Her lasting love, her life that would not last; Her power! her place! what interest! what respect She had acquired—“and shall we her neglect?”— 280 “No, Frances, no!” he answer’d, “you are right; But things appear in such a different light!” Her parents blest her, and as well became Their love advised her, that they might not blame; They said, “If she should earl or countess meet She should be humble, cautious, and discreet; Humble, but not abased, remembering all Are kindred sinners—children of the fall; That from the earth our being we receive, And are all equal when the earth we leave.” 290 They then advised her in a modest way To make replies to what my lord might say; Her aunt would aid her, who was now become With nobles noble, and with lords at home. So went the pair; and William told at night Of a reception gracious and polite; He spake of galleries long and pictures tall; The handsome parlours, the prodigious hall; The busts, the statues, and the floors of stone; The storied arras, and the vast saloon, 300 In which was placed an Indian chest and screen, With figures such as he had never seen: He told of these as men enraptured tell, And gave to all their praise, and all was well. Left by the lover, the desponding maid Was of the matron’s ridicule afraid; But, when she heard a welcome frank and kind, The wonted firmness repossess’d her mind; Pleased by the looks of love her aunt display’d, Her fond professions, and her kind parade. 310 In her own room, and with her niece apart, She gave up all the secrets of her heart; And, grown familiar, bid her Fanny come, Partake her cheer, and make herself at home. Shut in that room, upon its cheerful board She laid the comforts of no vulgar hoard; Then press’d the damsel both with love and pride, For both she felt—and would not be denied. Grace she pronounced before and after meat, And bless’d her God that she could talk and eat; 320 Then with new glee she sang her patron’s praise—— “He had no paltry arts, no pimping ways; She had the roast and boil’d of every day, That sent the poor with grateful hearts away; And she was grateful——Come, my darling, think Of them you love the best, and let us drink.” And now she drank the healths of those above, Her noble friends, whom she must ever love; But not together, not the young and old, But one by one, the number duly told; 330 And told their merits too—there was not one Who had not said a gracious thing or done; Nor could she praise alone, but she would take A cheerful glass for every favourite’s sake, And all were favourites—till the rosy cheek Spoke for the tongue that nearly ceased to speak; That rosy cheek that now began to shine, And show the progress of the rosy wine. But there she ended—felt the singing head, Then pray’d as custom will’d, and so to bed. 340