'Young Mon, I'll not apologize to you, 'Nor name intrusion, for my news is true; 'Tis duty brings me here: your wants I've heard, 'And can relieve: yet be the dead rever'd. 'Here, in this Purse, (what should have cheer'd a Wife,) 'Lies, half the savings of your Uncle's life! 'I know your history, and your wishes know; 'And love to see the seeds of Virtue grow. 'I've a spare Shed that fronts the public road: 'Make that your Shop; I'll make it your abode. 'Thus much from me,--the rest is but your due.' That instant twenty pieces sprung to view. Goody, her dim eyes wiping, rais'd her brow, And saw the young pair look they knew not how; Perils and Power while humble minds forego, Who gives them half a Kingdom gives them woe; Comforts may be procur'd and want defied, Heav'ns! with how small a Sum, when right applied! _How little of outward Good suffices for Happiness._ Give Love and honest Industry their way, Clear but the Sun-rise of Life's little day, Those we term poor shall oft that wealth obtain, For which th' ambitious sigh, but sigh in vain: Wealth that still brightens, as its stores increase; The calm of Conscience, and the reign of Peace. Walter's enamour'd Soul, from news like this, Now felt the dawnings of his future bliss; E'en as the Red-breast shelt'ring in a bower, Mourns the short darkness of a passing Shower, Then, while the azure sky extends around, Darts on a worm that breaks the moisten'd ground, And mounts the dripping fence, with joy elate, And shares the prize triumphant with his mate; So did the Youth;--the treasure straight became An humble servant to Love's sacred flame; Glorious subjection!--Thus his silence broke: Joy gave him words; still quick'ning as he spoke. _Joy above Wealth_. 'Want was my dread, my wishes were but few; Others might doubt, but JANE those wishes knew: This Gold may rid my heart of pains and sighs; But her true love is still my greatest prize, Long as I live, when this bright day comes round, Beneath my Roof your noble deeds shall sound; But, first, to make my gratitude appear, I'll shoe your Honour's Horses for a Year; If clouds should threaten when your Corn is down, I'll lend a hand, and summon half the town; If good betide, I'll sound it in my songs, And be the first avenger of your wrongs: Though rude in manners, free I hope to live: This Ale's not mine, no Ale have I to give; Yet, Sir, though Fortune frown'd when I was born, Let's drink eternal friendship from this Horn. How much our present joy to you we owe, Soon our three Bells shall let the Neighbours know; _Grateful frankness_. 'The sound shall raise e'en stooping Age awhile, 'And every Maid shall meet you with a smile; 'Long may you _live_'--the wish like lightning flew; By each repeated as the 'Squire withdrew. 'Long may _you_ live,' his feeling heart rejoin'd; Leaving well-pleas'd such happy Souls behind. Hope promis'd fair to cheer them to the end; With Love their guide, and Goody for their friend. [Illustration]