Forced bluntly back the proffer’d gold;—
“Forgive a haughty English heart,
And oh, forget its ruder part!
The vacant purse shall be my share,
Which in my barret cap I’ll bear,
Perchance, in jeopardy of war,
Where gayer crests may keep afar.”
With thanks—’twas all she could—the maid
His rugged courtesy repaid.