In all things seek to please him, for by increasing his felicity thou wilt increase thine own. Give way to his voice, and never let it be asked, Which of us twain shall yield? Boast not of thy perfections in his hearing, for if he truly love thee, he will be the first to discover them, and if, which God avert! his affection decrease, vanity will but give birth to disgust, and self-importance to neglect. Behold his faults with compassion, and conceal them from the eyes of thy neighbour. Refrain from frequent weeping; for when thy tears have lost their power, and flow unheeded, then hast thou lost the love of thy husband. But, above all, oh! above all, let thy mind be as open as thy hand, do nothing without his knowledge: deceive him not: Oh! never deceive him; never let even thy best intentions betray thee to act unknown to him. Go hand in hand through life, and neither strive to linger behind nor gain upon his steps. ❦ [Sidenote: The Mansion of Rest.] I talk’d to my flattering heart And chid its wild wandering ways; I charg’d it from folly to part, And to husband the rest of its days. I bade it no longer admire The meteors that fancy had drest: I whisper’d ’twas time to retire, And seek for a Mansion of Rest. A charmer was list’ning the while, Who caught up the tone of my lay; “O come then,” she cried with a smile, “And I’ll show you the place and the way.” I followed the witch to her home, And vow’d to be always her guest: “Never more,” I exclaim’d, “will I roam In search of the Mansion of Rest.” But the sweetest of moments will fly; Not long was my fancy beguiled; For too soon I confess’d with a sigh, That the syren deceived while she smiled. Deep, deep, did she stab the repose Of my trusting and unwary breast; And the door of each avenue close, That led to the Mansion of Rest. Then Friendship enticed me to stray Through the long magic wilds of romance; But I found she meant to betray, And shrunk from the sorcerer’s glance. For experience had taught me to know, That the soul that reclined on her breast Might toss on the billows of woe, And ne’er find the Mansion of Rest. Pleasure’s path I determined to try, But Prudence I met in the way: Conviction flash’d light from her eye, And appear’d to illumine my day. She cried, as she showed me a grave, With nettles and wild flowers dress’d, On which the dark cypress did wave, “Behold then the Mansion of Rest.” She spoke, and half vanish’d in air, For she saw mild Religion appear With a smile that would banish despair And dry up the penitent tear: Doubts and fears from my bosom were driven; And pressing the cross to her breast, And pointing serenely to heaven, She showed me the Mansion of Rest. ❦ [Sidenote: National Taciturnity.]