Why, said my master, it is turned with beautiful simplicity, thus:
IV.
Alas! said I, how can I frame
My heavy heart to sing,
Or tune my mind, while thus enthrall’d
By such a wicked thing?
Very pretty, said Mr. Williams. Lady Jones said, O, dear madam! could you wish that we should be deprived of this new instance of your genius and accomplishments?
O! said my dear father, you will make my good child proud. No, said my master very generously, Pamela can’t be proud. For no one is proud to hear themselves praised, but those who are not used to it.—But proceed, Mr. Williams. He read:
V.
But yet, if I Jerusalem