PERHAPS you've seen, from Nature, drawings made? Some Eve, or Adam, artists then persuade, In birth-attire to stand within their view, While they with care and taste each trait pursue; And, like our shepherdess, their stations take, A perfect semblance ev'ry way to make.
ANNE in her mem'ry now his image placed; Each line and feature thoroughly she traced, And even now the fair would there remain, If William (so was called this youthful swain) Had not the water left; when she retired, Though scarcely twenty steps from him admired, Who, more alert than usual then appeared, And, by the belle, in silence was revered.
WHEN such sensations once were in the breast, Love there we may believe would hardly rest.
THE favours Anne reserved he thought his own, Though expectations oft away have flown. The more of this I think, the less I know; Perhaps one half our bliss to chance we owe!
BE this as 'twill, the conscientious Anne Would nothing venture to regale her man; Howe'er, she stated what had raised her fear, And ev'ry thing that made her persevere.
WHEN Easter came, new difficulties rose Then, in confession, ALL she should disclose. Anne, passing peccadillos in review, This case aside, as an intruder threw; But parson Thomas made her all relate; And ev'ry circumstance most clearly state; That he, by knowing fully each defect, Might punishment accordingly direct, In which no father-confessor should err, Who absolution justly would confer. The parson much his penitent abused; Said he, with sensual views to be amused, Is such a sin, 'tis scarcely worse to steal; The sight is just the same as if you feel.
HOWE'ER, the punishment that he imposed Was nothing great:--too slight to be disclosed; Enough to say, that in the country round, The father-confessors, who there abound, As in our own, (perhaps in ev'ry part,) Have devotees, who, when they ought to smart, A tribute pay, according to their lot, And thus indulgences are often got.
THIS tribute to discharge the current year, Much troubled Anne, and filled her breast with fear, When William, fishing, chanced a pike to hook, And gave it to his dear at once to cook, Who, quite delighted, hastened to the priest, And begged his rev'rence on the fish to feast. The parson with the present much was pleased; A tap upon the shoulder care appeased; And with a smile he to the bringer said This fish, with trifles on the table spread, Will all complete; 'twas holyday we find, When other clergy with our rector dined. Will you still more oblige, the parson cried, And let the fish at home by you be fried? Then bring it here:--my servant's very new, And can't attempt to cook as well as you. Anne hastened back; meanwhile the priests arrived, Much noise, and rout of course, once these were hived; Wines from the vault were brought without delay; Each of the quality would something say.