Announc'd a guest, who bore with winning grace
His well-tim'd errand pictur'd in his face.
Around with silent reverence they stood;
A blameless reverence — the man was good.
Wealth he had some, a match for his desires,
First on the list of active Country‘ Squires.
Seeing the youthful pair with downcast eyes,
Unmov'd by Summer-flowers and cloudless skies,
Pass slowly by his Gate; his book resign'd,
He watch'd their steps and follow'd far behind,
Bearing with inward joy, and honest pride,
A trust of WALTER'S kinsman ere he died,
A hard-earn'd mite, deposited with care,
And with a miser's spirit worshipt there.
He found what oft the generous bosom seeks,
In the Dame's court'seys and JANE'S blushing cheeks,
That consciousness of Worth, that freeborn Grace,
Which waits on Virtue in the meanest place.