Love of Prudence.

'Nature's first wants hard labour should supply; 'But should it fail, 'twill be too late to fly. 'Some Summers hence, if nought our loves annoy, 'The image of my Jane may lisp her joy; 'Or, blooming boys with imitative swing 'May mock my arm, and make the Anvil ring; 'Then if in rags.—But, O my heart, forbear,— 'I love the Girl, and why should I despair? 'And that I love her all the village knows; 'Oft from my pain the mirth of others flows; 'As when a neighbour's Steed with glancing eye 'Saw his par'd hoof supported on my thigh: 'Jane pass'd that instant; mischief came of course; 'I drove the nail awry and lam'd the Horse; 'The poor beast limp'd: I bore a Master's frown, 'A thousand times I wish'd the wound my own. 'When to these tangling thoughts I've been resign'd, 'Fury or languor has possess'd my mind,