Of that same night have dreadful things to tell. Of outward force, they say, was not a sign— The hand that struck him was the Hand Divine; And then the Fiend, in that same stormy night, Was heard—as many thought—to claim his right; While grinning imps the body danced about, And then they vanish’d with triumphant shout. So think the crowd, and well it seems in them, 230 That ev’n their dreams and fancies vice condemn; That not alone for virtue Reason pleads, But Nature shudders at unholy deeds; While our strong fancy lists in her defence, And takes the side of Truth and Innocence. IV. _P._ But, what the fortune of the MAN, whose fear Inform’d his Conscience that the foe was near; But yet whose interest to his desk confined That sober CLERK of indecisive mind? _F._ JOHN served his master, with himself at strife, 240 For he with Conscience lived like man and wife; Now jarring, now at peace,—the life they led Was all contention, both at board and bed: His meals were troubled by his scruples all, And in his dreams he was about to fall Into some strong temptation—for it seems He never could resist it in his dreams. At length his MASTER, dealer, smuggler, cheat, As John would call him in his temper’s heat, Proposed a something—what, is dubious still— 230 That John resisted with a stout good-will. Scruples like his were treated with disdain, Whose waking conscience spurn’d the offer’d gain. “Quit then my office, scoundrel, and begone!” “I dare not do it,” said the affrighten’d John. “What fear’st thou, driveller! can thy fancy tell?” “I doubt,” said John—“I’m sure, there is a hell.” “No question, wretch! thy foot is on the door; To be in hell, thou fool! is to be poor. Wilt thou consent?”—But John, with many a sigh, 260 Refused, then sank beneath his stronger eye, Who with a curse dismiss’d the fool that dared Not join a venture which he might have shared. The worthy Clerk then served a man in trade, And was his friend and his companion made— A sickly man, who sundry wares retail’d, Till, while his trade increased, his spirit fail’d. John was to him a treasure, whom he proved, And, finding faithful, as a brother loved. To John his views and business he consign’d, 270 And forward look’d with a contented mind; As sickness bore him onward to the grave, A charge of all things to his friend he gave. But neighbours talk’d—’twas idle—of the day When Richard Shale should walk the dark highway— And whisper’d—tatlers!—that the wife received Such hints with anger, but she nothing grieved. These whispers reach’d the man, who weak, and ill In mind and body, had to make his will; And, though he died in peace, and all resign’d, 280 ’Twas plain he harbour’d fancies in his mind. With jealous foresight, all that he had gain’d His widow’s was, while widow she remain’d;