Love of Prudence.

‘ Nature's first wants hard labour should supply;

‘ But should it fail,‘ twill be too late to fly.

‘ Some Summers hence, if nought our loves annoy,

‘ The image of my Jane may lisp her joy;

‘ Or, blooming boys with imitative swing

‘ May mock my arm, and make the Anvil ring;

‘ Then if in rags.— But, O my heart, forbear,—

‘ I love the Girl, and why should I despair?

‘ And that I love her all the village knows;

‘ Oft from my pain the mirth of others flows;

‘ As when a neighbour's Steed with glancing eye

‘ Saw his par'd hoof supported on my thigh:

‘ Jane pass'd that instant; mischief came of course;

‘ I drove the nail awry and lam'd the Horse;

‘ The poor beast limp'd: I bore a Master's frown,

‘ A thousand times I wish'd the wound my own.

‘ When to these tangling thoughts I've been resign'd,

‘ Fury or languor has possess'd my mind,