Not in fair dreams, indulged in earlier hours, Of never-tasted joys;--such visions shun, My youthful friend, nor scorn the Farmer's Son." "Nay," said the Damsel, nothing pleased to see A friend's advice could like a Father's be, "Bless'd in your cottage, you must surely smile At those who live in our detested style: To my Lucinda's sympathising heart Could I my prospects and my griefs impart;, She would console me; but I dare not show, Ills that would wound her tender soul to know: And I confess, it shocks my pride to tell The secrets of the prison where I dwell; For that dear maiden would be shock'd to feel The secrets I should shudder to reveal; When told her friend was by a parent ask'd, 'Fed you the swine?'--Good heaven! how I am task'd! - What! can you smile? Ah! smile not at the grief That woos your pity and demands relief." "Trifles, my love: you take a false alarm; Think, I beseech you, better of the Farm: Duties in every state demand your care, And light are those that will require it there. Fix on the Youth a favouring eye, and these, To him pertaining, or as his, will please." "What words," the Lass replied, "offend my ear! Try you my patience? Can you be sincere? And am I told a willing hand to give To a rude farmer, and with rustics live? Far other fate was yours;--some gentle youth Admir'd your beauty, and avow'd his truth; The power of love prevail'd, and freely both Gave the fond heart, and pledged the binding oath; And then the rival's plot, the parent's power, And jealous fears, drew on the happy hour: Ah! let not memory lose the blissful view, But fairly show what love has done for you." "Agreed, my daughter; what my heart has known Of Love's strange power, shall be with frankness shown: But let me warn you, that experience finds Few of the scenes that lively hope designs." "Mysterious all," said Nancy; "you, I know, Have suffered much; now deign the grief to show, - I am your friend, and so prepare my heart In all your sorrows to receive a part." The Widow answer'd: "I had once, like you, Such thoughts of love; no dream is more untrue; You judge it fated, and decreed to dwell In youthful hearts, which nothing can expel, A passion doom'd to reign, and irresistible. The struggling mind, when once subdued, in vain Rejects the fury or defies the pain; The strongest reason fails the flames t'allay, And resolution droops and faints away: Hence, when the destined lovers meet, they prove At once the force of this all-powerful love; Each from that period feels the mutual smart, Nor seeks to cure it--heart is changed for heart; Nor is there peace till they delighted stand, And, at the altar--hand is join'd to hand. "Alas! my child, there are who, dreaming so, Waste their fresh youth, and waking feel the woe. There is no spirit sent the heart to move With such prevailing and alarming love; Passion to reason will submit--or why Should wealthy maids the poorest swains deny? Or how could classes and degrees create