WALTER caught fire: nor was _he_ charm'd alone With conscious Truth's firm elevated tone; JANE from her seat sprang forward, half afraid, Attesting with a blush what Goody said. Her Lover took a more decided part:-- (O! 'twas the very Chord that touch'd his heart,)-- Alive to the best feelings man can prize, A Bridegroom's transport sparkled in his eyes; Love, conquering power, with unrestricted range Silenc'd the arguments of Time and Change; And led his vot'ry on, and bade him view, And prize the light-wing'd moments as they flew: _The Confession._ All doubts gave way, all retrospective lore, Whence cooler Reason tortur'd him before; Comparison of times, the Lab'rer's hire, And many a truth Reflection might inspire, Sunk powerless. 'Dame, I am a fool,' he cried; 'Alone I might have reason'd till I died. 'I caus'd those tears of Jane's:--but as they fell 'How much I felt none but ourselves can tell. 'While dastard fears withheld me from her sight; 'Sighs reign'd by day and hideous dreams by night; ''Twas then the Soldier's plume and rolling Drum 'Seem'd for a while to strike my sorrows dumb; 'To fly from Care then half resolv'd I stood, 'And without horror mus'd on fields of blood, 'But Hope prevail'd.--Be then the sword resign'd; 'And I'll make _Shares_ for those that stay behind, 'And you, sweet Girl,'------ He would have added more, Had not a glancing shadow at the door _Unexpected Visit._ Announc'd a guest, who bore with winning grace His well-tim'd errand pictur'd in his face. Around with silent reverence they stood; A blameless reverence--the man was good. Wealth he had some, a match for his desires, First on the list of active Country 'Squires. Seeing the youthful pair with downcast eyes, Unmov'd by Summer-flowers and cloudless skies, Pass slowly by his Gate; his book resign'd, He watch'd their steps and follow'd far behind, Bearing with inward joy, and honest pride, A trust of WALTER'S kinsman ere he died, A hard-earn'd mite, deposited with care, And with a miser's spirit worshipt there. He found what oft the generous bosom seeks, In the Dame's court'seys and JANE'S blushing cheeks, That consciousness of Worth, that freeborn Grace, Which waits on Virtue in the meanest place. _The Difficulty remov'd_