It happen’d now, when fifteen years had flown,
That Arnold’s parents, both were—dead and gone!
And he became sole master of his own,—
Inheritor of all his father’s wealth.
Thus then, the son, being dubious of his health,
Bethought himself—to England I’ll return;
And there, my duty shall be first to learn
Whether old Hollybrand, of modest mien,
Is still protector of that “cottage queen:”
And she in beauty, virtue, now the same
As when she set my bosom in a flame!
If so, she still must be her father’s joy,
And still dependent on his mere employ;
Still scrubs the floor, and feeds the drowsy sow,
While George, himself, is toiling with the plough:
“Ah! (Arnold said—whilst wond’ring if ’twere so)
Six moons from now I trust in God to know.”
This said, h’ announced his firm resolve to go.