New forms, new measures, he must now embrace, With sad conviction that they warr’d with grace; To his new church no former friend would come, They scarce preferr’d her to the church of Rome. But, thinking much, and weighing guilt and gain, Conscience and he commuted for her pain; Then promised Fulham to retain his creed, And their peculiar paupers still to feed; Their attic-room (in secret) to attend, 290 And not forget he was the preacher’s friend; Thus he proposed, and Conscience, troubled, tried, And wanting peace, reluctantly complied. Now care subdued, and apprehensions gone, In peace our hero went aspiring on; But short the period--soon a quarrel rose, Fierce in the birth, and fatal in the close; With times of truce between, which rather proved That both were weary, than that either loved. Fulham ev’n now disliked the heavy thrall, } 300 And for her death would in his anguish call, } As Rome’s mistaken friend exclaim’d, } _Let Carthage fall_! } So felt our hero, so his wish express’d, Against this powerful sprite--_delenda est_. Rome in her conquest saw not danger near, Freed from her rival, and without a fear; So, Conscience conquer’d, men perceive how free, But not how fatal, such a state must be. Fatal, not free, our hero’s: foe or friend, Conscience on him was destined to attend; 310 She [dozed] indeed, grew dull, nor seem’d to spy Crime following crime, and each of deeper dye; But all were noticed, and the reckoning time With her account came on--crime following crime. This, once a foe, now brother in the trust, Whom Fulham late described as fair and just, Was the sole guardian of a wealthy maid, Placed in his power, and of his frown afraid: Not quite an idiot, for her busy brain Sought, by poor cunning, trifling points to gain; 320 Success in childish projects her delight, She took no heed of each important right. The friendly parties met--the guardian cried, “I am too old; my sons have each a bride: Martha, my ward, would make an easy wife; On easy terms I’ll make her yours for life; And then the creature is so weak and mild, She may be soothed and threaten’d as a child--” “Yet not obey,” said Fulham, “for your fools, Female and male, are obstinate as mules.” 330 Some points adjusted, these new friends agreed, Proposed the day, and hurried on the deed. “’Tis a vile act,” said Conscience;--“It will prove,” Replied the bolder man, “an act of love; Her wicked guardian might the girl have sold To endless misery for a tyrant’s gold; Now may her life be happy--for I mean To keep my temper even and serene.” “I cannot thus compound,” the spirit cried,