And cannot I my pretty Clara rule? Is not this better than a noisy school?” The Doctor thought and mused; he felt and fear’d; Wish’d it to be—then wish’d he had not heard; But he was angry—that at least was right, And gave him credit in his lady’s sight;— Then, milder grown, yet something still severe, He said, “Consider, Madam, think and fear;” But, ere they parted, softening to a smile, “Farewell!” said he—“I’ll think myself awhile.” 170 James and his Clara had, with many a pause And many a doubt, infringed the Doctor’s laws; At first with terror, and with eyes turn’d round On every side for fear they should be found, In the long passage, and without the gate, They met, and talk’d of love and his estate; Sweet little notes, and full of hope, were laid Where they were found by the attentive maid; And these she answer’d kindly as she could, But still ‘I dare not’ waited on ‘I would;’ 180 Her fears and wishes she in part confess’d, Her thoughts and views she carefully suppress’d; Her Jemmy said at length, “He did not heed His guardian’s anger—What was he, indeed? A tradesman once, and had his fortune gain’d In that low way—such anger he disdain’d— He loved her pretty looks, her eyes of blue, Her auburn-braid, and lips that shone like dew; And did she think her Jemmy stay’d at school To study Greek?—What, take him for a fool? 190 Not he, by Jove! for what he had to seek He would in English ask her, not in Greek; Will you be mine? are all your scruples gone? Then let’s be off—I’ve that will take us on.” ’Twas true; the clerk of an attorney there Had found a Jew—the Jew supplied the heir. Yet had he fears—“My guardians may condemn The choice I make—but what is that to them? The more they strive my pleasure to restrain, The less they’ll find they’re likely to obtain; 200 For when they work one to a proper cue, What they forbid one takes delight to do.” Clara exulted—now the day would come Belwood must take her in her carriage home; “Then I shall hear what Envy will remark, When I shall sport the ponies in the park; When my friend Jane will meet me at the ball, And see me taken out the first of all; I see her looks when she beholds the men All crowd about me—she will simper then, 210 And cry with her affected air and voice, ‘O! my sweet Clara, how do I rejoice At your good fortune!’—‘Thank you, dear,’ say I; ‘But some there are that could for envy die.’” Mamma look’d on with thoughts to these allied; She felt the pleasure of reflected pride; She should respect in Clara’s honour find— But she to Clara’s secret thoughts was blind; O! when we thus design we do but spread Nets for our feet, and to our toils are led; 220 Those whom we think we rule their views attain, And we partake the guilt without the gain. The Doctor long had thought, till he became A victim both to avarice and shame;