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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395893" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tale VI</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE FRANK COURTSHIP.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grave Jonas Kindred, Sybil Kindred's sire,<br>Was six feet high, and look'd six inches higher;<br>Erect, morose, determined, solemn, slow,<br>Who knew the man could never cease to know:<br>His faithful spouse, when Jonas was not by,<br>Had a firm presence and a steady eye;<br>But with her husband dropp'd her look and tone,<br>And Jonas ruled unquestion'd and alone.<br>He read, and oft would quote the sacred words,<br>How pious husbands of their wives were lords;<br>Sarah called Abraham Lord! and who could be,<br>So Jonas thought, a greater man than he?<br>Himself he view'd with undisguised respect,<br>And never pardon'd freedom or neglect.<br>They had one daughter, and this favourite child<br>Had oft the father of his spleen beguiled;<br>Soothed by attention from her early years,<br>She gained all wishes by her smiles or tears;<br>But Sybil then was in that playful time,<br>When contradiction is not held a crime;<br>When parents yield their children idle praise<br>For faults corrected in their after days.<br>Peace in the sober house of Jonas dwelt,<br>Where each his duty and his station felt:<br>Yet not that peace some favour'd mortals find,<br>In equal views and harmony of mind;<br>Not the soft peace that blesses those who love,<br>Where all with one consent in union move;<br>But it was that which one superior will<br>Commands, by making all inferiors still;<br>Who bids all murmurs, all objections, cease,<br>And with imperious voice announces--Peace!<br>They were, to wit, a remnant of that crew,<br>Who, as their foes maintain, their Sovereign slew;<br>An independent race, precise, correct,<br>Who ever married in the kindred sect:<br>No son or daughter of their order wed<br>A friend to England's king who lost his head;<br>Cromwell was still their Saint, and when they met,<br>They mourn'd that Saints were not our rulers yet.<br>Fix'd were their habits; they arose betimes,<br>Then pray'd their hour, and sang their party-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">rhymes:<br>Their meals were plenteous, regular and plain;<br>The trade of Jonas brought him constant gain;<br>Vender of hops and malt, of coals and corn -<br>And, like his father, he was merchant born:<br>Neat was their house; each table, chair, and stool,<br>Stood in its place, or moving moved by rule;<br>No lively print or picture graced the room;<br>A plain brown paper lent its decent gloom;<br>But here the eye, in glancing round, survey'd<br>A small recess that seem'd for china made;<br>Such pleasing pictures seem'd this pencill'd ware,<br>That few would search for nobler objects there -<br>Yet, turn'd by chosen friends, and there appear'd<br>His stern, strong features, whom they all revered;<br>For there in lofty air was seen to stand<br>The bold Protector of the conquer'd land;<br>Drawn in that look with which he wept and swore,<br>Turn'd out the Members, and made fast the door,<br>Ridding the House of every knave and drone,<br>Forced, though it grieved his soul, to rule alone.<br>The stern still smile each friend approving gave,<br>Then turn'd the view, and all again were grave.<br>There stood a clock, though small the owner's </div><div style="margin:10px 0">need,<br>For habit told when all things should proceed;<br>Few their amusements, but when friends appear'd,<br>They with the world's distress their spirits </div><div style="margin:10px 0">cheer'd;<br>The nation's guilt, that would not long endure<br>The reign of men so modest and so pure:<br>Their town was large, and seldom pass'd a day<br>But some had fail'd, and others gone astray;<br>Clerks had absconded, wives eloped, girls flown<br>To Gretna-Green, or sons rebellious grown;<br>Quarrels and fires arose;--and it was plain<br>The times were bad; the Saints had ceased to reign!<br>A few yet lived, to languish and to mourn<br>For good old manners never to return.<br>Jonas had sisters, and of these was one<br>Who lost a husband and an only son:<br>Twelve months her sables she in sorrow wore,<br>And mourn'd so long that she could mourn no more.<br>Distant from Jonas, and from all her race,<br>She now resided in a lively place;<br>There, by the sect unseen, at whist she play'd,<br>Nor was of churchman or their church afraid:<br>If much of this the graver brother heard,<br>He something censured, but he little fear'd;<br>He knew her rich and frugal; for the rest,<br>He felt no care, or, if he felt, suppress'd:<br>Nor for companion when she ask'd her Niece,<br>Had he suspicions that disturb'd his peace;<br>Frugal and rich, these virtues as a charm<br>Preserved the thoughtful man from all alarm;<br>An infant yet, she soon would home return,<br>Nor stay the manners of the world to learn;<br>Meantime his boys would all his care engross,<br>And be his comforts if he felt the loss.<br>The sprightly Sybil, pleased and unconfined,<br>Felt the pure pleasure of the op'ning mind:<br>All here was gay and cheerful--all at home<br>Unvaried quiet and unruffled gloom:<br>There were no changes, and amusements few; -<br>Here all was varied, wonderful, and new;<br>There were plain meals, plain dresses, and grave </div><div style="margin:10px 0">looks -<br>Here, gay companions and amusing books;<br>And the young Beauty soon began to taste<br>The light vocations of the scene she graced.<br>A man of business feels it as a crime<br>On calls domestic to consume his time;<br>Yet this grave man had not so cold a heart,<br>But with his daughter he was grieved to part:<br>And he demanded that in every year<br>The Aunt and Niece should at his house appear.<br>'Yes! we must go, my child, and by our dress<br>A grave conformity of mind express;<br>Must sing at meeting, and from cards refrain,<br>The more t'enjoy when we return again.'<br>Thus spake the Aunt, and the discerning child<br>Was pleased to learn how fathers are beguiled.<br>Her artful part the young dissembler took,<br>And from the matron caught th' approving look:<br>When thrice the friends had met, excuse was sent<br>For more delay, and Jonas was content;<br>Till a tall maiden by her sire was seen,<br>In all the bloom and beauty of sixteen;<br>He gazed admiring;--she, with visage prim,<br>Glanced an arch look of gravity on him;<br>For she was gay at heart, but wore disguise,<br>And stood a vestal in her father's eyes:<br>Pure, pensive, simple, sad; the damsel's heart,<br>When Jonas praised, reproved her for the part.<br>For Sybil, fond of pleasure, gay and light,<br>Had still a secret bias to the right;<br>Vain as she was--and flattery made her vain -<br>Her simulation gave her bosom pain.<br>Again return'd, the Matron and the Niece<br>Found the late quiet gave their joy increase;<br>The aunt infirm, no more her visits paid,<br>But still with her sojourn'd the favourite maid.<br>Letters were sent when franks could be procured,<br>And when they could not, silence was endured;<br>All were in health, and if they older grew,<br>It seem'd a fact that none among them knew;<br>The aunt and niece still led a pleasant life,<br>And quiet days had Jonas and his wife.<br>Near him a Widow dwelt of worthy fame,<br>Like his her manners, and her creed the same;<br>The wealth her husband left, her care retain'd<br>For one tall Youth, and widow she remain'd;<br>His love respectful all her care repaid,<br>Her wishes watch'd, and her commands obey'd.<br>Sober he was and grave from early youth,<br>Mindful of forms, but more intent on truth:<br>In a light drab he uniformly dress'd,<br>And look serene th' unruffled mind express'd;<br>A hat with ample verge his brows o'erspread,<br>And his brown locks curl'd graceful on his head;<br>Yet might observers in his speaking eye<br>Some observation, some acuteness spy;<br>The friendly thought it keen, the treacherous </div><div style="margin:10px 0">deem'd it sly.<br>Yet not a crime could foe or friend detect,<br>His actions all were, like his speech, correct;<br>And they who jested on a mind so sound,<br>Upon his virtues must their laughter found;<br>Chaste, sober, solemn, and devout they named<br>Him who was thus, and not of this ashamed.<br>Such were the virtues Jonas found in one<br>In whom he warmly wish'd to find a son:<br>Three years had pass'd since he had Sybil seen;<br>But she was doubtless what she once had been,<br>Lovely and mild, obedient and discreet;<br>The pair must love whenever they should meet;<br>Then ere the widow or her son should choose<br>Some happier maid, he would explain his views:<br>Now she, like him, was politic and shrewd,<br>With strong desire of lawful gain embued;<br>To all he said, she bow'd with much respect,<br>Pleased to comply, yet seeming to reject;<br>Cool and yet eager, each admired the strength<br>Of the opponent, and agreed at length:<br>As a drawn battle shows to each a force,<br>Powerful as his, he honours it of course;<br>So in these neighbours, each the power discern'd,<br>And gave the praise that was to each return'd.<br>Jonas now ask'd his daughter--and the Aunt,<br>Though loth to lose her, was obliged to grant: -<br>But would not Sybil to the matron cling,<br>And fear to leave the shelter of her wing?<br>No! in the young there lives a love of change,<br>And to the easy they prefer the strange!<br>Then, too, the joys she once pursued with zeal,<br>From whist and visits sprung, she ceased to feel:<br>When with the matrons Sybil first sat down,<br>To cut for partners and to stake her crown,<br>This to the youthful maid preferment seem'd,<br>Who thought what woman she was then esteem'd;<br>But in few years, when she perceived, indeed,<br>The real woman to the girl succeed,<br>No longer tricks and honours fill'd her mind,<br>But other feelings, not so well defined;<br>She then reluctant grew, and thought it hard<br>To sit and ponder o'er an ugly card;<br>Rather the nut-tree shade the nymph preferr'd,<br>Pleased with the pensive gloom and evening bird;<br>Thither, from company retired, she took<br>The silent walk, or read the fav'rite book.<br>The father's letter, sudden, short, and kind,<br>Awaked her wonder, and disturb'd her mind;<br>She found new dreams upon her fancy seize,<br>Wild roving thoughts and endless reveries.<br>The parting came;--and when the Aunt perceived<br>The tears of Sybil, and how much she grieved -<br>To love for her that tender grief she laid,<br>That various, soft, contending passions made.<br>When Sybil rested in her father's arms,<br>His pride exulted in a daughter's charms;<br>A maid accomplish'd he was pleased to find,<br>Nor seem'd the form more lovely than the mind:<br>But when the fit of pride and fondness fled,<br>He saw his judgment by his hopes misled;<br>High were the lady's spirits, far more free<br>Her mode of speaking than a maid's should be;<br>Too much, as Jonas thought, she seem'd to know,<br>And all her knowledge was disposed to show;<br>'Too gay her dress, like theirs who idly dote<br>On a young coxcomb or a coxcomb's coat;<br>In foolish spirits when our friends appear,<br>And vainly grave when not a man is near.'<br>Thus Jonas, adding to his sorrow blame,<br>And terms disdainful to a Sister's name:<br>'The sinful wretch has by her arts denied<br>The ductile spirit of my darling child.'<br>'The maid is virtuous,' said the dame--Quoth he,<br>'Let her give proof, by acting virtuously:<br>Is it in gaping when the Elders pray?<br>In reading nonsense half a summer's day?<br>In those mock forms that she delights to trace,<br>Or her loud laughs in Hezekiah's face?<br>She--O Susannah!--to the world belongs;<br>She loves the follies of its idle throngs,<br>And reads soft tales of love, and sings love's </div><div style="margin:10px 0">soft'ning songs.<br>But, as our friend is yet delay'd in town,<br>We must prepare her till the Youth comes down:<br>You shall advise the maiden; I will threat;<br>Her fears and hopes may yield us comfort yet.'<br>Now the grave father took the lass aside,<br>Demanding sternly, 'Wilt thou be a bride?'<br>She answer'd, calling up an air sedate,<br>'I have not vow'd against the holy state.'<br>'No folly, Sybil,' said the parent; 'know<br>What to their parents virtuous maidens owe:<br>A worthy, wealthy youth, whom I approve,<br>Must thou prepare to honour and to love.<br>Formal to thee his air and dress may seem,<br>But the good youth is worthy of esteem:<br>Shouldst thou with rudeness treat him; of disdain<br>Should he with justice or of slight complain,<br>Or of one taunting speech give certain proof,<br>Girl! I reject thee from my sober roof.'<br>'My aunt,' said Sybil,' will with pride protect<br>One whom a father can for this reject;<br>Nor shall a formal, rigid, soul-less boy<br>My manners alter, or my views destroy!'<br>Jonas then lifted up his hands on high,<br>And, utt'ring something 'twixt a groan and sigh,<br>Left the determined maid, her doubtful mother by.<br>'Hear me,' she said; 'incline thy heart, my </div><div style="margin:10px 0">child,<br>And fix thy fancy on a man so mild:<br>Thy father, Sybil, never could be moved<br>By one who loved him, or by one he loved.<br>Union like ours is but a bargain made<br>By slave and tyrant--he will be obey'd;<br>Then calls the quiet, comfort--but thy Youth<br>Is mild by nature, and as frank as truth.'<br>'But will he love?' said Sybil; 'I am told<br>That these mild creatures are by nature cold.'<br>'Alas!' the matron answer'd, 'much I dread<br>That dangerous love by which the young are led!<br>That love is earthy; you the creature prize,<br>And trust your feelings and believe your eyes:<br>Can eyes and feelings inward worth descry?<br>No! my fair daughter, on our choice rely!<br>Your love, like that display'd upon the stage,<br>Indulged is folly, and opposed is rage; -<br>More prudent love our sober couples show,<br>All that to mortal beings, mortals owe;<br>All flesh is grass--before you give a heart,<br>Remember, Sybil, that in death you part;<br>And should your husband die before your love,<br>What needless anguish must a widow prove!<br>No! my fair child, let all such visions cease;<br>Yield but esteem, and only try for peace.'<br>'I must be loved,' said Sybil; 'I must see<br>The man in terrors who aspires to me;<br>At my forbidding frown his heart must ache,<br>His tongue must falter, and his frame must shake:<br>And if I grant him at my feet to kneel,<br>What trembling, fearful pleasure must he feel;<br>Nay, such the raptures that my smiles inspire,<br>That reason's self must for a time retire.'<br>'Alas! for good Josiah,' said the dame,<br>'These wicked thoughts would fill his soul with </div><div style="margin:10px 0">shame;<br>He kneel and tremble at a thing of dust!<br>He cannot, child:'--the Child replied, 'He must.'<br>They ceased: the matron left her with a frown;<br>So Jonas met her when the Youth came down:<br>'Behold,' said he, 'thy future spouse attends;<br>Receive him, daughter, as the best of friends;<br>Observe, respect him--humble be each word,<br>That welcomes home thy husband and thy lord.'<br>Forewarn'd, thought Sybil, with a bitter smile,<br>I shall prepare my manner and my style.<br>Ere yet Josiah enter'd on his task,<br>The father met him--'Deign to wear a mask<br>A few dull days, Josiah--but a few -<br>It is our duty, and the sex's due;<br>I wore it once, and every grateful wife<br>Repays it with obedience through her life:<br>Have no regard to Sybil's dress, have none<br>To her pert language, to her flippant tone:<br>Henceforward thou shalt rule unquestion'd and </div><div style="margin:10px 0">alone;<br>And she thy pleasure in thy looks shall seek -<br>How she shall dress, and whether she may speak.'<br>A sober smile returned the Youth, and said,<br>'Can I cause fear, who am myself afraid?'<br>Sybil, meantime, sat thoughtful in her room,<br>And often wonder'd--'Will the creature come?<br>Nothing shall tempt, shall force me to bestow<br>My hand upon him,--yet I wish to know.'<br>The door unclosed, and she beheld her sire<br>Lead in the Youth, then hasten to retire;<br>'Daughter, my friend--my daughter, friend,' he </div><div style="margin:10px 0">cried,<br>And gave a meaning look, and stepp'd aside:<br>That look contained a mingled threat and prayer,<br>'Do take him, child,--offend him if you dare.'<br>The couple gazed--were silent, and the maid<br>Look'd in his face, to make the man afraid;<br>The man, unmoved, upon the maiden cast<br>A steady view--so salutation pass'd:<br>But in this instant Sybil's eye had seen<br>The tall fair person, and the still staid mien;<br>The glow that temp'rance o'er the cheek had spread,<br>Where the soft down half veil'd the purest red;<br>And the serene deportment that proclaim'd<br>A heart unspotted, and a life unblamed:<br>But then with these she saw attire too plain,<br>The pale brown coat, though worn without a stain;<br>The formal air, and something of the pride<br>That indicates the wealth it seems to hide;<br>And looks that were not, she conceived, exempt<br>From a proud pity, or a sly contempt.<br>Josiah's eyes had their employment too,<br>Engaged and soften'd by so bright a view;<br>A fair and meaning face, an eye of fire,<br>That check'd the bold, and made the free retire:<br>But then with these he marked the studied dress<br>And lofty air, that scorn or pride express;<br>With that insidious look, that seem'd to hide<br>In an affected smile the scorn and pride;<br>And if his mind the virgin's meaning caught,<br>He saw a foe with treacherous purpose fraught -<br>Captive the heart to take, and to reject it, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">caught.<br>Silent they sat--thought Sybil, that he seeks<br>Something, no doubt; I wonder if he speaks:<br>Scarcely she wonder'd, when these accents fell<br>Slow in her ear--'Fair maiden, art thou well?'<br>'Art thou physician?' she replied; 'my hand,<br>My pulse, at least, shall be at thy command.'<br>She said--and saw, surprised, Josiah kneel,<br>And gave his lips the offer'd pulse to feel;<br>The rosy colour rising in her cheek,<br>Seem'd that surprise unmix'd with wrath to speak;<br>Then sternness she assumed, and--'Doctor, tell;<br>Thy words cannot alarm me--am I well?'<br>'Thou art,' said he; 'and yet thy dress so </div><div style="margin:10px 0">light,<br>I do conceive, some danger must excite:'<br>'In whom?' said Sybil, with a look demure:<br>'In more,' said he, 'than I expect to cure; -<br>I, in thy light luxuriant robe behold<br>Want and excess, abounding and yet cold;<br>Here needed, there display'd, in many a wanton </div><div style="margin:10px 0">fold;<br>Both health and beauty, learned authors show,<br>From a just medium in our clothing flow.'<br>'Proceed, good doctor; if so great my need,<br>What is thy fee? Good doctor! pray proceed.'<br>'Large is my fee, fair lady, but I take<br>None till some progress in my cure I make:<br>Thou hast disease, fair maiden; thou art vain;<br>Within that face sit insult and disdain;<br>Thou art enamour'd of thyself; my art<br>Can see the naughty malice of thy heart:<br>With a strong pleasure would thy bosom move,<br>Were I to own thy power, and ask thy love;<br>And such thy beauty, damsel, that I might,<br>But for thy pride, feel danger in thy sight,<br>And lose my present peace in dreams of vain </div><div style="margin:10px 0">delight.'<br>'And can thy patients,' said the nymph 'endure<br>Physic like this? and will it work a cure?'<br>'Such is my hope, fair damsel; thou, I find,<br>Hast the true tokens of a noble mind;<br>But the world wins thee, Sybil, and thy joys<br>Are placed in trifles, fashions, follies, toys;<br>Thou hast sought pleasure in the world around,<br>That in thine own pure bosom should be found;<br>Did all that world admire thee, praise and love,<br>Could it the least of nature's pains remove?<br>Could it for errors, follies, sins atone,<br>Or give the comfort, thoughtful and alone?<br>It has, believe me, maid, no power to charm<br>Thy soul from sorrow, or thy flesh from harm:<br>Turn then, fair creature, from a world of sin,<br>And seek the jewel happiness within.'<br>'Speak'st thou at meeting?' said the nymph; 'thy </div><div style="margin:10px 0">speech<br>Is that of mortal very prone to teach;<br>But wouldst thou, doctor, from the patient learn<br>Thine own disease?--the cure is thy concern.'<br>'Yea, with good will.'--'Then know 'tis thy </div><div style="margin:10px 0">complaint,<br>That, for a sinner, thou'rt too much a saint;<br>Hast too much show of the sedate and pure,<br>And without cause art formal and demure:<br>This makes a man unsocial, unpolite;<br>Odious when wrong, and insolent if right.<br>Thou mayst be good, but why should goodness be<br>Wrapt in a garb of such formality?<br>Thy person well might please a damsel's eye,<br>In decent habit with a scarlet dye;<br>But, jest apart--what virtue canst thou trace<br>In that broad brim that hides thy sober face?<br>Does that long-skirted drab, that over-nice<br>And formal clothing, prove a scorn of vice?<br>Then for thine accent--what in sound can be<br>So void of grace as dull monotony?<br>Love has a thousand varied notes to move<br>The human heart: --thou mayest not speak of love<br>Till thou hast cast thy formal ways aside,<br>And those becoming youth and nature tried:<br>Not till exterior freedom, spirit, ease,<br>Prove it thy study and delight to please;<br>Not till these follies meet thy just disdain,<br>While yet thy virtues and thy worth remain.'<br>'This is severe!--Oh! maiden wilt not thou<br>Something for habits, manners, modes, allow?' -<br>'Yes! but allowing much, I much require,<br>In my behalf, for manners, modes, attire!'<br>'True, lovely Sybil; and, this point agreed,<br>Let me to those of greater weight proceed:<br>Thy father!'--'Nay,' she quickly interposed,<br>'Good doctor, here our conference is closed!'<br>Then left the Youth, who, lost in his retreat,<br>Pass'd the good matron on her garden-seat;<br>His looks were troubled, and his air, once mild<br>And calm, was hurried: --'My audacious child!'<br>Exclaim'd the dame, 'I read what she has done<br>In thy displeasure--Ah! the thoughtless one:<br>But yet, Josiah, to my stern good man<br>Speak of the maid as mildly as you can:<br>Can you not seem to woo a little while<br>The daughter's will, the father to beguile?<br>So that his wrath in time may wear away;<br>Will you preserve our peace, Josiah? say.'<br>'Yes! my good neighbour,' said the gentle youth,<br>'Rely securely on my care and truth;<br>And should thy comfort with my efforts cease,<br>And only then,--perpetual is thy peace.'<br>The dame had doubts: she well his virtues knew,<br>His deeds were friendly, and his words were true:<br>'But to address this vixen is a task<br>He is ashamed to take, and I to ask.'<br>Soon as the father from Josiah learn'd<br>What pass'd with Sybil, he the truth discern'd.<br>'He loves,' the man exclaim'd, 'he loves, 'tis </div><div style="margin:10px 0">plain,<br>The thoughtless girl, and shall he love in vain?<br>She may be stubborn, but she shall be tried,<br>Born as she is of wilfulness and pride.'<br>With anger fraught, but willing to persuade,<br>The wrathful father met the smiling maid:<br>'Sybil,' said he, 'I long, and yet I dread<br>To know thy conduct--hath Josiah fled?<br>And, grieved and fretted by thy scornful air,<br>For his lost peace, betaken him to prayer?<br>Couldst thou his pure and modest mind distress<br>By vile remarks upon his speech, address,<br>Attire, and voice?'--'All this I must confess.'<br>'Unhappy child! what labour will it cost<br>To win him back!'--'I do not think him lost.'<br>'Courts he then (trifler!) insult and disdain?' -<br>'No; but from these he courts me to refrain.'<br>'Then hear me, Sybil: should Josiah leave<br>Thy father's house?'--'My father's child would </div><div style="margin:10px 0">grieve.'<br>'That is of grace, and if he come again<br>To speak of love?'--'I might from grief refrain.'<br>'Then wilt thou, daughter, our design embrace?' -<br>'Can I resist it, if it be of Grace?'<br>'Dear child in three plain words thy mind express:<br>Wilt thou have this good youth?'--'Dear Father! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">yes.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Crabbe">George Crabbe</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395893" data-title="Tale VI de George Crabbe" data-description="THE FRANK COURTSHIP.

Grave Jonas Kindred, Sybil Kindred's sire,
Was six feet high, and look'd six inches higher;
Erect, morose, determined, solemn, slow,
Who knew the man could never cease to know:
His faithful spouse, when Jonas was not by,
Had ..."></div>
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