The ’Squire receives the prize his merits won,
And the glad parents leave the patron-son.
But in short time he saw, with much surprise,
First gloom, then grief, and then resentment rise,
From proud, commanding frowns, and anger-darting eyes:
“Is there in Harriot’s humble mind this fire,
This fierce impatience?” ask’d the puzzled ’Squire:
“Has marriage changed her? or the mask she wore
Has she thrown by, and is herself once more?”
Hour after hour, when clouds on clouds appear,