How the foil'd suitor all his hopes gave up,
How Providence with rapture fill'd their cup?
No dark regrets, no tragic scenes to prove,
The gardener was too old to die for love.
A thousand incidents I cast aside
To tell but one--I gave away the bride--
Gave the dear youth what kings could not have given;
Then bless'd them both, and put my trust in Heaven.
There the old neighbours laugh'd the night away,
Who talk of Jennet's wedding to this day.
And could you but have seen the modest grace,
The half-hid smiles that play'd in Jennet's face,
Or mark'd the bridegroom's bounding heart o'erflow,
You might have wept for joy, as I could now:
I speak from memory of days long past;
Though 'tis a father's tale, I've done at last.

* * * * *

Here rest thee, rest thee, Muse, review the scene
Where thou with me from peep of dawn hast been:
We did not promise that this motley throng
Should every _one_ supply a votive song;
Nor every tenant:--yet thou hast been kind,
For untold tales must still remain behind,
Which might o'er listening patience still prevail.
Did fancy waver not, nor daylight fail.
"The Soldier's Wife," her toils, his battles o'er,
"Love in a Shower," the riv'let's sudden roar;
Then, "Lines to Aggravation" form the close,