Beside to think," said he, "is not to sin." "Mistaken man!" replied the power within. No guest unnoticed to the lady came, He judged th' event with mingled joy and shame; Oft he withdrew, and seem'd to leave her free, But still as watchful as a lynx was he; Meanwhile the wife was thoughtless, cool, and gay, And, without virtue, had no wish to stray. Though thus opposed, his plans were not resign'd; "Revenge," said he, "will prompt that daring mind; Refused supplies, insulted and distress'd, Enraged with me, and near a favourite guest - Then will her vengeance prompt the daring deed, And I shall watch, detect her, and be freed." There was a youth--but let me hide the name, With all the progress of this deed of shame; He had his views--on him the husband cast His net, and saw him in his trammels fast. "Pause but a moment--think what you intend," Said the roused Sleeper: "I am yet a friend. Must all our days in enmity be spent?" "No!" and he paused--"I surely shall repent:" Then hurried on--the evil plan was laid, The wife was guilty, and her friend betray'd, And Fulham gain'd his wish, and for his will was paid. Had crimes less weighty on the spirit press'd, This troubled Conscience might have sunk to rest; And, like a foolish guard, been bribed to peace, By a false promise, that offence should cease; Past faults had seem'd familiar to the view, Confused if many, and obscure though true; And Conscience, troubled with the dull account, Had dropp'd her tale, and slumber'd o'er th' amount: But, struck by daring guilt, alert she rose, Disturb'd, alarm'd, and could no more repose: All hopes of friendship and of peace were past, And every view with gloom was overcast. Hence from that day, that day of shame and sin, Arose the restless enmity within: On no resource could Fulham now rely, Doom'd all expedients, and in vain, to try; For Conscience, roused, sat boldly on her throne, Watch'd every thought, attack'd the foe alone, And with envenom'd sting drew forth the inward groan: Expedients fail'd that brought relief before, In vain his alms gave comfort to the poor, Give what he would, to him the comfort came no more: Not prayer avail'd, and when (his crimes confess'd) He felt some ease, she said, "Are they redress'd? You still retain the profit, and be sure, Long as it lasts, this anguish shall endure." Fulham still tried to soothe her, cheat, mislead, But Conscience laid her finger on the deed, And read the crime with power, and all that must succeed: He tried t'expel her, but was sure to find Her strength increased by all that he design'd; Nor ever was his groan more loud and deep Than when refresh'd she rose from momentary sleep. Now desperate grown, weak, harass'd, and afraid, From new allies he sought for doubtful aid; To thought itself he strove to bid adieu, And from devotions to diversions flew; He took a poor domestic for a slave (Though avarice grieved to see the price he gave); Upon his board, once frugal, press'd a load