wheels approach,
And took his place within the evening coach,
With heart quite rent asunder:  on one side
Was love, and grief, and fear, for scenes untried;
Wild beasts and wax-work fill’d the happier part
Of Stephen’s varying and divided heart: 
This he betray’d by sighs and questions strange,
Of famous shows, the Tower, and the Exchange. 
   Soon at his desk was placed the curious Boy,
Demure and silent at his new employ;
Yet as he could he much attention paid
To all around him, cautious and afraid;
On older Clerks his eager eyes were fix’d,
But Stephen never in their council mix’d: 
Much their contempt he fear’d, for if like them,
He felt assured he should himself contemn;
“Oh! they were all so eloquent, so free,
No! he was nothing—­nothing could he be: 
They dress so smartly, and so boldly look,
And talk as if they read it from a book;
But I,” said Stephen, “will forbear to speak,
And they will think me prudent and not weak. 
They talk, the instant they have dropp’d the pen,
Of singing-women and of acting-men: 
Of plays and places where at night they walk
Beneath the lamps, and with the ladies talk;
While other ladies for their pleasure sing, —
Oh! ’tis a glorious and a happy thing: 
They would despise me, did they understand
I dare not look upon a scene so grand;
Or see the plays when critics rise and roar,
And hiss and groan, and cry—­Encore! encore! 
There’s one among them looks a little kind;
If more encouraged, I would ope my mind.” 
   Alas! poor Stephen, happier had he kept
His purpose secret, while his envy slept! 
Virtue perhaps had conquer’d, or his shame
At least preserved him simple as he came. 
A year elapsed before this Clerk began
To treat the rustic something like a man;
He then in trifling points the youth advised,
Talk’d of his coat, and had it modernized;
Or with the lad a Sunday-walk would take,
And kindly strive his passions to awake;
Meanwhile explaining all they heard and saw,
Till Stephen stood in wonderment and awe;
To a neat garden near the town they stray’d,
Where the Lad felt delighted and afraid;
There all he saw was smart, and fine, and fair —
He could but marvel how he ventured there: 
Soon he observed, with terror and alarm,
His friend enlocked within a Lady’s arm,
And freely talking—­“But it is,” said he,
“A near relation, and that makes him free;”
And much amazed was Stephen when he knew
This was the first and only interview;
Nay, had that lovely arm by him been seized,
The lovely owner had been highly pleased. 
“Alas!” he sigh’d, “I never can contrive
At such bold, blessed freedoms to arrive;
Never shall I such happy courage boast,
I dare as soon encounter with a ghost.” 
   Now to a play the friendly couple went,
But the Boy murmurd at the money spent;
“He lov’d,” he said, “to buy,