With aught beside his guide had no concern. He might to neighb’ring towns or distant ride, 540 And there amusements seek without a guide; With handsome prints his private room was graced, } His music there, and there his books were placed; } Men knew not if he farm’d, but they allow’d him taste. } Books, prints, and music, cease, at times, to charm, And sometimes men can neither ride nor farm; They look for kindred minds, and Cecil found, In Farmer Ellis, one inform’d and sound; But in his wife—I hate the fact I tell— A lovely being, who could please too well; 550 And he was one who never would deny Himself a pleasure, or indeed would try. Early and well the wife of Ellis knew Where danger was, and trembled at the view; So evil spirits tremble, but are still Evil, and lose not the rebellious will. She sought not safety from the fancied crime, “And why retreat before the dangerous time?” Oft came the student of the farm and read, And found his mind with more than reading fed: 560 This Ellis seeing, left them, or he staid, As pleased him, not offended nor afraid: He came in spirits with his girls to play, Then ask excuse, and, laughing, walk away: When, as he entered, Cecil ceased to read, He would exclaim, “Proceed, my friend, proceed!” Or, sometimes weary, would to bed retire, And fear and anger by his ease inspire. “My conversation does he then despise? Leaves he this slighted face for other eyes?” 570 So said Alicia; and she dwelt so long Upon that thought, to leave her was to wrong. Alas! the woman loved the soothing tongue, That yet pronounced her beautiful and young; The tongue that, seeming careless, ever praised; The eye that, roving, on her person gazed; The ready service, on the watch to please; And all such sweet, small courtesies as these. Still there was virtue, but a rolling stone On a hill’s brow is not more quickly gone; 580 The slightest motion—ceasing from our care— A moment’s absence—when we’re not aware— When down it rolls, and at the bottom lies, Sunk, lost, degraded, never more to rise! Far off the glorious height from whence it fell, With all things base and infamous to dwell. Friendship with woman is a dangerous thing— Thence hopes avow’d and bold confessions spring; Frailties confess’d to other frailties lead, And new confessions new desires succeed; 590 And, when the friends have thus their hearts disclosed, They find how little is to guilt opposed. The foe’s attack will on the fort begin, When he is certain of a friend within. When all was lost—or, in the lover’s sight, When all was won—the lady thought of flight. “What! sink a slave?” she said, “and with deceit The rigid virtue of a husband meet? No! arm’d with death, I would his fury brave, And own the justice of the blow he gave! 600 But thus to see him easy, careless, cold,