Stephen with grief and anger heard his doom —
“Go to the farmer? to the rustic’s home? 
Curse the base threat’ning—­” “Nay, child, never curse;
Corrupted long, your case is growing worse.” 
“I!” quoth the youth; “I challenge all mankind
To find a fault; what fault have you to find? 
Improve I not in manner, speech, and grace? 
Inquire—­my friends will tell it to your face;
Have I been taught to guard his kine and sheep? 
A man like me has other things to keep;
This let him know.”—­“It would his wrath excite: 
But come, prepare, you must away to-night.” 
“What! leave my studies, my improvements leave,
My faithful friends and intimates to grieve?”
“Go to your father, Stephen, let him see
All these improvements; they are lost on me.” 
   The Youth, though loth, obey’d, and soon he saw
The Farmer-father, with some signs of awe;
Who, kind, yet silent, waited to behold
How one would act, so daring, yet so cold: 
And soon he found, between the friendly pair
That secrets pass’d which he was not to share;
But he resolved those secrets to obtain,
And quash rebellion in his lawful reign. 
   Stephen, though vain, was with his father mute;
He fear’d a crisis, and he shunn’d dispute;
And yet he long’d with youthful pride to show
He knew such things as farmers could not know;
These to the Grandam he with freedom spoke,
Saw her amazement, and enjoy’d the joke: 
But on the father when he cast his eye,
Something he found that made his valour shy;
And thus there seem’d to be a hollow truce,
Still threat’ning something dismal to produce. 
   Ere this the Father at his leisure read
The son’s choice volumes, and his wonder fled;
He saw how wrought the works of either kind
On so presuming, yet so weak a mind;
These in a chosen hour he made his prey,
Condemn’d, and bore with vengeful thoughts away;
Then in a close recess the couple near,
He sat unseen to see, unheard to hear. 
   There soon a trial for his patience came;
Beneath were placed the Youth and ancient Dame,
Each on a purpose fix’d—­but neither thought
How near a foe, with power and vengeance fraught. 
   And now the matron told, as tidings sad,
What she had heard of her beloved lad;
How he to graceless, wicked men gave heed,
And wicked books would night and morning read;
Some former lectures she again began,
And begg’d attention of her little man;
She brought, with many a pious boast, in view
His former studies, and condemn’d the new: 
Once he the names of saints and patriarchs old,
Judges and kings, and chiefs and prophets, told;
Then he in winter-nights the Bible took,
To count how often in the sacred book
The sacred name appear’d, and could rehearse
Which were the middle chapter, word, and verse,
The very letter in the middle placed,
And so employ’d the hours that others waste.