Obedient to the Hand which governs heav’n—
The Power by which the spacious earth is driv’n,
Round roll’d this mighty globe with awful speed;
The virgin moon perform’d her holy deed—
Reflecting God’s undeviating light,
Which gives us day, while she attends the night.
At length Jane Hollybrand, expectant, saw—
Though to her sorrow, coming very slow’—
The bumpkin postman, who appear’d intent
On solving some rude myst’ry as he went;
And then, as fate would have it, stopp’d to see
If he could work it out ’rithmetic’lly,—
Threw down his bag, regardless of its worth,
And sat himself upon dear Mother Earth;
There bask’d, as ’twere, full in old Horus’ eye,
Whilst she, expecting him,[227] could almost cry—
So sad was this suspense; but when he came,
The joy she felt relieved the man from blame.
Now her sweet features glowed with ruddy hue,
And as she read the letter through and through
She seem’d to pause at one particular place,
And raised her handkerchief towards her face,—
No doubt ’twas done t’obstruct the lucent tear,
Urged on perceiving that the time drew near
For her espousal, and that happy hour
When love, unhamper’d, delegates its pow’r.
’Mong other things (momentous as a whole)
He gave instructions that the central-hall
Should be re-decorated, and elsewhere—
Which needed it—to undergo repair.
He lovingly express’d a great desire
That Jane, at once, should choose her own attire,—
“Have every necessary thing,” he wrote, “complete
Mind not the cost, my love, but be discreet;
Bid dear Aunt Toogood do the same, and lo!
See that she gets her locks[228] curl’d up anew:
Let Slash (the coachman) and old honest John[229]
Get each a suit, and neatly fitted on;—
In fact, the servants all, each in their sphere,
Must on that day in wedding-garb appear:
And now, dear Jane, the last and not the least—
Invite your father to the marriage-feast,—
Tell him, my darling, I’ll require his aid,
And hope, some day, to see him well repaid;
Ask him to name, when next he goes to ‘town,’[230]
To my familiar friend, Sir Humphrey Brown,
And his good Lady, that (if all goes well)
I hope to pass again through Ruttendell
About the middle of the month ensuing
(The anniversary month of my first wooing):
I find, at Dover, I’ll arrive too late
To catch the coach, so will communicate
From thence to you, dear Jane, will also write
To dear Sir H——, and give him an ‘invite.’”
[227] The postman.
[228] Artificial tresses.
[229] John Somers, the head groom.
[230] Ruttendell.