Were thoughtless wandering in the broad highway: How tender damsels sail'd in tilted boats, And laugh'd with wicked men in scarlet coats; And how we live in such degen'rate times, That men conceal their wants and show their crimes; While vicious deeds are screen'd by fashion's name, And what was once our pride is now our shame. Dinah was musing, as her friends discoursed, When these last words a sudden entrance forced Upon her mind, and what was once her pride And now her shame, some painful views supplied; Thoughts of the past within her bosom press'd, And there a change was felt, and was confess'd: While thus the Virgin strove with secret pain, Her mind was wandering o'er the troubled main; Still she was silent, nothing seem'd to see, But sat and sigh'd in pensive reverie. The friends prepared new subjects to begin, When tall Susannah, maiden starch, stalk'd in; Not in her ancient mode, sedate and slow, As when she came, the mind she knew, to know; Nor as, when list'ning half an hour before, She twice or thrice tapp'd gently at the door; But all decorum cast in wrath aside, "I think the devil's in the man!" she cried; "A huge tall sailor, with his tawny cheek And pitted face, will with my lady speak; He grinn'd an ugly smile, and said he knew, Please you, my lady, 't would be joy to you: What must I answer?"--Trembling and distress'd Sank the pale Dinah by her fears oppress'd; When thus alarm'd and brooking no delay, Swift to her room the stranger made his way. "Revive, my love!" said he, "I've done thee harm; Give me thy pardon," and he look'd alarm: Meantime the prudent Dinah had contrived Her soul to question, and she then revived. "See! my good friend," and then she raised her head, "The bloom of life, the strength of youth is fled; Living we die; to us the world is dead; We parted bless'd with health, and I am now Age-struck and feeble--so I find art thou; Thine eye is sunken, furrow'd is thy face, And downward look'st thou--so we run our race; And happier they whose race is nearly run, Their troubles over, and their duties done." "True, lady, true--we are not girl and boy, But time has left us something to enjoy." "What! hast thou learn'd my fortune?--yes, I live To feel how poor the comforts wealth can give: Thou too perhaps art wealthy; but our fate Still mocks our wishes, wealth is come too late." "To me nor late nor early; I am come Poor as I left thee to my native home: Nor yet," said Rupert, "will I grieve; 'tis mine To share thy comforts, and the glory thine: For thou wilt gladly take that generous part That both exalts and gratifies the heart; While mine rejoices"--"Heavens!" return'd the maid, "This talk to one so wither'd and decay'd? No! all my care is now to fit my mind For other spousal, and to die resigned: As friend and neighbour, I shall hope to see These noble views, this pious love in thee; That we together may the change await, Guides and spectators in each other's fate;