I saw her speechless; on her wither’d breast The wither’d child extended, but not prest, Who sought, with moving lip and feeble cry, Vain instinct! for the fount without supply. “Sure it was all a grievous, odious scene, } Where all was dismal, melancholy, mean, 840} Foul with compell’d neglect, unwholesome, and unclean; } That arm—that eye—the cold, the sunken cheek— Spoke all, Sir Owen—fiercely miseries speak!”— “And you relieved?”— “If hell’s seducing crew Had seen that sight, they must have pitied too.”— “Revenge was thine—thou hadst the power, the right; To give it up was heaven’s own act to slight.”— “Tell me not, sir, of rights, and wrongs, or powers! I felt it written—Vengeance is not ours!”— “Well, Ellis, well!—I find these female foes, 850 Or good or ill, will murder our repose; And we, when Satan tempts them, take the cup, The fruit of their foul sin, and drink it up; But shall our pity all our claims remit, And we the sinners of their guilt acquit?”— “And what, Sir Owen, will our vengeance do? } It follows us when we our foe pursue, } And, as we strike the blow, it smites the smiters too.”— } “What didst thou, man?”— “I brought them to a cot Behind your larches—a sequester’d spot, 860 Where dwells the woman; I believe her mind Is now enlighten’d—I am sure, resign’d. She gave her infant, though with aching heart And faltering spirit, to be nursed apart.”— “And that vile scoundrel”—— “Nay, his name restore, And call him Cecil,—for he is no more. When my vain help was offer’d, he was past All human aid, and shortly breathed his last; But his heart open’d, and he lived to see Guilt in himself, and find a friend in me. 870 “Strange was their parting—parting on the day I offer’d help, and took the man away, Sure not to meet again, and not to live And taste of joy—He feebly cried, ‘Forgive! I have thy guilt, thou mine, but now adieu! } Tempters and tempted! what will thence ensue } I know not, dare not think!’—He said, and he withdrew.”— } “But, Ellis, tell me, didst thou thus desire To heap upon their heads those coals of fire?”— “If fire to melt, that feeling is confest,— 880 If fire to shame, I let that question rest; But if aught more the sacred words imply, I know it not—no commentator I.”— “Then did you freely from your soul forgive?”— “Sure as I hope before my Judge to live, Sure as I trust his mercy to receive, Sure as his word I honour and believe, Sure as the Saviour died upon the tree } For all who sin,—for that dear wretch and me,— } Whom never more on earth will I forsake or see.” 890} * * * * *