And means she aught by this expected fleet? Knows she her purpose? has she hope to see Some friend to aid her in her poverty? 50 Why leave her thus bewilder’d to pursue The fancy’s good, that never comes in view?”— “Nay! she is harmless, and, if more confined, Would more distress in the coercion find. Save at the times when to the coast she flies, She rests, nor shows her mind’s obliquities; But ever talks she of the sea, and shows Her sympathy with every wind that blows. We think it, therefore, useless to restrain A creature of whose conduct none complain; 60 Whose age and looks protect her—should they fail, Her craft and wild demeanour will prevail. A soldier once attack’d her on her way— She spared him not, but bade him kneel and pray— Praying herself aloud—th’ astonish’d man Was so confounded, that away he ran. “Her sailor left her, with, perhaps, intent To make her his—’tis doubtful what he meant: But he was captured, and the life he led Drove all such young engagements from his head. 70 On him she ever thought, and none beside, Seeking her love, were favour’d or denied; On her dear David she had fix’d her view, And fancy judged him ever fond and true. Nay, young and handsome—Time could not destroy— No—he was still the same—her gallant boy! Labour had made her coarse, and her attire Show’d that she wanted no one to admire; None to commend her; but she could conceive The same of him, as when he took his leave, 80 And gaily told what riches he would bring, And grace her hand with the symbolic ring. “With want and labour was her mind subdued; She lived in sorrow and in solitude. Religious neighbours, kindly calling, found Her thoughts unsettled, anxious, and unsound; Low, superstitious, querulous, and weak, She sought for rest, but knew not how to seek; And their instructions, though in kindness meant Were far from yielding the desired content. 90 They hoped to give her notions of their own, And talk’d of ‘feelings’ she had never known; They ask’d of her ‘experience,’ and they bred In her weak mind a melancholy dread Of something wanting in her faith, of some— She knew not what—‘acceptance,’ that should come; And, as it came not, she was much afraid That she in vain had served her God and pray’d. “She thought her Lover dead. In prayer she named The erring Youth, and hoped he was reclaim’d. 100 This she confess’d; and trembling, heard them say, ‘Her prayers were sinful—So the papists pray. Her David’s fate had been decided long, And prayers and wishes for his state were wrong.’ “Had these her guides united love and skill, They might have ruled and rectified her will; But they perceived not the bewilder’d mind, And show’d her paths that she could never find. The weakness that was Nature’s, they reproved, And all its comforts from the Heart removed. 110