James on her worth and virtue could depend— He listen’d gladly to her story’s end; Again he promised Robert’s life to save, And claim’d the hand that she in payment gave. Robert, when death no longer was in view, Scorn’d what was done, but could not this undo. The day appointed for the trial near He view’d with shame, and not unmix’d with fear:— 410 James might deceive him; and, if not, the schemes Of men may fail——“Can I depend on James?” He might; for now the grievous price was paid— James to the altar led the victim maid, And gave the trembling girl his faithful word For Robert’s safety; and so gave my lord. But this, and all the promise hope could give, Gilded not life—it was not joy to live; There was no smile in Rachel, nothing gay; The hours pass’d off, but never danced away. 420 When drew the gloomy day for trial near There came a note to Robert—“Banish fear!” He knew whence safety came—his terror fled, But rage and vengeance fill’d his soul instead. A stronger fear in his companions rose— The day of trial on their hopes might close: They had no brothers, none to intercede For them, their friends suspected, and in need; Scatter’d, they judged, and could unite no more— Not so, they then were at the prison door. 430 For some had met who sought the haunts they loved, And were to pity and to vengeance moved: Their fellows perish! and they see their fall— “Why not attempt the steep but guardless wall?” Attempt was made, his part assign’d each man, And they succeeded in the desperate plan; In truth, a purposed mercy smooth’d their way, But that they knew not—all triumphant they. Safe in their well-known haunts, they all prepared To plan anew, and show how much they dared. 440 With joy the troubled heart of Robert beat, For life was his, and liberty was sweet; He look’d around in freedom——in delight? O! no—his Rachel was another’s right! “Right!—has he then preserved me in the day Of my distress?—He has the lovely pay, But I no freedom at the [slave’s] request! The price I paid shall then be repossess’d! Alas! her virtue and the law prevent, Force cannot be, and she will not consent; 450 But were that brother gone!—A brother? No! A circumventor!—and the wretch shall go! Yet not this hand—How shifts about my mind, Ungovern’d, guideless, drifting in the wind; And I am all a tempest, whirl’d around By dreadful thoughts, that fright me and confound!— I would I saw him on the earth laid low! I wish the fate, but must not give the blow!” So thinks a man when thoughtful; he prefers A life of peace till man his anger stirs; 460 Then all the efforts of his reason cease, And he forgets how pleasant was that peace; Till the wild passions what they seek obtain, And then he sinks into his calm again. Now met the lawless clan—in secret met,