So read the husband, and, with troubled mind, Reveal’d his fears--“My love, I hope you find All here is pleasant--but I must confess } You seem offended, or in some distress; } Explain the grief you feel, and leave me to redress.” } “Leave it to you?” replied the nymph--“indeed! What--to the cause from whence the ills proceed? Good Heaven! to take me from a place, where I 240 Had every comfort underneath the sky; And then immure me in a gloomy place, With the grim monsters of your ugly race, That from their canvas staring, make me dread Through the dark chambers where they hang to tread! No friend nor neighbour comes to give that joy, Which all things here must banish or destroy: Where is the promised coach? the pleasant ride? Oh! what a fortune has a farmer’s bride! Your sordid pride has placed me just above 250 Your hired domestics--and what pays me? love! A selfish fondness I endure each hour, And share unwitness’d pomp, unenvied power; I hear your folly, smile at your parade, And see your favourite dishes duly made; Then am I richly dress’d for you t’ admire, Such is my duty and my lord’s desire; Is this a life for youth, for health, for joy? Are these my duties--this my base employ? No! to my father’s house will I repair, 260 And make your idle wealth support me there; Was it your wish to have an humble bride For bondage thankful? Curse upon your pride! Was it a slave you wanted? You shall see, That, if not happy, I at least am free; Well, sir, your answer!”--silent stood the ’squire, As looks a miser at his house on fire; Where all he deems is vanish’d in that flame, Swept from the earth his substance and his name: So, lost to every promised joy of life, 270 Our ’squire stood gaping at his angry wife;-- His fate, his ruin, where he saw it vain To hope for peace, pray, threaten, or complain; And thus, betwixt his wonder at the ill And his despair--there stood he gaping still. “Your answer, sir--shall I depart a spot I thus detest?”--“Oh, miserable lot!” Exclaim’d the man; “Go, serpent! nor remain To sharpen wo by insult and disdain: A nest of harpies was I doom’d to meet; 280 What plots, what combinations of deceit! I see it now--all plann’d, design’d, contrived; Served by that villain--by this fury wived-- What fate is mine! What wisdom, virtue, truth, Can stand, if dæmons set their traps for youth? He lose his way! vile dog! he cannot lose The way a villain through his life pursues; And thou, deceiver! thou, afraid to move, And hiding close the serpent in the dove! I saw--but, fated to endure disgrace, 290 Unheeding saw, the fury in thy face;