The youth beheld a fix’d and piercing eye, 120 From which his own receded; and the sound Of his own words was in disorder drown’d. He answered softly—“I in vain have spent Days in the search; I pray you be content; And, if a Will”—— The pertinacious Man, } At ‘if’ displeased, with steady tone began— } “There _is_ a Will—produce it, for you can.”— } “Sir, I have sought in vain, and what the use? What has no being, how can I produce?”— “Two days I give you; to my words attend,” 130 Was the reply, “and let the business end.” Two days were past, and still the same reply To the same question—“Not a Will have I.” More grave, more earnest, then the Friend appear’d; He spoke with power, as one who would be heard— “A Will your father made! I witness’d one.” The Heir arose in anger—“Sir, begone! Think you my spirit by your looks to awe? Go to your lodgings, friend, or to your law. To what would you our easy souls persuade? 140 Once more I tell you, not a Will was made; There’s none with me, I swear it—now, deny This if you can!”— “That, surely, cannot I; Nay, I believe you, and, as no such deed Is found with you, _this_ surely will succeed!”— He said, and from his pocket slowly drew } Of the first testament a copy true, } And held it spread abroad, that he might see it too. } “Read, and be sure; your parent’s pleasure see— Then leave this mansion and these lands to me.” 150 He said, and terror seized the guilty youth; He saw his misery, meanness, and the truth; Could not before his stern accuser stand, Yet could not quit that hall, that park, that land; But, when surprise had pass’d away, his grief Began to think in law to find relief. “While courts are open, why should I despair? Juries will feel for an abandon’d heir. I will resist,” he said, impell’d by pride— “I must submit,” recurring fear replied. 160 As wheels the vane when winds around it play, So his strong passions turn’d him every way; But growing terrors seized th’ unhappy youth: He knew the Man, and more, he knew—the Truth; When, stung by all he fear’d, and all he felt, He sought for mercy, and in terror knelt. Grieved, but indignant—“Let me not despise Thy father’s son,” replied the Friend; “arise! To my fix’d purpose your attention lend, And know, your fate will on yourself depend. 170 “Thou shalt not want, young man! nor yet abound, And time shall try thee, if thy heart be sound; Thou shalt be watch’d till thou hast learn’d to know Th’ All-seeing Watcher of the world below, And worlds above, and thoughts within; from Whom Must be thy certain, just, and final doom. Thy doors all closely barr’d, thy windows blind, Before all silent, silent all behind— Thy hand was stretch’d to do whate’er thy soul In secret would—no mortal could—controul. 180