Who thought what woman she was then esteem’d;
But in few years, when she perceived, indeed,
The real woman to the girl succeed,
No longer tricks and honours fill’d her mind,
But other feelings, not so well defined;
She then reluctant grew, and thought it hard
To sit and ponder o’er an ugly card;
Rather the nut-tree shade the nymph preferr’d,
Pleased with the pensive gloom and evening bird;
Thither, from company retired, she took
The silent walk, or read the fav’rite book. 
   The father’s letter, sudden, short, and kind,
Awaked her wonder, and disturb’d her mind;
She found new dreams upon her fancy seize,
Wild roving thoughts and endless reveries. 
The parting came;—­and when the Aunt perceived
The tears of Sybil, and how much she grieved —
To love for her that tender grief she laid,
That various, soft, contending passions made. 
   When Sybil rested in her father’s arms,
His pride exulted in a daughter’s charms;
A maid accomplish’d he was pleased to find,
Nor seem’d the form more lovely than the mind: 
But when the fit of pride and fondness fled,
He saw his judgment by his hopes misled;
High were the lady’s spirits, far more free
Her mode of speaking than a maid’s should be;
Too much, as Jonas thought, she seem’d to know,
And all her knowledge was disposed to show;
“Too gay her dress, like theirs who idly dote
On a young coxcomb or a coxcomb’s coat;
In foolish spirits when our friends appear,
And vainly grave when not a man is near.” 
Thus Jonas, adding to his sorrow blame,
And terms disdainful to a Sister’s name: 
“The sinful wretch has by her arts denied
The ductile spirit of my darling child.” 
   “The maid is virtuous,” said the dame—­Quoth he,
“Let her give proof, by acting virtuously: 
Is it in gaping when the Elders pray? 
In reading nonsense half a summer’s day? 
In those mock forms that she delights to trace,
Or her loud laughs in Hezekiah’s face? 
She—­O Susannah!—­to the world belongs;
She loves the follies of its idle throngs,
And reads soft tales of love, and sings love’s soft’ning songs. 
But, as our friend is yet delay’d in town,
We must prepare her till the Youth comes down: 
You shall advise the maiden; I will threat;
Her fears and hopes may yield us comfort yet.” 
   Now the grave father took the lass aside,
Demanding sternly, “Wilt thou be a bride?”
She answer’d, calling up an air sedate,
“I have not vow’d against the holy state.” 
   “No folly, Sybil,” said the parent; “know
What to their parents virtuous maidens owe: 
A worthy, wealthy youth, whom I approve,
Must thou prepare to honour and to love. 
Formal to thee his air and dress may seem,
But the good youth is worthy of esteem: 
Shouldst thou with rudeness treat him; of disdain
Should he with justice or of slight complain,
Or of one taunting speech give certain proof,