I would have skulk'd away, but dare not move, "Besides," thought I, "they will not talk of love;" But I was wrong, for Alfred, with a sigh, A little tremulous, a little shy, But, with the tenderest accents, ask'd his guide A question which might touch both love and pride. "This morning, Jennet, why did you delay, "And talk to that strange clown upon your way, "Our homespun gardener? how can you bear "His screech-owl tones upon your perfect ear? "I cannot like that man, yet know not why, "He's surely quite as old again as I; "He's ignorant, and cannot be your choice, "And ugly too, I'm certain, by his voice, "Besides, he call'd you pretty."--"Well, what then? "I cannot hide my face from all the men; "Alfred, indeed, indeed, you are deceived, "He never spoke a word that I believed; "Nay, can he think that I would leave a home "Full of enjoyment, present, and to come, "While your dear mother's favours daily prove "How sweet the bonds of gratitude and love? "No, while beneath her roof I shall remain, "I'll never vex you, never give you pain." "Enough, my life," he cried, and up they sprung; By Heaven, I almost wish'd that I was young; It was a dainty sight to see them pass, Light as the July fawns upon the grass, Pure as the breath of spring when forth it spreads, Love in their hearts, and sunshine on their heads. Next day I felt what I was bound to do, To weigh the adventure well, and tell it too; For Alfred's mother must not be beguiled, He was her earthly hope, her only child; I had no wish, no right to pass it by, It might bring grief, perhaps calamity. She was the judge, and she alone should know Whether to check the flame or let it grow. I went with fluttering heart, and moisten'd eye, But strong in truth, and arm'd for her reply. "Well, master Bowman, why that serious face?" Exclaim'd the lovely dame, with such a grace, That had I knelt before her, I had been Not quite the simplest votary ever seen. I told my tale, and urged that well-known truth, That the soft passion in the bloom of youth Starts into power, and leads th' unconscious heart A chase where reason takes but little part; Nothing was more in nature, or more pure, And from their habits nothing was more sure. Whether the lady blush'd from pride or joy, I could but guess;--at length she said--"My boy Dropp'd not a syllable of this to me! What was I doing, that I could not see? Through all the anxious hours that I have known, His welfare still was dearer than my own; How have I mourn'd o'er his unhappy fate! Blind as he is! the heir to my estate! I now might break his heart, and Jennet's too; What must I, Bowman, or what can I do?"-- "Do, madam?" said I, boldly, "if you trace "Impending degradation or disgrace "In this attachment, let us not delay; "Send my girl home, and check it while you may." "I will," she said, but the next moment sigh'd; Parental love was struggling hard with pride.