Upon that breast, by sordid rags defiled, Lay the wan features of a famish’d child;— That sin-born babe in utter misery laid, Too feebly wretched even to cry for aid; The ragged sheeting, o’er her person drawn, Served for the dress that hunger placed in pawn. “At the bed’s feet the man reclined his frame; Their chairs were perish’d to support the flame 780 That warm’d his agued limbs, and, sad to see, That shook him fiercely as he gazed on me. “I was confused in this unhappy view: My wife! my friend! I could not think it true; My children’s mother—my Alicia—laid On such a bed! so wretched—so afraid! And her gay, young seducer, in the guise Of all we dread, abjure, defy, despise, And all the fear and terror in his look, Still more my mind to its foundation shook. 790 At last he spoke:—‘Long since I would have died, } But could not leave her, though for death I sigh’d, } And tried the poison’d cup, and dropt it as I tried. } “‘She is a woman, and that famish’d thing Makes her to life, with all its evils, cling; Feed her, and let her breathe her last in peace, And all my sufferings with your promise cease!’ “Ghastly he smiled;—I knew not what I felt, But my heart melted—hearts of flint would melt, To see their anguish, penury, and shame, 800 How base, how low, how groveling they became. I could not speak my purpose, but my eyes And my expression bade the creature rise. “Yet, O! that woman’s look! my words are vain Her mix’d and troubled feelings to explain; True, there was shame and consciousness of fall, } But yet remembrance of my love withal, } And knowledge of that power which she would now recal. } “But still the more that she to memory brought, The greater anguish in my mind was wrought; 810 The more she tried to bring the past in view, She greater horror on the present threw; So that, for love or pity, terror thrill’d My blood, and vile and odious thoughts instill’d. “This war within, these passions in their strife, If thus protracted, had exhausted life; But the strong view of these departed years Caused a full burst of salutary tears; And, as I wept at large, and thought alone, I felt my reason re-ascend her throne.” 820 “My friend!” Sir Owen answer’d, “what became Of your just anger?—when you saw their shame, It was your triumph, and you should have shown Strength, if not joy—their sufferings were their own.”— “Alas, for them! their own in very deed! And they of mercy had the greater need; Their own by purchase, for their frailty paid— And wanted heaven’s own justice human aid? And seeing this, could I beseech my God For deeper misery, and a heavier rod?” 830 “But could you help them?”—“Think, Sir Owen, how I saw them then—methinks I see them now! She had not food, nor aught a mother needs, Who for another life and dearer feeds.