Had more than beauty in each speaking grace,
That lent their cloudless glory to the face;
Where mild good sense in placid looks were shown,
And felt in every bosom but her own;
The one presiding feature in her mind
Was the pure meekness of a will resign’d;
A tender spirit, freed from all pretence
Of wit, and pleased in mild benevolence;
Bless’d in protecting fondness she reposed
With every wish indulged though undisclosed;
But love, like zephyr on the limpid lake,
Was now the bosom of the maid to shake,
And in that gentle mind a gentle strife to make. 
   Among their chosen friends, a favoured few
The aunt and niece a youthful Rector knew;
Who, though a younger brother, might address
A younger sister, fearless of success;
His friends, a lofty race, their native pride
At first display’d, and their assent denied: 
But, pleased such virtues and such love to trace,
They own’d she would adorn the loftiest race. 
The Aunt, a mother’s caution to supply,
Had watch’d the youthful priest with jealous eye;
And, anxious for her charge, had view’d unseen
The cautious life that keeps the conscience clean: 
In all she found him all she wish’d to find,
With slight exception of a lofty mind: 
A certain manner that express’d desire
To be received as brother to the ’Squire. 
Lucy’s meek eye had beam’d with many a tear,
Lucy’s soft heart had beat with many a fear,
Before he told (although his looks, she thought,
Had oft confess’d) that he her favour sought;
But when he kneel’d, (she wish’d him not to kneel,)
And spoke the fears and hopes that lovers feel;
When too the prudent aunt herself confess’d
Her wishes on the gentle youth would rest;
The maiden’s eye with tender passion beam’d,
She dwelt with fondness on the life she schemed;
The household cares, the soft and lasting ties
Of love, with all his binding charities;
Their village taught, consoled, assisted, fed,
Till the young zealot tears of pleasure shed. 
   But would her Mother?  Ah! she fear’d it wrong
To have indulged these forward hopes so long,
Her mother loved, but was not used to grant
Favours so freely as her gentle aunt. —
Her gentle aunt, with smiles that angels wear,
Dispell’d her Lucy’s apprehensive tear: 
Her prudent foresight the request had made
To one whom none could govern, few persuade;
She doubted much if one in earnest woo’d
A girl with not a single charm endued;
The Sister’s nobler views she then declared,
And what small sum for Lucy could be spared;
“If more than this the foolish priest requires,
Tell him,” she wrote,” to check his vain desires.” 
At length, with many a cold expression mix’d,
With many a sneer on girls so fondly fix’d,
There came a promise—­should they not repent,
But take with grateful minds the portion meant,
And wait the Sister’s day—­the Mother