Strong was the maiden’s hope; her friend was proud, And had her notions to the world avow’d; And, could she find the Merchant weak and frail, With power to prove it, then she must prevail; For she aloud would publish his disgrace, 280 And save his victim from a man so base. When all inquiries had been duly made, Came the kind friend her burthen to unlade:-- “Alas! my dear! not all our care and art Can tread the maze of man’s deceitful heart: Look not surprise--nor let resentment swell Those lovely features, all will yet be well; And thou, from love’s and man’s deceptions free, Wilt dwell in virgin-state, and walk to heav’n with me.” The maiden frown’d, and then conceived “that wives 290 Could walk as well, and lead as holy lives As angry prudes who scorn’d the marriage-chain, Or luckless maids who sought it still in vain.” The friend was vex’d--she paused, at length she cried: “Know your own danger, then your lot decide; That traitor Beswell, while he seeks your hand, Has, I affirm, a wanton at command; A slave, a creature from a foreign place, The nurse and mother of a spurious race; Brown, ugly bastards--(Heaven the word forgive, 300 And the deed punish!)--in his cottage live; To town if business calls him, there he stays In sinful pleasures wasting countless days; Nor doubt the facts, for I can witness call For every crime, and prove them one and all.” Here ceased th’ informer; Arabella’s look Was like a school-boy’s puzzled by his book; Intent she cast her eyes upon the floor, Paused--then replied-- “I wish to know no more: I question not your motive, zeal, or love, 310 But must decline such dubious points to prove.-- All is not true, I judge, for who can guess Those deeds of darkness men with care suppress? He brought a slave perhaps to England’s coast, And made her free; it is our country’s boast! And she perchance too grateful--good and ill Were sown at first, and grow together still; The colour’d infants on the village-green, What are they more than we have often seen? Children half-clothed who round their village stray, } 320 In sun or rain, now starved, now beaten, they } Will the dark colour of their fate betray; } Let us in Christian love for all account, And then behold to what such tales amount.” “His heart is evil,” said th’ impatient friend-- “My duty bids me try that heart to mend,” Replied the virgin--“We may be too nice, And lose a soul in our contempt of vice; If false the charge, I then shall show regard For a good man, and be his just reward; 330 And what for virtue can I better do Than to reclaim him, if the charge be true?” She spoke, nor more her holy work delay’d;