He in that hero’s deeds could not delight— “He loved two ladies, and he would not fight.” 40 The minor works of this prolific kind Presented beings he could never find: Beings, he thought, that no man should describe, A vile, intriguing, lying, perjured tribe, With impious habits, and dishonest views; The men he knew, had souls they feared to lose; These had no views that could their sins controul, With them nor fears nor hopes disturb’d the soul. To dear Romance with fresh delight he turn’d, And vicious men, like recreant cowards, spurn’d. 50 The Scripture Stories he with reverence read, And duly took his Bible to his bed. Yet Joshua, Samson, David, were a race He dared not with his favourite heroes place. Young as he was, the difference well he knew Between the Truth, and what we fancy true: He was with these entranced, of those afraid, With Guy he triumph’d, but with David pray’d. II. _P._ Such was the Boy, and what the man would be, I might conjecture, but could not foresee. 60 _F._ He has his trials met, his troubles seen, And now deluded, now deserted, been. His easy nature has been oft assail’d By grief assumed, scorn hid, and flattery veil’d. _P._ But has he, safe and cautious, shunn’d the snares That life presents?—I ask not of its cares. _F._ Your gentle Boy a course of life began That made him, what he is, the gentle-man, A man of business. He in courts presides Among their Worships, whom his judgment guides. 70 He in the Temple studied, and came down A very lawyer, though without a gown; Still he is kind, but prudent, steady, just, And takes but little that he hears on trust. He has no visions now, no boyish plans; All his designs and prospects are the man’s, The man of sound discretion— _P._ How so made? What could his mind to change like this persuade— What first awaken’d our romantic friend— For such he is— _F._ If you would know, attend. 80 In those gay years, when boys their manhood prove, Because they talk of girls, and dream of love, In William’s way there came a maiden fair, With soft, meek look, and sweet, retiring air; With just the rosy tint upon her cheek, With sparkling eye, and tongue unused to speak; With manner decent, quiet, chaste, that one, Modest himself, might love to look upon. As William look’d; and thus the gentle Squire Began the Nymph, albeit poor, t’admire. 90 She was, to wit, the gardener’s niece; her place Gave to her care the Lady’s silks and lace; With other duties of an easy kind, } And left her time, as much she felt inclined, } T’adorn her graceful form, and fill her craving mind; } Nay, left her leisure to employ some hours Of the long day, among her uncle’s flowers— Myrtle and rose, of which she took the care,