As the waiting-gentlewoman retired to perform the penance, Lady Bellingham commanded her to leave the paper that she might destroy it. But though the word Love was dangerous to a tyro in Antinomianism, the situation of the initiated is very different; to the former all things are sinful, but the latter being free from the law, and above ordinances, have a large licence. Valuing herself now only on her spiritual graces, Lady Bellingham opened the profane legend, which, she expected, described personal attractions; and to her astonishment recognized the writing of her son, of whom she had heard no certain tidings since the battle of Preston, but who was supposed, both by Cromwell and herself, to be in the north of Ireland, where an officer of the same name had gained celebrity. The date proved that he had been a resident in Dr. Beaumont's family; no name was prefixed, but the lines breathed a permanent attachment, to which, after some resistance, he had entirely surrendered his heart. O place thy breast against a turbid stream, Beat with strong arm the flood, and tread the wave, Or toil incessant 'neath the burning beam, When, like a giant woke from wassail-dream, Sol rushes furious from the lion's cave: Then mayst thou know how hard to stem the tide Of chaste desire, and love's o'erwhelming storm, When by entranc'd affection first descry'd, Beauty and truth, such as in Heaven reside, Appear on earth in woman's lovely form. Is there a charm in wisdom? Is there power In blushing modesty's retiring air? Looks patience lovely in affliction's hour? Is not humility a priceless flower? And filial piety divinely fair? And bloom such graces in this narrow dell, Bosom'd in hills, from civil discord far; Then, courts and camps, glory and wealth farewell! All-powerful love hath broke ambition's spell, And freed a captive from his iron car.