The still Rebecca, who her station knew, With ease resign'd the honours not her due: Well pleased she saw that men her board would grace, And wish'd not there to see a female face; When by her lover she his spouse was styled, Polite she thought it, and demurely smiled; But when he wanted wives and maidens round So to regard her, she grew grave and frown'd; And sometimes whisper'd--"Why should you respect These people's notions, yet their forms reject?" Gwyn, though from marriage bond and fetter free, Still felt abridgment in his liberty; Something of hesitation he betray'd, And in her presence thought of what he said. Thus fair Rebecca, though she walk'd astray, His creed rejecting, judged it right to pray, To be at church, to sit with serious looks, To read her Bible and her Sunday-books: She hated all those new and daring themes, And call'd his free conjectures "devil's dreams:" She honour'd still the priesthood in her fall, And claim'd respect and reverence for them all; Call'd them "of sin's destructive power the foes, And not such blockheads as he might suppose." Gwyn to his friends would smile, and sometimes say, "'Tis a kind fool; why vex her in her way?" Her way she took, and still had more in view, For she contrived that he should take it too. The daring freedom of his soul, 'twas plain, In part was lost in a divided reign; A king and queen, who yet in prudence sway'd Their peaceful state, and were in turn obey'd. Yet such our fate, that when we plan the best, Something arises to disturb our rest: For though in spirits high, in body strong, Gwyn something felt--he knew not what--was wrong, He wish'd to know, for he believed the thing, If unremoved, would other evil bring: "She must perceive, of late he could not eat, And when he walk'd he trembled on his feet: He had forebodings, and he seem'd as one Stopp'd on the road, or threaten'd by a dun; He could not live, and yet, should he apply To those physicians--he must sooner die." The mild Rebecca heard with some disdain, And some distress, her friend and lord complain: His death she fear'd not, but had painful doubt What his distemper'd nerves might bring about; With power like hers she dreaded an ally, And yet there was a person in her eye; - She thought, debated, fix'd--"Alas!" she said, "A case like yours must be no more delay'd; You hate these doctors; well! but were a friend And doctor one, your fears would have an end: My cousin Mollet--Scotland holds him now - Is above all men skilful, all allow; Of late a Doctor, and within a while He means to settle in this favoured isle: Should he attend you, with his skill profound, You must be safe, and shortly would be sound." When men in health against Physicians rail, They should consider that their nerves may fail; Who calls a Lawyer rogue, may find, too late, On one of these depends his whole estate; Nay, when the world can nothing more produce, The Priest, th' insulted priest, may have his use;