If she again--but was there cause?--should send, Let her direct--and then she named a friend.-- 220 A sad expedient, untried friends to trust, And still to fear the tried may be unjust: Such is his pain, who, by his debt oppress’d, Seeks by new bonds a temporary rest. Few were her peaceful days till Anna read The words she dreaded, and had cause to dread:-- “Did she believe, did she, unkind, suppose That thus Eliza’s friendship was to close? No! though she tried, and her desire was plain, To break the friendly bond, she strove in vain: 230 Ask’d she for silence? why so loud the call, And yet the token of her love so small? By means like these will you attempt to bind And check the movements of an injured mind? Poor as I am, I shall be proud to show What dangerous secrets I may safely know. Secrets, to men of jealous minds convey’d, Have many a noble house in ruins laid; Anna, I trust, although with wrongs beset, And urged by want, I shall be faithful yet; 240 But what temptation may from these arise, To take a slighted woman by surprise, Becomes a subject for your serious care-- For who offends, must for offence prepare.” Perplex’d, dismay’d, the wife foresaw her doom; A day deferr’d was yet a day to come; But still, though painful her suspended state, She dreaded more the crisis of her fate; Better to die than Stafford’s scorn to meet, And her strange friend perhaps would be discreet. 250 Presents she sent, and made a strong appeal To woman’s feelings, begging her to feel; With too much force she wrote of jealous men, And her tears falling spoke beyond the pen; Eliza’s silence she again implored, And promised all that prudence could afford. For looks composed and careless Anna tried; She seem’d in trouble, and unconscious sigh’d: The faithful husband, who devoutly loved His silent partner, with concern reproved: 260 “What secret sorrows on my Anna press, That love may not partake, nor care redress?” “None, none,” she answer’d, with a look so kind, That the fond man determined to be blind. A few succeeding weeks of brief repose In Anna’s cheek revived the faded rose; A hue like this the western sky displays, That glows awhile, and withers as we gaze. Again the friend’s tormenting letter came-- “The wants she suffer’d were affection’s shame; 270 She with her child a life of terrors led, Unhappy fruit! but of a lawful bed. Her friend was tasting every bliss in life, The joyful mother, and the wealthy wife; While she was placed in doubt, in fear, in want, To starve on trifles that the happy grant; Poorly for all her faithful silence paid, And tantalized by ineffectual aid. She could not thus a beggar’s lot endure;