That no once leading thoughts engaged me now? Was I convinced th’ enthusiastic man Had ruin’d what the loving boy began? I answer doubting--I could still detect 600 Feelings too soft--yet him I could reject: Feelings that came when I had least employ-- When common pleasures I could least enjoy-- When I was pacing lonely in the rays Of a full moon, in lonely walks and ways-- When I was sighing o’er a tale’s distress, And paid attention to my Bible less. These found, I sought my remedies for these; I suffer’d common things my mind to please, And common pleasures; seldom walk’d alone, 610 Nor when the moon upon the waters shone; But then my candles lit, my window closed, My needle took, and with my neighbours prosed; And in one year--nay, ere the end of one, My labour ended, and my love was done. My heart at rest, I boldly look’d within, And dared to ask it of its secret sin; Alas! with pride it answer’d, “Look around, And tell me where a better heart is found.” And then I traced my virtues; O! how few, 620 In fact, they were, and yet how vain I grew; Thought of my kindness, condescension, ease, My will, my wishes, nay, my power to please; I judged me prudent, rational, discreet, And void of folly, falsehood and deceit; I read, not lightly, as I some had known, But made an author’s meaning all my own; In short, what lady could a poet choose As a superior subject for his muse? So said my heart; and Conscience straight replied-- } “I say the matter is not fairly tried: } 631 I am offended, hurt, dissatisfied. } First of the Christian graces, let me see What thy pretensions to humility? Art thou prepared for trial? Wilt thou say ‘I am this being,’ and for judgment pray? And, with the gallant Frenchman, wilt thou cry, When to thy judge presented, ‘thus am I-- Thus was I formed--these talents I possess’d-- So I employed them--and thou know’st the rest?’” 640 Thus Conscience; and she then a picture drew, And bade me think and tremble at the view. One I beheld--a wife, a mother--go To gloomy scenes of wickedness and wo; She sought her way through all things vile and base, And made a prison a religious place; Fighting her way--the way that angels fight With powers of darkness--to let in the light. Tell me, my heart, hast thou such victory won As this, a sinner of thy sex, has done, 650 And calls herself a sinner? What art thou? And where thy praise and exaltation now? Yet is she tender, delicate, and nice, And shrinks from all depravity and vice; Shrinks from the ruffian gaze, the savage gloom, That reign where guilt and misery find an home-- Guilt chain’d, and misery purchased; and with them