And bend like one made ready for the whip. O! come, I trifle, let me haste away— What! throw it up, when I have cards to play?” The Doctor went, a self-invited guest; He met his pupil, and his frown repress’d, For in those lowering looks he could discern Resistance sullen and defiance stern; Yet was it painful to put off his style Of awful distance, and assume a smile: 360 So between these, the gracious and the grand, Succeeded nothing that the Doctor plann’d. The sullen youth, with some reviving dread, Bow’d and then hang’d disconsolate his head; And, muttering welcome in a muffled tone, Stalk’d cross the park to meditate alone, Saying, or rather seeming to have said, “Go! seek your daughter, and be there obey’d.” He went—The daughter her distresses told, But found her father to her interests cold; 370 He kindness and complacency advised; She answer’d, “these were sure to be despised; That of the love her husband once possess’d Not the least spark was living in his breast; The boy repented, and grew savage soon; There never shone for her a honey-moon. Soon as he came, his cares all fix’d on one— Himself, and all his passion was a gun; And, though he shot as he did all beside, It still remained his only joy and pride. 380 He left her there—she knew not where he went— But knew full well he should the slight repent; She was not one his daily taunts to bear, He made the house a hell that he should share; For, till he gave her power herself to please, Never for him should be a moment’s ease.” “He loves you, child!” the softening father cried.— He loves himself, and not a soul beside. Loves me!—why, yes, and so he did the pears You caught him stealing—would he had the fears! 390 Would you could make him tremble for his life, And then to you return the stolen wife, Richly endow’d—but, O! the idiot knows The worth of every penny he bestows. “Were he but fool alone, I’d find a way To govern him, at least to have my day; Or were he only brute, I’d watch the hour, And make the brute-affection yield me power; But silly both and savage—O! my heart! It is too great a trial!—we must part.”— 400 “Oblige the savage by some act!”—“The debt, You find, the fool will instantly forget; Oblige the fool with kindness or with praise, And you the passions of the savage raise.”— “Time will do much.”—“Can time my name restore?”— “Have patience, child.”—“I am a child no more, Nor more dependent; but, at woman’s age, I feel that wrongs provoke me and enrage. Sir, could you bring me comfort, I were cool; But keep your counsel for your boys at school.” 410 The Doctor then departed—Why remain } To hear complaints, who could himself complain, } Who felt his actions wrong, and knew his efforts vain? } The sullen youth, contending with his fate, Began the darling of his heart to hate;