Was gentle, generous, cultivated, kind;
For thirty years he labour’d; fortune then
Placed the mild rustic with superior men: 
A richer Stafford who had liv’d to save,
What he had treasured to the poorer gave;
Who with a sober mind that treasure view’d,
And the slight studies of his youth renew’d: 
He not profoundly, but discreetly read,
And a fair mind with useful culture fed;
Then thought of marriage—­“But the great,” said he
“I shall not suit, nor will the meaner me.” 
Anna, he saw, admired her modest air;
He thought her virtuous, and he knew her fair;
Love raised his pity for her humble state,
And prompted wishes for her happier fate;
No pride in money would his feelings wound,
Nor vulgar manners hurt him and confound: 
He then the Lady at the Hall address’d,
Sought her consent, and his regard expressed: 
Yet if some cause his earnest wish denied,
He begg’d to know it, and he bow’d and sigh’d. 
   The Lady own’d that she was loth to part,
But praised the damsel for her gentle heart,
Her pleasing person, and her blooming health,
But ended thus, “Her virtue is her wealth.” 
“Then is she rich!” he cried with lively air;
“But whence, so please you, came a lass so fair?”
   “A placeman’s child was Anna, one who died
And left a widow by afflictions tried;
She to support her infant daughter strove,
But early left the object of her love: 
Her youth, her beauty, and her orphan state
Gave a kind countess interest in her fate: 
With her she dwelt and still might dwelling be,
When the earl’s folly caused the lass to flee;
A second friend was she compell’d to shun,
By the rude offers of an uncheek’d son;
I found her then, and with a mother’s love
Regard the gentle girl whom you approve;
Yet e’en with me protection is not peace,
Nor man’s designs nor beauty’s trials cease: 
Like sordid boys by costly fruit they feel —
They will not purchase, but they try to steal.” 
   Now this good Lady, like a witness true,
Told but the truth, and all the truth she knew;
And ’tis our duty and our pain to show
Truth this good lady had not means to know. 
Yes, there was lock’d within the damsel’s breast
A fact important to be now confess’d;
Gently, my muse, th’ afflicting tale relate,
And have some feeling for a sister’s fate. 
   Where Anna dwelt, a conquering hero came, —
An Irish captain, Sedley was his name;
And he too had that same prevailing art,
That gave soft wishes to the virgin’s heart: 
In years they differ’d; he had thirty seen
When this young beauty counted just fifteen;
But still they were a lovely lively pair,
And trod on earth as if they trod on air. 
   On love, delightful theme! the captain dwelt
With force still growing with the hopes he felt
But with some caution and reluctance told,
He had a father crafty, harsh, and old;