There was a worthy, but a simple Pair, Who nursed a Daughter, fairest of the fair: Sons they had lost, and she alone remain'd, Heir to the kindness they had all obtain'd, Heir to the fortune they design'd for all, Nor had th' allotted portion then been small; And now, by fate enrich'd with beauty rare, They watch'd their treasure with peculiar care: The fairest features they could early trace, And, blind with love saw merit in her face - Saw virtue, wisdom, dignity, and grace; And Dorothea, from her infant years, Gain'd all her wishes from their pride or fears; She wrote a billet, and a novel read, And with her fame her vanity was fed; Each word, each look, each action was a cause For flattering wonder and for fond applause; She rode or danced, and ever glanced around, Seeking for praise, and smiling when she found, The yielding pair to her petitions gave An humble friend to be a civil slave, Who for a poor support herself resign'd To the base toil of a dependant mind: By nature cold, our Heiress stoop'd to art, To gain the credit of a tender heart. Hence at her door must suppliant paupers stand, To bless the bounty of her beauteous hand: And now, her education all complete, She talk'd of virtuous love and union sweet; She was indeed by no soft passion moved, But wished with all her soul to be beloved. Here, on the favour'd beauty Fortune smiled; Her chosen Husband was a man so mild, So humbly temper'd, so intent to please, It quite distress'd her to remain at ease, Without a cause to sigh, without pretence to tease: She tried his patience on a thousand modes, And tried it not upon the roughest roads. Pleasure she sought, and disappointed, sigh'd For joys, she said, "to her alone denied;" And she was sure "her parents if alive Would many comforts for their child contrive:" The gentle Husband bade her name him one; "No--that," she answered, "should for her be done; How could she say what pleasures were around? But she was certain many might be found." "Would she some seaport, Weymouth, Scarborough, grace?" - "He knew she hated every watering-place." "The town?"--"What! now 'twas empty, joyless, dull?" "In winter?"--"No; she liked it worse when full." She talk'd of building--"Would she plan a room?" - "No! she could live, as he desired, in gloom." "Call then our friends and neighbours."--"He might call, And they might come and fill his ugly hall; A noisy vulgar set, he knew she scorn'd them all." "Then might their two dear girls the time employ, And their Improvement yield a solid joy." - "Solid indeed! and heavy--oh! the bliss Of teaching letters to a lisping miss!" "My dear, my gentle Dorothea, say, Can I oblige you?"--"You may go away." Twelve heavy years this patient soul sustain'd This wasp's attacks, and then her praise obtain'd, Graved on a marble tomb, where he at peace remain'd. Two daughters wept their loss; the one a child With a plain face, strong sense, and temper mild, Who keenly felt the Mother's angry taunt,