Fives moons revolv’d, and one revolving then,
Transported Arnold o’er the refluent main.
At home, and safely housed at Rollingate,
(Install’d dictator of his own estate,)
He plann’d the journey to that sylvan bow’r
Where stood the cot, and urg’d his anxious tour:
Consider’d well the steps that he should take,
And how t’approach the little shingle-gate,
O’er-arch’d with honeysuckle in full bloom,
Which form’d the portal to that humble home.
Forth Arnold went: he listen’d, heard the clock—
The only sound within, then gave a knock:
He knock’d again: remained in deep suspense:
Went round the oak, on to the rearward fence:
There he beheld, with his unerring eye,
Jane Hollybrand! he spoke: thus her reply:—
“My father is at work, sir, in the field
Preparing there the fallow to be till’d;
And, sir, I’m sure he never will consent
For me to leave this humble tenement,—
Nay: all the promises on earth will not
Suffice t’induce him let me leave this cot:”
(Now all the time this conversation pass’d
Persuasive Arnold’s hand in Jane’s was clasp’d;
But she could not, so timid, understand
Wherefore and why he thus desired her hand.)
“And, sir, my mother has been long since dead,
And father, only, earns our daily bread:”
Continued Jane: “but if you’d like to go
To see my father, where you observe the plough,[180]
And you should find him willing to comply,
Why sir,” * * * She paus’d, and wept, a tear fell from her eye!—
Her heart was full: and, blushing, fain would cry.
[180] Pointing to the field, which could be seen from the garden, where
they were standing.