For what prevented?—say, she seem’d to read; When one there came, her own sad cause to plead; A stranger she, who fearless named that cause, A breach in love’s and honour’s sacred laws. 100 “In a far country, Lady, bleak and wild, Report has reach’d me: how art thou beguiled! Or dared he tell thee, that for ten sad years He saw me struggling with fond hopes and fears? “From my dear home he won me, blest and free, To be his victim.”——“Madam, who is _he_?” “Not yet thy husband, Lady; no! not yet; For he has first to pay a mighty debt.” “Speaks he not of religion?”—“So he speaks, When he the ruin of his victim seeks. 110 How smooth and gracious were his words, how sweet— The fiend his master prompting his deceit! Me he with kind instruction led to trust In one who seem’d so grave, so kind, so just. Books to amuse me, and inform, he brought, Like that old serpent with temptation fraught; His like the precepts of the wise appear’d, Till I imbibed the vice I had not fear’d. By pleasant tales and dissertations gay, He wiled the lessons of my youth away. 120 “Of moral duties he would talk, and prove They gave a sanction, and commanded love; His sober smile at forms and rites was shown, To make my mind depraved, and like his own. “But wilt thou take him? wilt thou ruin take, With a grave robber, a religious rake? ’Tis not to serve thee, Lady, that I came— ’Tis not to claim him, ’tis not to reclaim— But ’tis that he may for my wrongs be paid, And feel the vengeance of the wretch he made. 130 “Not for myself I thy attention claim } My children dare not take their father’s name; } They know no parent’s love—love will not dwell with shame. } What law would force, he not without it gives, And hates each living wretch, because it lives! Yet, with these sinful stains, the man is mine: } How will he curse me for this rash design! } Yes—I will bear his curse, but him will not resign. } “I see thee grieved; but, Lady, what thy grief? It may be pungent, but it must be brief. 140 Pious thou art; but what will profit thee, Match’d with a demon, woman’s piety? Not for thy sake my wrongs and wrath I tell, Revenge I seek! but yet, I wish thee well. And now I leave thee! Thou art warn’d by one, The rock on which her peace was wreck’d to shun.” The Lover heard; but not in time to stay A woman’s vengeance in its headlong way. Yet he essay’d, with no unpractised skill, To warp the judgment, or at least the will; 150 To raise such tumults in the poor weak heart, That Jane, believing all—yet should not dare to part. But there was Virtue in her mind that strove With all his eloquence, and all her love; He told what hope and frailty dared to tell, And all was answered by a stern _Farewell_! Home with his consort he returned once more; And they resumed the life they led before.