A secret joy the well-known roof inspir'd,
Small was its store, and little they desir'd;
Jane dried her tears; while Walter forward flew
To aid the Dame; who to the brink updrew
The pond'rous Bucket as they reach'd the well,
And scarcely with exhausted breath could tell
How welcome to her Cot the blooming Pair,
O'er whom she watch'd with a maternal care.

_The Expostulation_.

'What ails thee, Jane?' the wary Matron cried;
With heaving breast the modest Maid reply'd,
Now gently moving back her wooden Chair
To shun the current of the cooling air;
'Not much, good Dame; I'm weary by the way;
'Perhaps, anon, I've something else to say.'
Now, while the Seed-cake crumbled on her knee,
And Snowy Jasmine peeped in to see;
And the transparent Lilac at the door,
Full to the Sun its purple honors bore,
The clam'rous Hen her fearless brood display'd,
And march'd around; while thus the Matron said:
'Jane has been weeping, Walter;--prithee why?
'I've seen her laugh, and dance, but never cry.
'But I can guess; with _her_ you should have been,
'When late I saw you loit'ring on the green;
'I'm an old Woman, and the truth may tell:
I say then, Boy, you have not us'd her well.'