Such were his thoughts, when Conscience first began To hold close converse with th’ awaken’d man. He from that time reserved and cautious grew, And for his duties felt obedience due; 50 Pious he was not, but he fear’d the pain Of sins committed, nor would sin again. Whene’er he stray’d, he found his Conscience rose, } Like one determined what was ill t’ oppose, } What wrong t’ accuse, what secret to disclose; } To drag forth every latent act to light, And fix them fully in the actor’s sight: This gave him trouble, but he still confess’d The labour useful, for it brought him rest. The uncle died, and when the nephew read 60 The will, and saw the substance of the dead-- Five hundred guineas, with a stock in trade-- He much rejoiced, and thought his fortune made; Yet felt aspiring pleasure at the sight, And, for increase, increasing appetite. Desire of profit idle habits check’d, (For Fulham’s virtue was to be correct); He and his Conscience had their compact made-- “Urge me with truth, and you will soon persuade; But not,” he cried, “for mere ideal things 70 Give me to feel those terror-breeding stings.” “Let not such thoughts,” she said, “your mind confound; Trifles may wake me, but they never wound; In them indeed there is a wrong and right, But you will find me pliant and polite; Not like a Conscience of the dotard kind, Awake to dreams, to dire offences blind. Let all within be pure; in all beside Be your own master, governor, and guide; Alive to danger, in temptation strong-- 80 And I shall sleep our whole existence long.” “Sweet be thy sleep,” said Fulham; “strong must be The tempting ill that gains access to me; Never will I to evil deed consent, Or, if surprised, oh! how will I repent! Should gain be doubtful, soon would I restore The dangerous good, or give it to the poor; Repose for them my growing wealth shall buy-- Or build--who knows?--an hospital like Guy.-- Yet why such means to soothe the smart within, 90 While firmly purposed to renounce the sin?” Thus our young Trader and his Conscience dwelt In mutual love, and great the joy they felt; But yet in small concerns, in trivial things, “She was,” he said, “too ready with the stings;” And he too apt, in search of growing gains, To lose the fear of penalties and pains: Yet these were trifling bickerings, petty jars, Domestic strifes, preliminary wars; He ventured little, little she express’d 100 Of indignation, and they both had rest. Thus was he fix’d to walk the worthy way, When profit urged him to a bold essay.-- A time was that when all at pleasure gamed In lottery-chances, yet of law unblamed;