar or sail, She came to call him, nor would force avail, Nor prayer; but, conscience-stricken, down he leapt, 90 And o’er his corse the closing billows slept; All vanish’d then! but of the crew were some Wondering whose ghost would on the morrow come. A learned Book was there, and in it schemes How to cast Fortunes and interpret Dreams; Ballads were there of Lover’s bliss or bale, The Kitchen Story, and the Nursery Tale. His hungry mind disdain’d not humble food, And read with relish keen of Robin Hood; Of him, all-powerful made by magic gift 100 And Giants slain—of mighty Hickerthrift; Through Crusoe’s Isle delighted had he stray’d; } Nocturnal visits had to witches paid, } Gliding through haunted scenes, enraptured and afraid. } A loftier shelf with real books was graced, Bound, or part bound, and ranged in comely taste: Books of high mark, the mind’s more solid food, Which some might think the owner understood;