The sovereign impulse of your will obey’d. 310 What, to your thinking, was the world’s disdain? You could retort its insolence again. Your boundless passion boldly you avow’d, And spoke the purpose of your soul aloud; Associates, servants, friends, alike can prove The world-defying force of Celia’s love. Did she not wish, nay vow, to poison her Whom, some durst whisper, Damon could prefer? And then that frantic quarrel at the ball— It must be known, and he will hear it all. 320 Nay! never frown, but cast about, in time, How best to answer what he thinks a crime; For what he thinks might have but little weight, If you could answer— _C._ Then I’ll answer straight— Not without Truth; for who would vainly tell A wretched lie, when Truth might serve as well? Had I not Fever? is not that the bane Of human wisdom? was I not insane? “Oh! Charles, no more! would you recall the day When it pleased Fate to take my wits away? 330 How can I answer for a thousand things That this disorder to the sufferer brings? Is it not known, the men whom you dislike Are those who now the erring fancy strike? Nor would it much surprise me, if ’twere true, That in those days of dread I slighted you. When the poor mind, illumined by no spark Of reason’s light, was wandering in the dark, You must not wonder, if the vilest train Of evil thoughts were printed on the brain; 340 Nor, if the loyal and the faithful prove False to their king, and faithless to their love.”— Your thoughts on this? _D._ With some you may succeed By such bold strokes; but they must love indeed. _C._ Doubt you his passion?— _D._ But in five long years The passion settles—then the reason clears. Turbid is love, and to ferment inclined, But by and by grows sober and refined, And peers for facts; but, if one can’t rely On truth, one takes one’s chance—you can but try. 350 Yet once again I must attention ask To a new Charge, and then resign my task. I would not hurt you; but confess at least That you were partial to that handsome Priest; Say what they will of his religious mind, He was warm-hearted, and to ladies kind. Now, with his reverence you were daily seen, When it was winter and the weather keen, Traced to the mountains when the winds were strong, And roughly bore you, arm in arm, along— 360 That wintry wind, inspired by love or zeal, You were too faithful or too fond to feel, Shielded from inward and from outward harm By the strong spirit, and the fleshly arm— The winter-garden you could both admire, And leave his sisters at the parlour fire; You trusted not your speech these dames among— Better the teeth should chatter, than the tongue! Did not your father stop the pure delight Of this perambulating Love at night? 370 It is reported, that his craft contrived