<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395899" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tale XIII</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">JESSE AND COLIN.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A Vicar died and left his Daughter poor -<br>It hurt her not, she was not rich before:<br>Her humble share of worldly goods she sold,<br>Paid every debt, and then her fortune told;<br>And found, with youth and beauty, hope and health,<br>Two hundred guineas was her worldly wealth;<br>It then remain'd to choose her path in life,<br>And first, said Jesse, 'Shall I be a wife? -<br>Colin is mild and civil, kind and just,<br>I know his love, his temper I can trust;<br>But small his farm, it asks perpetual care,<br>And we must toil as well as trouble share:<br>True, he was taught in all the gentle arts<br>That raise the soul and soften human hearts;<br>And boasts a parent, who deserves to shine<br>In higher class, and I could wish her mine;<br>Nor wants he will his station to improve,<br>A just ambition waked by faithful love;<br>Still is he poor--and here my Father's Friend<br>Deigns for his Daughter, as her own, to send:<br>A worthy lady, who it seems has known<br>A world of griefs and troubles of her own:<br>I was an infant when she came a guest<br>Beneath my father's humble roof to rest;<br>Her kindred all unfeeling, vast her woes,<br>Such her complaint, and there she found repose;<br>Enrich'd by fortune, now she nobly lives,<br>And nobly, from the bless'd abundance, gives;<br>The grief, the want, of human life she knows,<br>And comfort there and here relief bestows:<br>But are they not dependants?--Foolish pride!<br>Am I not honour'd by such friend and guide?<br>Have I a home' (here Jesse dropp'd a tear),<br>'Or friend beside?'--A faithful friend was near.<br>Now Colin came, at length resolved to lay<br>His heart before her, and to urge her stay:<br>True, his own plough the gentle Colin drove,<br>An humble farmer with aspiring love;<br>Who, urged by passion, never dared till now,<br>Thus urged by fears, his trembling hopes avow:<br>Her father's glebe he managed; every year<br>The grateful Vicar held the youth more dear;<br>He saw indeed the prize in Colin's view,<br>And wish'd his Jesse with a man so true:<br>Timid as true, he urged with anxious air<br>His tender hope, and made the trembling prayer,<br>When Jesse saw, nor could with coldness see,<br>Such fond respect, such tried sincerity;<br>Grateful for favours to her father dealt,<br>She more than grateful for his passion felt;<br>Nor could she frown on one so good and kind,<br>Yet fear'd to smile, and was unfix'd in mind;<br>But prudence placed the Female Friend in view -<br>What might not one so rich and grateful do?<br>So lately, too, the good old Vicar died,<br>His faithful daughter must not cast aside<br>The signs of filial grief, and be a ready bride.<br>Thus, led by prudence, to the Lady's seat<br>The Village-Beauty purposed to retreat;<br>But, as in hard-fought fields the victor knows<br>What to the vanquish'd he in honour owes,<br>So, in this conquest over powerful love,<br>Prudence resolved a generous foe to prove,<br>And Jesse felt a mingled fear and pain<br>In her dismission of a faithful swain,<br>Gave her kind thanks, and when she saw his woe,<br>Kindly betray'd that she was loth to go;<br>'But would she promise, if abroad she met<br>A frowning world, she would remember yet<br>Where dwelt a friend?'--'That could she not forget</div><div style="margin:10px 0">.'<br>And thus they parted; but each faithful heart<br>Felt the compulsion, and refused to part.<br>Now, by the morning mail the timid Maid<br>Was to that kind and wealthy Dame conveyed;<br>Whose invitation, when her father died,<br>Jesse as comfort to her heart applied;<br>She knew the days her generous Friend had seen -<br>As wife and widow, evil days had been;<br>She married early, and for half her life<br>Was an insulted and forsaken wife;<br>Widow'd and poor, her angry father gave,<br>Mix'd with reproach, the pittance of a slave;<br>Forgetful brothers pass'd her, but she knew<br>Her humbler friends, and to their home withdrew:<br>The good old Vicar to her sire applied<br>For help, and help'd her when her sire denied.<br>When in few years Death stalk'd through bower and </div><div style="margin:10px 0">hall,<br>Sires, sons, and sons of sons, were buried all,<br>She then abounded, and had wealth to spare<br>For softening grief she once was doom'd to share;<br>Thus train'd in misery's school, and taught to </div><div style="margin:10px 0">feel,<br>She would rejoice an orphan's woes to heal: -<br>So Jesse thought, who look'd within her breast,<br>And thence conceived how bounteous minds are </div><div style="margin:10px 0">bless'd.<br>From her vast mansion look'd the Lady down<br>On humbler buildings of a busy town;<br>Thence came her friends of either sex, and all<br>With whom she lived on terms reciprocal:<br>They pass'd the hours with their accustom'd ease,<br>As guests inclined, but not compelled, to please;<br>But there were others in the mansion found,<br>For office chosen, and by duties bound;<br>Three female rivals, each of power possess'd,<br>Th' attendant Maid, poor Friend, and kindred Guest.<br>To these came Jesse, as a seaman thrown<br>By the rude storm upon a coast unknown:<br>The view was flattering, civil seem'd the race,<br>But all unknown the dangers of the place.<br>Few hours had pass'd, when, from attendants </div><div style="margin:10px 0">freed<br>The Lady utter'd, 'This is kind indeed;<br>Believe me, love! that I for one like you<br>Have daily pray'd, a friend discreet and true;<br>Oh! wonder not that I on you depend,<br>You are mine own hereditary friend:<br>Hearken, my Jesse, never can I trust<br>Beings ungrateful, selfish, and unjust;<br>But you are present, and my load of care<br>Your love will serve to lighten and to share:<br>Come near me, Jesse--let not those below<br>Of my reliance on your friendship know;<br>Look as they look, be in their freedoms free -<br>But all they say do you convey to me.'<br>Here Jesse's thoughts to Colin's cottage flew,<br>And with such speed she scarce their absence knew.<br>'Jane loves her mistress, and should she depart,<br>I lose her service, and she breaks her heart;<br>My ways and wishes, looks and thoughts, she knows,<br>And duteous care by close attention shows:<br>But is she faithful? in temptation strong,<br>Will she not wrong me? ah! I fear the wrong;<br>Your father loved me; now, in time of need,<br>Watch for my good, and to his place succeed.<br>'Blood doesn't bind--that Girl, who every day<br>Eats of my bread, would wish my life away;<br>I am her dear relation, and she thinks<br>To make her fortune, an ambitious minx!<br>She only courts me for the prospect's sake,<br>Because she knows I have a Will to make;<br>Yes, love! my Will delay'd, I know not how -<br>But you are here, and I will make it now.<br>'That idle creature, keep her in your view,<br>See what she does, what she desires to do;<br>On her young mind may artful villains prey,<br>And to my plate and jewels find a way:<br>A pleasant humour has the girl; her smile,<br>And cheerful manner, tedious hours beguile:<br>But well observe her, ever near her be,<br>Close in your thoughts, in your professions free.<br>'Again, my Jesse, hear what I advise,<br>And watch a woman ever in disguise;<br>Issop, that widow, serious, subtle, sly -<br>But what of this?--I must have company:<br>She markets for me, and although she makes<br>Profit, no doubt, of all she undertakes,<br>Yet she is one I can to all produce,<br>And all her talents are in daily use:<br>Deprived of her, I may another find<br>As sly and selfish, with a weaker mind:<br>But never trust her, she is full of art,<br>And worms herself into the closest heart;<br>Seem then, I pray you, careless in her sight,<br>Nor let her know, my love, how we unite.<br>'Do, my good Jesse, cast a view around,<br>And let no wrong within my house be found;<br>That Girl associates with--I know not who<br>Are her companions, nor what ill they do;<br>'Tis then the Widow plans, 'tis then she tries<br>Her various arts and schemes for fresh supplies;<br>'Tis then, if ever, Jane her duty quits,<br>And, whom I know not, favours and admits:<br>Oh! watch their movements all; for me 'tis hard,<br>Indeed is vain, but you may keep a guard;<br>And I, when none your watchful glance deceive,<br>May make my Will, and think what I shall leave.'<br>Jesse, with fear, disgust, alarm, surprise,<br>Heard of these duties for her ears and eyes;<br>Heard by what service she must gain her bread,<br>And went with scorn and sorrow to her bed.<br>Jane was a servant fitted for her place,<br>Experienced, cunning, fraudful, selfish, base;<br>Skill'd in those mean humiliating arts<br>That make their way to proud and selfish hearts:<br>By instinct taught, she felt an awe, a fear,<br>For Jesse's upright, simple character;<br>Whom with gross flattery she awhile assail'd,<br>And then beheld with hatred when it fail'd;<br>Yet, trying still upon her mind for hold,<br>She all the secrets of the mansion told;<br>And, to invite an equal trust, she drew<br>Of every mind a bold and rapid view;<br>But on the widow'd Friend with deep disdain,<br>And rancorous envy, dwelt the treacherous Jane:<br>In vain such arts;--without deceit or pride,<br>With a just taste and feeling for her guide,<br>From all contagion Jesse kept apart,<br>Free in her manners, guarded in her heart.<br>Jesse one morn was thoughtful, and her sigh<br>The Widow heard as she was passing by;<br>And--'Well!' she said, 'is that some distant swain,<br>Or aught with us, that gives your bosom pain?<br>Come, we are fellow-sufferers, slaves in thrall,<br>And tasks and griefs are common to us all;<br>Think not my frankness strange: they love to paint<br>Their state with freedom, who endure restraint;<br>And there is something in that speaking eye<br>And sober mien that prove I may rely:<br>You came a stranger; to my words attend,<br>Accept my offer, and you find a friend;<br>It is a labyrinth in which you stray,<br>Come, hold my clue, and I will lead the way.<br>'Good Heav'n! that one so jealous, envious, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">base,<br>Should be the mistress of so sweet a place;<br>She, who so long herself was low and poor,<br>Now broods suspicious on her useless store;<br>She loves to see us abject, loves to deal<br>Her insult round, and then pretends to feel:<br>Prepare to cast all dignity aside,<br>For know, your talents will be quickly tried;<br>Nor think, from favours past a friend to gain, -<br>'Tis but by duties we our posts maintain:<br>I read her novels, gossip through the town,<br>And daily go, for idle stories down;<br>I cheapen all she buys, and bear the curse<br>Of honest tradesmen for my niggard purse;<br>And, when for her this meanness I display,<br>She cries, 'I heed not what I throw away;'<br>Of secret bargains I endure the shame,<br>And stake my credit for our fish and game;<br>Oft has she smiled to hear 'her generous soul<br>Would gladly give, but stoops to my control:'<br>Nay! I have heard her, when she chanced to come<br>Where I contended for a petty sum,<br>Affirm 'twas painful to behold such care,<br>'But Issop's nature is to pinch and spare:'<br>Thus all the meanness of the house is mine,<br>And my reward--to scorn her, and to dine.<br>'See next that giddy thing, with neither pride<br>To keep her safe, nor principle to guide:<br>Poor, idle, simple flirt! as sure as fate<br>Her maiden-fame will have an early date:<br>Of her beware; for all who live below<br>Have faults they wish not all the world to know,<br>And she is fond of listening, full of doubt,<br>And stoops to guilt to find an error out.<br>'And now once more observe the artful Maid,<br>A lying, prying, jilting, thievish jade;<br>I think, my love, you would not condescend<br>To call a low, illiterate girl your friend:<br>But in our troubles we are apt, you know,<br>To lean on all who some compassion show;<br>And she has flexile features, acting eyes,<br>And seems with every look to sympathise;<br>No mirror can a mortal's grief express<br>With more precision, or can feel it less;<br>That proud, mean spirit, she by fawning courts<br>By vulgar flattery, and by vile reports;<br>And by that proof she every instant gives<br>To one so mean, that yet a meaner lives.<br>'Come, I have drawn the curtain, and you see<br>Your fellow-actors, all our company;<br>Should you incline to throw reserve aside,<br>And in my judgment and my love confide,<br>I could some prospects open to your view,<br>That ask attention--and, till then, adieu.'<br>'Farewell!' said Jesse, hastening to her room,<br>Where all she saw within, without, was gloom:<br>Confused, perplex'd, she pass'd a dreary hour,<br>Before her reason could exert its power;<br>To her all seem'd mysterious, all allied<br>To avarice, meanness, folly, craft, and pride;<br>Wearied with thought, she breathed the garden's </div><div style="margin:10px 0">air,<br>Then came the laughing Lass, and join'd her thore.<br>'My sweetest friend has dwelt with us a week,<br>And does she love us? be sincere and speak;<br>My Aunt you cannot--Lord! how I should hate<br>To be like her, all misery and state;<br>Proud, and yet envious, she disgusted sees<br>All who are happy, and who look at ease.<br>Let friendship bind us, I will quickly show<br>Some favourites near us you'll be bless'd to know;<br>My aunt forbids it--but, can she expect,<br>To soothe her spleen, we shall ourselves neglect?<br>Jane and the Widow were to watch and stay<br>My free-born feet; I watch'd as well as they:<br>Lo! what is this?--this simple key explores<br>The dark recess that holds the Spinster's stores:<br>And, led by her ill star, I chanced to see<br>Where Issop keeps her stock of ratafie;<br>Used in the hours of anger and alarm,<br>It makes her civil, and it keeps her warm:<br>Thus bless'd with secrets both would choose to </div><div style="margin:10px 0">hide,<br>Their fears now grant me what their scorn denied.<br>'My freedom thus by their assent secured,<br>Bad as it is, the place may be endured;<br>And bad it is, but her estates, you know,<br>And her beloved hoards, she must bestow;<br>So we can slily our amusements take,<br>And friends of demons, if they help us, make.'<br>'Strange creatures these,' thought Jesse, half </div><div style="margin:10px 0">inclined<br>To smile at one malicious and yet kind;<br>Frank and yet cunning, with a heart to love<br>And malice prompt--the serpent and the dove;<br>Here could she dwell? or could she yet depart?<br>Could she be artful? could she bear with art? -<br>This splendid mansion gave the cottage grace,<br>She thought a dungeon was a happier place;<br>And Colin pleading, when he pleaded best,<br>Wrought not such sudden change in Jesse's breast.<br>The wondering maiden, who had only read<br>Of such vile beings, saw them now with dread;<br>Safe in themselves--for nature has design'd<br>The creature's poison harmless to the kind;<br>But all beside who in the haunts are found<br>Must dread the poison, and must feel the wound.<br>Days full of care, slow weary weeks pass'd on,<br>Eager to go, still Jesse was not gone;<br>Her time in trifling, or in tears, she spent,<br>She never gave, she never felt, content:<br>The Lady wonder'd that her humble guest<br>Strove not to please, would neither lie nor jest;<br>She sought no news, no scandal would convey,<br>But walk'd for health, and was at church to pray:<br>All this displeased, and soon the Widow cried,<br>'Let me be frank--I am not satisfied;<br>You know my wishes, I your judgment trust;<br>You can be useful, Jesse, and you must:<br>Let me be plainer, child--I want an ear,<br>When I am deaf, instead of mine to hear;<br>When mine is sleeping let your eye awake;<br>When I observe not, observation take:<br>Alas! I rest not on my pillow laid,<br>Then threat'ning whispers make my soul afraid;<br>The tread of strangers to my ear ascends,<br>Fed at my cost, the minions of my friends;<br>While you, without a care, a wish to please,<br>Eat the vile bread of idleness and ease.'<br>Th' indignant Girl, astonish'd, answer'd--'Nay!<br>This instant, madam, let me haste away:<br>Thus speaks my father's, thus an orphan's friend?<br>This instant, lady, let your bounty end.'<br>The Lady frown'd indignant--'What!' she cried,<br>'A vicar's daughter with a princess' pride<br>And pauper's lot! but pitying I forgive;<br>How, simple Jesse, do you think to live?<br>Have I not power to help you, foolish maid?<br>To my concerns be your attention paid;<br>With cheerful mind th' allotted duties take,<br>And recollect I have a Will to make.'<br>Jesse, who felt as liberal natures feel,<br>When thus the baser their designs reveal,<br>Replied--'Those duties were to her unfit,<br>Nor would her spirit to her tasks submit.'<br>In silent scorn the Lady sat awhile,<br>And then replied with stern contemptuous smile -<br>'Think you, fair madam, that you came to share<br>Fortunes like mine without a thought or care?<br>A guest, indeed! from every trouble free,<br>Dress'd by my help, with not a care for me;<br>When I a visit to your father made,<br>I for the poor assistance largely paid;<br>To his domestics I their tasks assign'd,<br>I fix'd the portion for his hungry hind;<br>And had your father (simple man!) obey'd<br>My good advice, and watch'd as well as pray'd,<br>He might have left you something with his prayers,<br>And lent some colour for these lofty airs. -<br>'In tears, my love! Oh, then my soften'd heart<br>Cannot resist--we never more will part;<br>I need your friendship--I will be your friend,<br>And, thus determined, to my Will attend.'<br>Jesse went forth, but with determined soul<br>To fly such love, to break from such control:<br>'I hear enough,' the trembling damsel cried;<br>Flight be my care, and Providence my guide:<br>Ere yet a prisoner, I escape will make;<br>Will, thus display'd, th' insidious arts forsake,<br>And, as the rattle sounds, will fly the fatal </div><div style="margin:10px 0">snake.'<br>Jesse her thanks upon the morrow paid,<br>Prepared to go, determined though afraid.<br>'Ungrateful creature!' said the Lady, 'this<br>Could I imagine?--are you frantic, miss?<br>What! leave your friend, your prospects--is it </div><div style="margin:10px 0">true?'<br>This Jesse answer'd by a mild 'Adieu?'<br>The Dame replied 'Then houseless may you rove,<br>The starving victim to a guilty love;<br>Branded with shame, in sickness doom'd to nurse<br>An ill-form'd cub, your scandal and your curse;<br>Spurn'd by its scoundrel father, and ill fed<br>By surly rustics with the parish-bread! -<br>Relent you not?--speak--yet I can forgive;<br>Still live with me.'--'With you,' said Jesse, '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">live?<br>No! I would first endure what you describe,<br>Rather than breathe with your detested tribe;<br>Who long have feign'd, till now their very hearts<br>Are firmly fix'd in their accursed parts;<br>Who all profess esteem, and feel disdain,<br>And all, with justice, of deceit complain;<br>Whom I could pity, but that, while I stay,<br>My terror drives all kinder thoughts away;<br>Grateful for this, that, when I think of you,<br>I little fear what poverty can do.'<br>The angry matron her attendant Jane<br>Summon'd in haste to soothe the fierce disdain: -<br>'A vile detested wretch!' the Lady cried,<br>'Yet shall she be by many an effort tried,<br>And, clogg'd with debt and fear, against her will </div><div style="margin:10px 0">abide;<br>And, once secured, she never shall depart<br>Till I have proved the firmness of her heart:<br>Then when she dares not, would not, cannot go<br>I'll make her feel what 'tis to use me so.'<br>The pensive Colin in his garden stray'd,<br>But felt not then the beauties it display'd;<br>There many a pleasant object met his view,<br>A rising wood of oaks behind it grew;<br>A stream ran by it, and the village-green<br>And public road were from the garden seen;<br>Save where the pine and larch the bound'ry made,<br>And on the rose-beds threw a softening shade.<br>The Mother sat beside the garden-door,<br>Dress'd as in times ere she and hers were poor;<br>The broad-laced cap was known in ancient days,<br>When madam's dress compell'd the village praise;<br>And still she look'd as in the times of old,<br>Ere his last farm the erring husband sold;<br>While yet the mansion stood in decent state,<br>And paupers waited at the well-known gate.<br>'Alas, my son!' the Mother cried, 'and why<br>That silent grief and oft-repeated sigh?<br>True we are poor, but thou hast never felt<br>Pangs to thy father for his error dealt;<br>Pangs from strong hopes of visionary gain,<br>For ever raised, and ever found in vain.<br>He rose unhappy from his fruitless schemes,<br>As guilty wretches from their blissful dreams;<br>But thou wert then, my son, a playful child,<br>Wondering at grief, gay, innocent, and wild;<br>Listening at times to thy poor mother's sighs<br>With curious looks and innocent surprise;<br>Thy father dying, thou my virtuous boy,<br>My comfort always, waked my soul to joy;<br>With the poor remnant of our fortune left,<br>Thou hast our station of its gloom bereft:<br>Thy lively temper, and thy cheerful air,<br>Have cast a smile on sadness and despair;<br>Thy active hand has dealt to this poor space<br>The bliss of plenty and the charm of grace;<br>And all around us wonder when they find<br>Such taste and strength, such skill and power </div><div style="margin:10px 0">combined;<br>There is no mother, Colin, no not one,<br>But envies me so kind, so good a son;<br>By thee supported on this failing side,<br>Weakness itself awakes a parent's pride:<br>I bless the stroke that was my grief before,<br>And feel such joy that 'tis disease no more;<br>Shielded by thee, my want becomes my wealth,<br>And, soothed by Colin, sickness smiles at health;<br>The old men love thee, they repeat thy praise,<br>And say, like thee were youth in earlier days;<br>While every village-maiden cries, 'How gay,<br>How smart, how brave, how good is Colin Grey!'<br>'Yet art thou sad; alas! my son, I know<br>Thy heart is wounded, and the cure is slow;<br>Fain would I think that Jesse still may come<br>To share the comforts of our rustic home:<br>She surely loved thee; I have seen the maid,<br>When thou hast kindly brought the Vicar aid -<br>When thou hast eased his bosom of its pain,<br>Oh! I have seen her--she will come again.'<br>The Matron ceased; and Colin stood the while<br>Silent, but striving for a grateful smile;<br>He then replied--'Ah! sure, had Jesse stay'd,<br>And shared the comforts of our sylvan shade,<br>The tenderest duty and the fondest love<br>Would not have fail'd that generous heart to move;<br>A grateful pity would have ruled her breast,<br>And my distresses would have made me bless'd.<br>'But she is gone, and ever has in view<br>Grandeur and taste,--and what will then ensue?<br>Surprise and then delight in scenes so fair and </div><div style="margin:10px 0">new;<br>For many a day, perhaps for many a week,<br>Home will have charms, and to her bosom speak;<br>But thoughtless ease, and affluence, and pride,<br>Seen day by day, will draw the heart aside:<br>And she at length, though gentle and sincere,<br>Will think no more of our enjoyments here.'<br>Sighing he spake--but hark! he hears th' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">approach<br>Of rattling wheels! and, lo! the evening coach;<br>Once more the movement of the horses' feet<br>Makes the fond heart with strong emotion beat:<br>Faint were his hopes, but ever had the sight<br>Drawn him to gaze beside his gate at night;<br>And when with rapid wheels it hurried by,<br>He grieved his parent with a hopeless sigh;<br>And could the blessing have been bought--what sum<br>Had he not offer'd to have Jesse come!<br>She came--he saw her bending from the door,<br>Her face, her smile, and he beheld no more;<br>Lost in his joy--the mother lent her aid<br>T'assist and to detain the willing Maid;<br>Who thought her late, her present home to make,<br>Sure of a welcome for the Vicar's sake:<br>But the good parent was so pleased, so kind,<br>So pressing Colin, she so much inclined,<br>That night advanced; and then, so long detain'd,<br>No wishes to depart she felt, or feign'd;<br>Yet long in doubt she stood, and then perforce </div><div style="margin:10px 0">remain'd.<br>Here was a lover fond, a friend sincere;<br>Here was content and joy, for she was here:<br>In the mild evening, in the scene around,<br>The Maid, now free, peculiar beauties found;<br>Blended with village-tones, the evening gale<br>Gave the sweet night-bird's warblings to the vale:<br>The Youth, embolden'd, yet abash'd, now told<br>His fondest wish, nor found the maiden cold;<br>The Mother smiling whisper'd, 'Let him go<br>And seek the licence!' Jesse answer'd 'No:'<br>But Colin went.--I know not if they live<br>With all the comforts wealth and plenty give;<br>But with pure joy to envious souls denied,<br>To suppliant meanness and suspicious pride;<br>And village-maids of happy couples say,<br>'They live like Jesse Bourn and Colin Grey.'</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=395899" data-title="Tale XIII de George Crabbe" data-description="JESSE AND COLIN. 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 hu..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black