And yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit of too much, as they that starve with nothing; it is no mean happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean. Merchant of Venice. ---------------------------- A Vicar died and left his Daughter poor - It hurt her not, she was not rich before: Her humble share of worldly goods she sold, Paid every debt, and then her fortune told; And found, with youth and beauty, hope and health, Two hundred guineas was her worldly wealth; It then remain'd to choose her path in life, And first, said Jesse, "Shall I be a wife? - Colin is mild and civil, kind and just, I know his love, his temper I can trust; But small his farm, it asks perpetual care, And we must toil as well as trouble share: True, he was taught in all the gentle arts That raise the soul and soften human hearts; And boasts a parent, who deserves to shine In higher class, and I could wish her mine; Nor wants he will his station to improve, A just ambition waked by faithful love; Still is he poor--and here my Father's Friend Deigns for his Daughter, as her own, to send: A worthy lady, who it seems has known A world of griefs and troubles of her own: I was an infant when she came a guest Beneath my father's humble roof to rest; Her kindred all unfeeling, vast her woes, Such her complaint, and there she found repose; Enrich'd by fortune, now she nobly lives, And nobly, from the bless'd abundance, gives; The grief, the want, of human life she knows, And comfort there and here relief bestows: But are they not dependants?--Foolish pride! Am I not honour'd by such friend and guide? Have I a home" (here Jesse dropp'd a tear), "Or friend beside?"--A faithful friend was near. Now Colin came, at length resolved to lay His heart before her, and to urge her stay: True, his own plough the gentle Colin drove, An humble farmer with aspiring love; Who, urged by passion, never dared till now, Thus urged by fears, his trembling hopes avow: Her father's glebe he managed; every year The grateful Vicar held the youth more dear; He saw indeed the prize in Colin's view, And wish'd his Jesse with a man so true: Timid as true, he urged with anxious air His tender hope, and made the trembling prayer, When Jesse saw, nor could with coldness see, Such fond respect, such tried sincerity; Grateful for favours to her father dealt, She more than grateful for his passion felt; Nor could she frown on one so good and kind, Yet fear'd to smile, and was unfix'd in mind; But prudence placed the Female Friend in view - What might not one so rich and grateful do? So lately, too, the good old Vicar died, His faithful daughter must not cast aside The signs of filial grief, and be a ready bride. Thus, led by prudence, to the Lady's seat The Village-Beauty purposed to retreat; But, as in hard-fought fields the victor knows What to the vanquish'd he in honour owes, So, in this conquest over powerful love,