Richard one morning—it was custom now— Walk’d and conversed with labourers at the plough; With thrashers hastening to their daily task; With woodmen resting o’er the enlivening flask; And with the shepherd, watchful of his fold Beneath the hill, and pacing in the cold. Further afield he sometimes would proceed, And take a path, wherever it might lead. It led him far about to Wickham Green, Where stood the mansion of the village queen; 10 Her garden yet its wintry blossoms bore, And roses graced the windows and the door— That lasting kind, that through the varying year, Or in the bud or in the bloom, appear; All flowers that now the gloomy days adorn Rose on the view, and smiled upon that morn. Richard a damsel at the window spied, Who kindly drew a useless veil aside, And show’d a lady who was sitting by, So pensive, that he almost heard her sigh; 20 Full many years she could, no question, tell, But in her mourning look’d extremely well. “In truth,” said Richard, when he told at night His tale to George, “it was a pleasant sight; She look’d like one who could, in tender tone, Say, ‘Will you let a lady sigh alone? See! Time has touch’d me gently in his race, And left no odious furrows in my face; See, too, this house and garden, neat and trim, Kept for its master——Will you stand for him?’ 30 “Say this is vain and foolish if you please, But I believe her thoughts resembled these. ‘Come!’ said her looks, ‘and we will kindly take The visit kindness prompted you to make.’ And I was sorry that so much good play } Of eye and attitude were thrown away } On one who has his lot, on one who had his day.” } “Your pity, brother,” George, with smile, replied, You may dismiss, and with it send your pride: No need of pity, when the gentle dame 40 Has thrice resign’d and reassumed her name; And be not proud—for, though it might be thine, She would that hand to humbler men resign. “Young she is not,—it would be passing strange If a young beauty thrice her name should change. Yes! she has years beyond your reckoning seen— Smiles and a window years and wrinkles screen; But she, in fact, has that which may command The warm admirer and the willing hand: What is her fortune we are left to guess, 50 But good the sign—she does not much profess. Poor she is not—and there is that in her That easy men to strength of mind prefer; She may be made, with little care and skill, Yielding her own, t’adopt an husband’s will. Women there are, who of a man will take The helm and steer—will no resistance make; Who, if neglected, will the power assume, And then what wonder if the shipwreck come? Queens they will be, if man allow the means, 60 And give the power to these domestic queens; Whom, if he rightly trains, he may create And make obedient members of his state.”