Thesereasons strongly with the mother weighed;
          Her visit to the ’squire was not delayed;
          With fond affection for her darling heir,
          One morn, alone she sought the lorn repair.

          ToFred’rick’s eye an angel she appeared;
          But shame he felt, that she, his soul revered,
          Should find him poor:—­no servants to attend,
          Nor means to give a dinner to a friend. 
          The poverty in which he now was viewed,
          Distressed his mind and all his griefs renewed. 
          Why come? said he; what led you thus to trace,
          An humble slave of your celestial face? 
          A villager, a wretched being here;
          Too great the honour doubtless must appear;
          ’Twas somewhere else you surely meant to go? 
          The lady in a moment answered no. 
          Cried he, I’ve neither cook nor kettle left;
          Then how can I receive you, thus bereft? 
          But you have bread, said Clytia:—­that will do;—­
          The lover quickly to the poultry flew,
          In search of eggs; some bacon too he found;
          But nothing else, except the hawk renowned,
          Which caught his eye, and instantly was seized,
          Slain, plucked, and made a fricassee that pleased.

Meanwhile the house-keeper for linen sought; Knives, forks, plates, spoons, cups, glass and chairs she brought; The fricassee was served, the dame partook, And on the dish with pleasure seemed to look.

          Thedinner o’er, the widow then resolved,
          To ask the boon which in her mind resolved. 
          She thus begun:—­good sir, you’ll think me mad,
          To come and to your breast fresh trouble add;
          I’ve much to ask, and you will feel surprise,
          That one, for whom your love could ne’er suffice,
          Should now request your celebrated bird;
          Can I expect the grant?—­the thought ’s absurd
          But pardon pray a mother’s anxious fear;
          ’Tis for my child:—­his life to me is dear. 
          The falcon solely can the infant save;
          Yet since to you I nothing ever gave,
          For all your kindness oft on me bestowed;
          Your fortune wasted:—­e’en your nice abode,
          Alas! disposed of, large supplies to raise,
          To entertain and please in various ways: 
          I cannot hope this falcon to obtain;
          For sure I am the expectation’s vane;
          No, rather perish child and mother too;
          Than such uneasiness should you pursue: 
          Allow howe’er this parent, I beseech,
          Who loves her offspring ’yond the pow’r of speech,
          Or language to express, her only boy,
          Sole hope, sole comfort, all her earthly joy,