Of a young Sailor, he the nymph espied, 330 As, homeward hastening with her happy boy, She went to join the party, and enjoy. “Fie!” Phœbe cried, as her companion spoke, Yet laugh’d to hear the fie-compelling joke;— Then ’twas her chance to meet, her shame to know, } Her tender Richard, moving sad and slow, } Musing on things full strange, the manners of the Row. } At first amazed, and then alarm’d, the fair Late-laughing maid now stood in dumb despair. As when a debtor meets in human shape 340 The foe of debtors, and cannot escape, He stands in terror, nor can longer aim To keep his credit, or preserve his name, Stood Phœbe fix’d! “Unlucky time and place! An earlier hour had kept me from disgrace!” She thought—but now the sailor, undismay’d, Said, “My dear Phœbe, why are you afraid? The man seems civil, or he soon should prove That I can well defend the girl I love. Are you not mine?” She utter’d no reply:— 350} “Thine I must be,” she thought; “more foolish I!” } While Richard at the scene stood mute and wondering by. } His spirits hurried, but his bosom light, He left his Phœbe with a calm “good night!” So Love like Friendship fell! The youth awhile Dreamt, sorely moved, of Phœbe’s witching smile— But learned in daylight visions to forego The Sailor’s laughing Lass, the Phœbe of the Row. Home turn’d young Richard, in due time to turn, With all old Richard’s zeal, the leaves of Burn; 360 And home turned Phœbe—in due time to grace A tottering cabin with a tattered race. TALE XVIII. _THE BOAT RACE._ I.