In every sport, in every fray defend. 
As prospects open’d, and as life advanced,
They walk’d together, they together danced;
On all occasions, from their early years,
They mix’d their joys and sorrows, hopes and fears;
Each heart was anxious, till it could impart
Its daily feelings to its kindred heart;
As years increased, unnumber’d petty wars
Broke out between them; jealousies and jars;
Causeless indeed, and follow’d by a peace,
That gave to love—­growth, vigour, and increase. 
Whilst yet a boy, when other minds are void,
Domestic thoughts young Alien’s hours employ’d. 
Judith in gaining hearts had no concern,
Rather intent the matron’s part to learn;
Thus early prudent and sedate they grew,
While lovers, thoughtful—­and though children, true. 
To either parents not a day appeard,
When with this love they might have interfered. 
Childish at first, they cared not to restrain;
And strong at last, they saw restriction vain;
Nor knew they when that passion to reprove,
Now idle fondness, now resistless love. 
   So while the waters rise, the children tread
On the broad estuary’s sandy bed;
But soon the channel fills, from side to side
Comes danger rolling with the deep’ning tide;
Yet none who saw the rapid current flow
Could the first instant of that danger know. 
   The lovers waited till the time should come
When they together could possess a home: 
In either house were men and maids unwed,
Hopes to be soothed, and tempers to be led. 
Then Allen’s mother of his favourite maid
Spoke from the feelings of a mind afraid: 
“Dress and amusements were her sole employ,”
She said—­“entangling her deluded boy;”
And yet, in truth, a mother’s jealous love
Had much imagined and could little prove;
Judith had beauty—­and if vain, was kind,
Discreet and mild, and had a serious mind. 
   Dull was their prospect.—­When the lovers met,
They said, “We must not—­dare not venture yet.” 
“Oh! could I labour for thee,” Allen cried,
“Why should our friends be thus dissatisfied;
On my own arm I could depend, but they
Still urge obedience—­must I yet obey?”
Poor Judith felt the grief, but grieving begg’d delay. 
   At length a prospect came that seem’d to smile,
And faintly woo them, from a Western Isle;
A kinsman there a widow’s hand had gain’d,
“Was old, was rich, and childless yet remain’d;
Would some young Booth to his affairs attend,
And wait awhile, he might expect a friend.” 
The elder brothers, who were not in love,
Fear’d the false seas, unwilling to remove;
But the young Allen, an enamour’d boy,
Eager an independence to enjoy,
Would through all perils seek it,—­by the sea, —
Through labour, danger, pain, or slavery. 
The faithful Judith his design approved,
For both were sanguine, they were young, and loved. 
The mother’s slow consent was then obtain’d;