"I'll buy him, for the dogs shall never Set tooth upon a friend so true; He'll not live long, but I for ever Shall know I gave the beast his due. "'Mongst all I've known of plows and carts, And ever since I learn'd to drive, He was not match'd in all these parts; There was not such a horse alive! "Ready, as birds to meet the morn, Were all his efforts at the plough; Then, the mill-brook with hay or corn, Good creature! how he'd spatter through! Character continued. "He was a horse of mighty pow'r, Compact in frame, and strong of limb; Went with a chirp from hour to hour; Whip-cord! 'twas never made for him. "I left him in the shafts behind, His fellows all unhook'd and gone, He neigh'd, and deem'd the thing unkind. Then, starting, drew the load alone! "But I might talk till pitch-dark night, And then have something left to say; But, Mary, am I wrong or right, Or, do I throw my words away? Something like Consent. "Leave me, or take me and my horse; I've told thee truth, and all I know: Truth _should_ breed truth; that comes of course; If I sow wheat, why wheat will grow." "Yes, Abner, but thus soon to yield, Neighbours would fleer, and look behind 'em; Though, with a husband in the field, Perhaps, indeed, I should not mind 'em. "I've known your generous nature well, My first denial cost me dear; How this may end we cannot tell, But, as for Bayard, bring him here." Parting of the Lovers.--Sad News. "Bless thee for that," the plowman cried, At once both starting from the seat, He stood a guardian by her side, But talk'd of home,--'twas growing late. Then step for step within his arm, She cheer'd him down the dewy way; And no two birds upon the farm E'er prated with more joy than they. What news at home? The smile he wore One little sentence turn'd to sorrow; An order met him at the door. "Take Bayard to the dogs to-morrow." The Journey renewed. Yes, yes, thought he; and heav'd a sigh, Die when he will he's not your debtor: I must obey, and he must die,-- That's if I can't contrive it better. He left his Mary late at night, And had succeeded in the main, No sooner peep'd the morning light But he was on the road again! Suppose she should refuse her hand? Such thoughts will come, I know not why; Shall I, without a wife or land, Want an old horse? then wherefore buy? Perplexity From bush to bush, from stile to stile, Perplex'd he trod the fallow ground, And told his money all the while And weigh'd the matter round and round. "I'll borrow," that's the best thought yet; Mary shall save the horse's life.-- Kind-hearted wench! what, run in debt Before I know she'll be my wife? These women wo'nt speak plain and free.-- Well, well, I'll keep my service still; She has not _said_ she'd marry me, But yet I dare to say she will. A fresh Thought--Turns back.