'Tween high and low, 'tween man and maid,
And though Quæ Genus was the first,
He had his portion with the worst.
Our Hero thought it wond'rous hard
Thus to be foil'd of his reward,
That which, in ev'ry point of view,
He felt to be his honest due;
And both his master and his friend
Did to his services intend;
Which, as the sun at noontide clear,
Does by the codicil appear: |
But when he ask'd Sir Jeffery's heir
(Who did so large a fortune share)
The blank hiatus to repair, | } |
Which he with truth could represent
As an untoward accident,
The wealthy merchant shook his head
And bade him go and ask the dead.
Quæ Genus ventur'd to reply
While his breast heav'd a painful sigh,
"The dead, you know, Sir, cannot speak,
But could the grave its silence break,
I humbly ask your gen'rous heart,
Would not its language take my part,
Would it not utter, 'O fulfil
The purpose of the codicil?'
Would it not tell you to supply
The blank with a due legacy?"
The rich man, turning on his heel,
Did not the rising taunt conceal.
"All that the grave may please to say,
I promise, friend, I will obey." |
What could be done with this high Cit,
But to look sad and to submit;
For it could answer no good end
Though indispos'd to be a friend,
That kind of discontent to show
Which might convert him to a foe.