FOOTNOTES: 

   [Footnote 6:  “Good, Sarah, that’s right!  If we can find one that
   worthy of you, we will send him along.”—­Editor.]

ODE TO SARAH.[7]

     Rural maid, who, o’er glade,
   Forest, plain, and mountain, roam
     In joy and peace, and made
   Happy by the brook’s gay foam;
     Who art content to live
   In the farmer’s domicil;
     A listening ear give
   To a stranger, who, with quill
     In hand, sits down to write
   An epistle, or letter,
     To one, of whom it might
   Be said, she’s far his better.

     Fair maiden, thou hast said,
   And I doubt not truly too,
     A farmer thou would wed,
   If he would sincerely woo
     Thy heart’s best affection,
   And at the holy altar
     Vow, that kind protection
   He’d give thee, and never falter,
     But sacred keep the vow
   Thus solemn made, and never,
     So long as life lasts, bow
   Down, and let this bond sever.

     Lady fair, wouldst thou dare
   A mechanic’s wife to be,
     And with him toil, and share
   All the ills of life’s rough sea? 
     Wouldst thou trust thy frail bark
   In his hands, and if perchance
     Ills should come, thick and dark,
   Stand firmly, and thus enhance
     His happiness, and not,
   At disappointment’s first dart,
     Complain of thy sad lot,
   And sink under a faint heart?

     What sayest thou, fair one? 
   Dost thou view the mechanic,
     As some fair ones have done,
   With disgust, who grow frantic
     At the sight of his dress,
   Just because it does not fit
     So smooth as they confess
   That they should like to see it? 
     Dost thou, in honesty
   Of heart, think him good and wise. 
     And in sincerity
   Believe him not otherwise?

     Dear lady, wouldst not thou,
   To flee “single blessedness,”
     Accept an offer now
   From a mechanic, and bless
     Him, throughout a long life,
   With thy good fairy presence,
     And ne’er the cry of strife
   Raise, but yield obedience? 
     If him thou wilt many,
   Give him soon thy residence,
     That he may not tarry,
   But, with lightning speed, fly hence.

FOOTNOTES: 

   [Footnote 7:  Authoress of “Praises of Rural Life.”]

JERE.

AN EPISTLE TO JERE, IN ANSWER TO HIS ODE.