And so from heart to heart is caught desire; He wonders how a gentle mind so long Resists the pleading of a love so strong— “And can that heart,” he cries, “that face belie, And know no softness? Will it yet deny?”— 380 “I tell thee, George, as I have told before, I feel a mother’s love, and feel no more; A child I bore thee in my arms, and how Could I—did prudence yield—receive thee now?” At her remonstrance hope revived, for oft He found her words severe, her accents soft; In eyes that threaten’d tears of pity stood, And truth she made as gracious as she could.— But, when she found the dangerous youth would seek His peace alone, and still his wishes speak, 390 Fearful she grew, that, opening thus his heart, He might to hers a dangerous warmth impart: All her objections slight to him appear’d— But one she had, and now it must be heard. “Yes, it must be! and he shall understand What powers, that are not of the world, command; So shall he cease, and I in peace shall live—” Sighing she spoke—“that widowhood can give!” Then to her lover turn’d, and gravely said, “Let due attention to my words be paid: 400 Meet me to-morrow, and resolve t’ obey;” Then named the hour and place, and went her way. Before that hour, or moved by spirit vain Of woman’s wish to triumph and complain, She had his parents summon’d, and had shown Their son’s strong wishes, nor conceal’d her own: “And do you give,” she said, “a parent’s aid } To make the youth of his strange love afraid; } And, be it sin or not, be all the shame display’d.” } The good old pastor wonder’d, seem’d to grieve, 410 And look’d suspicious on this child of Eve. He judged his boy, though wild, had never dared To talk of love, had not rebuke been spared; But he replied, in mild and tender tone, “It is not sin, and therefore shame has none.” The different ages of the pair he knew, And quite as well their different fortunes too: A meek, just man; but difference in his sight That made the match unequal made it right. “His son, his friend united, and become 420 Of his own hearth—the comforts of his home— Was it so wrong? Perhaps it was her pride That felt the distance, and the youth denied?” The blushing widow heard, and she retired, Musing on what her ancient friend desired; She could not, therefore, to the youth complain, That his good father wish’d him to refrain; She could not add, [‘Your] parents, George, obey, They will your absence’—no such will had they. Now, in th’ appointed minute met the pair, 430 Foredoom’d to meet: George made the lover’s prayer— That was heard kindly; then the lady tried For a calm spirit, felt it, and replied. “George, that I love thee why should I suppress? For ’tis a love that virtue may profess— Parental—frown not—tender, fix’d, sincere; }