It was her business to decide, not theirs.— Adieu! then, sir,” she added; “thus you find } The changeless purpose of a steady mind, } In one now left alone, but to her fate resign’d.” } The marriage follow’d; and th’ experienced dame Consider’d what the conduct that became A thrice-devoted lady—She confess’d That when indulged she was but more distress’d; And, by her second husband when controll’d, 450 Her life was pleasant, though her love was cold; “Then let me yield,” she said, and with a sigh, “Let me to wrong submit, with right comply.” Alas! obedience may mistake, and they Who reason not will err when they obey; And fated was the gentle dame to find Her duty wrong, and her obedience blind. The man was kind, but would have no dispute, His love and kindness both were absolute. She needed not her wishes to express 460 To one who urged her on to happiness; For this he took her to the lakes and seas, } To mines and mountains, nor allow’d her ease; } She must be pleased, he said, and he must live to please. } He hurried north and south, and east and west, When age required they would have time to rest; He in the richest dress her form array’d, And cared not what he promised, what he paid; She should share all his pleasures as her own, And see whatever could be sought or shown. 470 This run of pleasure for a time she bore, And then affirm’d that she could taste no more; She loved it while its nature it retain’d, But, made a duty, it displeased and pain’d. “Have we not means?” the joyous husband cried; “But I am wearied out,” the wife replied. “Wearied with pleasure! Thing till now unheard— Are all that sweeten trouble to be fear’d? ’Tis but the sameness tires you—cross the seas, And let us taste the world’s varieties. 480 “’Tis said, in Paris that a man may live In all the luxuries a world can give; And in a space confined to narrow bound All the enjoyments of our life are found. There we may eat and drink, may dance and dress, And in its very essence joy possess; May see a moving crowd of lovely dames; May win a fortune at your favourite games; May hear the sounds that ravish human sense, And all without receding foot from thence.” 490 The conquer’d wife, resistless and afraid, To the strong call a sad obedience paid. As we an infant in its pain with sweets, Loved once, now loath’d, torment him till he eats, Who on the authors of his new distress Looks trembling with disgusted weariness: So Harriet felt, so look’d, and seem’d to say, “O! for a day of rest, an holiday!” At length, her courage rising with her fear, She said, “Our pleasures may be bought too dear!” 500 To this he answer’d—“Dearest! from thy heart Bid every fear of evil times depart; I ever trusted in the trying hour To my good stars, and felt the ruling power;