While thus the muse compares the works of God
With that of man, twelve miles of country road
Had borne the pressure of the chariot-wheel,
Since George and Jane partook their parting meal.
And here—a quaint secluded neighbourhood—
Just where the ruins of a convent stood,
A group of gipsies (tented in a cove)
Bore tokens of contentment and of love:
One of the tribe advanced towards the coach,
And begg’d permission that she might approach:
Lord Arnold stopp’d, and lent his gen’rous ear,
Whilst she address’d him with a gentle air:
And then, observing Arnold’s willing smile,
(He not unmindful of their practis’d guile)
Rehears’d a story with considerable tact,
And hard-endeavoured to enforce the fact—
Peace and prosperity for thee’s in store,
For thou art generous to the sick and poor!
“Two years from now,” she said, “thou shalt repair
To Hymen’s altar with your lady-fair;
And when, dear sir, the nuptial hour shall come
Much joy shall reign at thy paternal home:
Then, when twelve moons their course hath duly run,
Thy virtuous wife shall bless thee with a son!”
This startling prophecy astounded Jane,
Who seem’d desirous to proceed again;
But ere they started Arnold threw her down
A goodly portion of a “half-a-crown:”
“God bless you sir,” she pleasingly replies:
“And you, dear lady, with those lucky eyes,—
Ten thousand comforts ’wait thee in thy bow’r;
And Heav’n shall smile upon thy wedding-hour.”
Then Arnold, gathering in the careless rein,
Inclined his whip across the horses mane;
They bend their twin-like necks as they proceed,
And soon attain the regulated speed.
The converse now continued for awhile
Upon the subject of the gipsy’s tale;
When Jane, consistent with her lowly sphere,
Relieved her eye of an incredulous tear:
Her hope was where it had continually soar’d,
And forth in secret there her pray’rs were pour’d.
E’en, as the coach resum’d the onward course,
A thought struck Arnold, with emphatic force,—
That this sly woman, dexterous and sedate,
Might have inform’d herself on the estate:
“How cunning,” thought he; “well, it is their trade,
And fools are often innocently made.”