This, and this only, gave the lover pain, He thought it needless, and he judged it vain. Advice in hints he to the fault applied, And talk’d of sin, of vanity, and pride. “And what is proud,” said Frances, “but to stand Singing at church, and sawing thus your hand? Looking at heaven above, as if to bring The holy angels down to hear you sing? 160 And, when you write, you try with all your skill, And cry, no wonder that you wrote so ill! For you were ever to yourself a rule, And humbly add, you never were at school— Is that not proud?—And I have heard beside, The proudest creatures have the humblest pride. If you had read the volumes I have hired, You’d see your fault, nor try to be admired; For they who read such books can always tell The fault within, and read the mind as well.” 170 William had heard of hiring books before; He knew she read, and he inquired no more. On him the subject was completely lost; What he regarded was the time and cost; Yet that was trifling—just a present whim: “Novels and stories! what were they to him?” With such slight quarrels, or with those as slight, They lived in love, and dream’d of its delight. Her duties Fanny knew, both great and small, And she with diligence observed them all. 180 If e’er she fail’d a duty to fulfil, ’Twas childish error, not rebellious will; For her much reading, though it touch’d her heart, Could neither vice nor indolence impart. Yet, when from William and her friends retired, She found her reading had her mind inspired With hopes and thoughts of high mysterious things, Such as the early dream of kindness brings; And then she wept, and wonder’d as she read, And new emotions in her heart were bred. 190 She sometimes fancied that, when love was true, ’Twas more than she and William ever knew; More than the shady lane in summer-eve; More than the sighing when he took his leave; More than his preference when the lads advance And choose their partners for the evening dance; Nay, more than midnight thoughts and morning dreams, Or talk when love and marriage are the themes: In fact, a something not to be defined, } Of all subduing, all commanding kind, 200} That fills the fondest heart, that rules the proudest mind. } But on her lover Fanny still relied, } Her best companion, her sincerest guide, } On whom she could rely, in whom she would confide. } All jealous fits were past; in either now Were tender wishes for the binding vow. There was no secret one alone possess’d; There was no hope that warm’d a single breast: Both felt the same concerns their thoughts employ, And neither knew one solitary joy. 210 Then why so easy, William? why consent To wait so long? thou wilt at last repent; “Within a month,” does Care and Prudence say, If all be ready, linger not a day;