Throughout the lanes, she glides at evening’s close, And softly lulls her Infant to repose; Then sits and gazes but with viewless look, As gilds the Moon the rimpling of the brook; And sings her vespers, but in voice so low, She hears their murmurs as the waters flow; And she too murmurs and begins to find The solemn wanderings of a wounded mind; Visions of terror, views of woe succeed, The mind’s impatience, to the body’s need; By turns to that, by turns to this a prey, She knows what Reason yields and dreads what Madness may. Next with their Boy, a decent Couple came, And call’d him _Robert_, ’twas his Father’s name; Three Girls preceded, all by time endear’d, And future Births were neither hop’d nor fear’d; Blest in each other, but to no excess; Health, quiet, comfort, form’d their happiness; Love all made up of torture and delight, Was but mere madness in this Couple’s sight: _Susan_ could think, though not without a sigh, If she were gone, who should her place supply? And _Robert_ half in earnest, half in jest, Talk of her Spouse when he should be at rest; Yet strange would either think it to be told, Their love was cooling or their hearts were cold; Few were their Acres,--but they, well content, Were on each pay-day, ready with their rent; And few their wishes--what their Farm denied, The neighbouring town, at trifling cost, supplied; If at the Draper’s window, _Susan_ cast A longing look, as with her goods she pass’d; And with the produce of the wheel and churn, Bought her a Sunday-robe on her return; True to her maxim, she would take no rest, Till care repay’d that portion to the Chest: Or if, when loitering at the Whitsun-fair, Her _Robert_ spent some idle shillings there; Up at the Barn, before the break of day, He made his labour for th’ indulgence pay; Thus both--that Waste itself might work in vain-- Wrought double tides, and all was well again. Yet though so prudent, there were times of joy, (The Day they wed, the Christening of the Boy,) When to the wealthier Farmers there was shown, Welcome unfeign’d, and plenty like their own; For _Susan_ serv’d the Great and had some pride, Among our topmost people to preside; Yet in that plenty, in that welcome free, There was the guiding nice Frugality; That in the festal as the frugal day, Has in a different mode, a sovereign sway: As tides the same attractive influence know In the least ebb and in their proudest flow; The wise Frugality that does not give, A life to saving but that saves to live, Sparing not pinching, mindful though not mean, O’er all presiding, yet in nothing seen.