The weightier Purchase ask’d her _Reuben_’s Care; Together then their last Year’s Gain they threw, And lo! an auction’d Bed, with Curtains neat and new. Thus both, as Prudence counsell’d, wisely stay’d, And cheerful then the Calls of Love obey’d: What if, when _Rachel_ gave her Hand, ’twas one Embrown’d by Winter’s Ice and Summer’s Sun; What if, in _Reuben_’s Hair, the female Eye Usurping Grey among the Black could spy; What if in both, Life’s bloomy Flush was lost, And their full Autumn felt the mellowing Frost; Yet Time, who blow’d the Rose of Youth away, Had left the vigorous Stem without decay; Like those tall Elms, in Farmer _Frankford_’s Ground, They’ll grow no more,--but all their Growth is sound; By time confirm’d and rooted in the Land, The storms they’ve stood, still promise they shall stand. These are the happier Pairs, their Life has rest, Their Hopes are strong, their humble Portion blest; While those more rash to hasty Marriage led, Lament th’ impatience which now stints their Bread; When such their Union, years of Pain they know, Their Joys come seldom and their Pains pass slow; In Health just fed, in Sickness just reliev’d; By Hardships harass’d and by Children griev’d; In petty Quarrels and in peevish Strife, The once fond Couple waste the Spring of Life; But when to Age mature those Children grown, Find Hopes and Homes and Hardships of their own; The harass’d Couple feel their lingering Woes Then passing off and find, at length, Repose. Complaints and Murmurs then are laid aside, (By Reason these subdued and those by Pride,) And calm in Cares with Patience Man and Wife, Agree to share the Bitter-sweet of Life; (Life that has Sorrow much and Sorrow’s Cure, Where they who most enjoy shall much endure;) Their Rest, their Labour, Duties, Sufferings, Prayers, Compose the Soul and fit it for its Cares; Their Graves before them and their Griefs behind, Have each a Med’cine for the Rustic Mind; Nor has he care to whom his Wealth shall go, Or who shall labour with his Spade and Hoe; But as he lends the Strength that yet remains, And some dead Neighbour on his Bier sustains, (One with whom oft he whirl’d the bounding Flail, Toss’d the broad Coite or took th’ inspiring Ale): “For me,” (he meditates,) “shall soon be done, “This friendly Duty, when my Race be run; “‘Twas first in Trouble as in Error past, } “Dark Clouds and stormy Cares whole Years o’ercast, } “But calm my setting Day and Sunshine smiles at last:} “My Vices punish’d and my Follies spent, “Not loth to die but yet to live content, “I rest:”--then casting on the Grave his eye, His Friend compels a Tear and his own Griefs a Sigh.