"He is too just to act the tyrant's part, "He's truth itself." O how my burthen'd heart Sigh'd for relief!--soon that relief was found; Without one word we traced the meadow round, Her feverish hand in mine, and weigh'd the case, Nor dared to look each other in the face; Till, with a sudden stop, as if from fear, I roused her sinking spirit, "Who comes here?" Down the green slope before us, glowing warm, Came Alfred, tugging at his mother's arm; Willing she seem'd, but he still led the way, She had not walk'd so fast for many a day; His hand was lifted, and his brow was bare, For now no clust'ring ringlets wanton'd there, He threw them back in anger and in spleen, And shouted "Jennet" o'er the daisied green. Boyish impatience strove with manly grace In ev'ry line and feature of his face; His claim appear'd resistless as his choice, And when he caught the sound of Jennet's voice, And when with spotless soul he clasp'd the maid, My heart exulted while my breath was staid. "Jennet, we must not part! return again; "What have I done to merit all this pain? "Dear mother, share my fortune with the poor, "Jennet is mine, and _shall_ be--say no more; "Bowman, you know not what a friend I'll be; "Give me your daughter, Bowman, give her me; "Jennet, what will my days be if you go? "A dreary darkness, and a life of woe: "My dearest love, come _home_, and do not cry; "You are my daylight, Jennet, I shall die." To such appeals all prompt replies are cold, And stately prudence snaps her cobweb hold. Had the good widow tried, or wish'd to speak, This was a bond she could not, dared not break; Their hearts (you never saw their likeness, never) Were join'd, indissolubly join'd for ever. Why need I tell how soon our tears were dried. How Jennet blush'd, how Alfred with a stride Bore off his prize, and fancied every charm, And clipp'd against his ribs her trembling arm; How mute we seniors stood, our power all gone? Completely conquer'd, Love the day had won, And the young vagrant triumph'd in our plight, And shook his roguish plumes, and laugh'd outright. Yet, by my life and hopes, I would not part With this sweet recollection from my heart; I would not now forget that tender scene To wear a crown, or make my girl a queen. Why need be told how pass'd the months along, How sped the summer's walk, the winter's song, How the foil'd suitor all his hopes gave up, How Providence with rapture fill'd their cup? No dark regrets, no tragic scenes to prove, The gardener was too old to die for love. A thousand incidents I cast aside To tell but one--I gave away the bride-- Gave the dear youth what kings could not have given; Then bless'd them both, and put my trust in Heaven. There the old neighbours laugh'd the night away, Who talk of Jennet's wedding to this day. And could you but have seen the modest grace, The half-hid smiles that play'd in Jennet's face, Or mark'd the bridegroom's bounding heart o'erflow, You might have wept for joy, as I could now: