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With sunken eye, slow pace, and pallid cheek,
She look'd confusion, and she fear'd to speak.

All this the friend beheld, for, quick of sight,
She knew the husband eager for her flight;
And that by force alone she could retain
The lasting comforts she had hope to gain:
She now perceived, to win her post for life,
She must infuse fresh terrors in the wife;
Must bid to friendship's feebler ties adieu,
And boldly claim the object in her view:
She saw the husband's love, and knew the power
Her friend might use in some propitious hour.

Meantime the anxious wife, from pure distress Assuming courage, said, "I will confess ;" But with her children felt a parent's pride, And sought once more the hated truth to hide. Offended, grieved, impatient, Stafford bore The odious change till he could bear no more; A friend to truth, in speech and action plain, He held all fraud and cunning in disdain; But, fraud to find, and falsehood to detect, For once he fled to measures indirect.

One day the friends were seated in that room The guest with care adorn'd, and named her home: To please the eye, there curious prints were placed,

And some light volumes to amuse the taste;
Letters and music, on a table laid,

The favourite studies of the fair betray'd;
Beneath the window was the toilet spread,
And the fire gleam'd upon a crimson bed.

In Anna's looks and falling tears were seen
How interesting had their subjects been :
"O! then, "resumed the friend, "I plainly find
That you and Stafford know each other's mind;
I must depart, must on the world be thrown,
Like one discarded, worthless, and unknown;
But shall I carry, and to please a foe,
A painful secret in my bosom? No!
Think not your friend a reptile you may tread
Beneath your feet, and say, the worm is dead;
I have some feeling, and will not be made
The scorn of her whom love cannot persuade :
Would not your word, your slightest wish, effect
All that I hope, petition, or expect?

The power you have, but you the use decline-
Proof that you feel not, or you fear not mine.
There was a time, when I, a tender maid,
Flew at a call, and your desires obey'd;
A very mother to the child became,
Consoled your sorrow, and conceal'd your shame;
But now, grown rich and happy, from the door
You thrust a bosom friend, despised and poor;
That child alive, its mother might have known
The hard ungrateful spirit she has shown."

Here paused the guest, and Anna cried
length-

History or tale-all heard him with delight,
And thus was pass'd this memorable night.
The listening friend bestow'd a flattering smile;
A sleeping boy the mother held the while;
And ere she fondly bore him to his bed,

On his fair face the tear of anguish shed.

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And now his task resumed, "My tale," said he,
Is short and sad, short may our sadness be!"
"The Caliph Harun,* as historians tell,

Ruled, for a tyrant, admirably well;
Where his own pleasures were not touch'd, to men
He was humane, and sometimes even then;
Harun was fond of fruits, and gardens fair,
And wo to all whom he found poaching there!
Among his pages was a lively boy,
Eager in search of every trifling joy;
His feelings vivid, and his fancy strong,

He sigh'd for pleasure while he shrank from wrong;
When by the caliph in the garden placed
He saw the treasures which he long'd to taste;
And oft alone he ventured to behold
Rich hanging fruits with rind of glowing gold;
Too long he stayed forbidden bliss to view,
His virtue failing, as his longings grew;
Athirst and wearied with the noontide heat,
Fate to the garden led his luckless feet;
With eager eyes and open mouth he stood,
Smelt the sweet breath, and touch'd the fragrant
food;

The tempting beauty sparkling in the sun
Charm'd his young sense-he ate, and was undone :
When the fond glutton paused, his eyes around
He turn'd, and eyes upon him turning found;
Pleased he beheld the spy, a brother page,
A friend allied in office and in age;
Who promised much that secret he would be,
But high the price he fix'd on secrecy.

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"Were you suspected, my unhappy friend,' Began the boy, where would your sorrows end? In all the palace there is not a page

The caliph would not torture in his rage:

I think I see thee now impaled alive,
Writhing in pangs-but come, my friend! revive;
Had some beheld you, all your purse contains
Could not have saved you from terrific pains;
I scorn such meanness; and, if not in debt,
Would not an asper on your folly set.'

"The hint was strong; young Osmyn search'd
his store

For bribes, and found he soon could bribe no more;
That time arrived, for Osmyn's stock was small,
And the young tyrant now possess'd it all;
The cruel youth, with his companions near,
Gave the broad hint that raised the sudden fear;
Th' ungenerous insult now was daily shown,

at And Osmyn's peace and honest pride were flown;
Then came augmenting woes, and fancy strong.
Drew forms of suffering, a tormenting throng;
He felt degraded, and the struggling mind
Dared not be free, and could not be resign'd;
And all his pains and fervent prayers obtain'd
Was truce from insult, while the fears remain'd.

"You try me, cruel friend! beyond my strength;
Would I had been beside my infant laid,
Where none would vex me, threaten, or upbraid."
In Anna's looks the friend beheld despair;
Her speech she soften'd, and composed her air;
Yet, while professing love, she answered still-
"You can befriend me, but you want the will."
They parted thus, and Anna went her way,
To shed her secret sorrows, and to pray.

Stafford, amused with books, and fond of home, By reading oft dispell'd the evening gloom;

•The sovereign here meant is the Haroun Alraschid, or Harun al Rashid, who died early in the ninth century; he is often the hearer, and sometimes the hero, of a tale in the Arabian Nights' Entertainments.

"One day it chanced that this degraded boy
And tyrant friend were fix'd at their employ:
Who now had thrown restraint and form aside,
And for his bribe in plainer speech applied:
'Long have I waited, and the last supply
Was but a pittance, yet how patient I!

But give me now what thy first terrors gave,
My speech shall praise thee, and my silence
save.'

"Osmyn had found, in many a dreadful day,
The tyrant fiercer when he seem'd in play :
He begg'd forbearance; 'I have not to give;
Spare me a while, although 'tis pain to live:
O! had that stolen fruit the power possess'd
To war with life, I now had been at rest.'

"So fond of death,' replied the boy, ''tis plain
Thou hast no certain notion of the pain;
But to the caliph were a secret shown,

Death has no pain that would be then unknown.' 'Now, says the story, in a closet near,

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The monarch, seated, chanced the boys to hear;
There oft he came, when wearied on his throne,
To read, sleep, listen, pray, or be alone.

64

The tale proceeds, when first the caliph
found

That he was robb'd, although alone, he frown'd:
And swore in wrath, that he would send the boy
Far from his notice, favour, or employ;
But gentler movements soothed his ruffled mind,
And his own failings taught him to be kind.

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Relenting thoughts then painted Osmyn young,
His passion urgent, and temptation strong;
And that he suffer'd from that villain spy
Pains worse than death till he desired to die;
Then if his morals had received a stain,
His bitter sorrows made him pure again:
To Reason, Pity lent her generous aid,
For one so tempted, troubled, and betray'd;
And a free pardon the glad boy restored
To the kind presence of a gentle lord;
Who from his office and his country drove

Quick she retired, and all the dismal night
Thought of her guilt, her folly, and her flight;
Then sought unseen her miserable home,

To think of comforts lost, and brood on wants to

come.

TALE XVII.

RESENTMENT.

She hath a tear for pity, and a hand

Open as day for melting charity;
Yet, notwithstanding, being incensed, is flint
Her temper, therefore, must be well observ'd.
Henry IV. Part. i. act iv. sc. 4.

-Three or four wenches where I stood cried-
"Alas! good soul!" and forgave him with all their
hearts: but there is no heed to be taken of them; if
Cæsar had stabb'd their mothers, they would have done
no less.
Julius Cæsar, act i. sc. 2.

How dost? Art cold?

I'm cold myself-Where is the straw, my fellow?
The art of our necessities is strange,
That can make vile things precious.

King Lear, act iii. sc. 2
FEMALES there are of unsuspicious mind,
Easy and soft, and credulous and kind;
Who, when offended for the twentieth time,
Will hear th' offender and forgive the crime:
And there are others whom like these to cheat,
Asks but the humblest effort of deceit ;
But they, once injured, feel a strong disdain,
And, seldom pardoning, never trust again;
Urged by religion, they forgive--but yet
Guard the warm heart, and never more forget:
Those are like wax-apply them to the fire,
Melting, they take th' impressions you desire;
Easy to mould, and fashion as you please,
And again moulded with an equal ease :-

That traitor friend, whom pains nor prayers could Like smelted iron these the forms retain,

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But once impress'd will never melt again.
A busy port a serious merchant made
His chosen place to recommence his trade;
And brought his lady, who, their children dead,
Their native seat of recent sorrow fled:
The husband duly on the quay was seen,
The wife at home became at length serene;
There in short time the social couple grew
With all acquainted, friendly with a few:
When the good lady, by disease assail'd,
In vain resisted-hope and science fail'd:
Then spake the female friends, by pity led,

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Poor merchant Paul! what think ye? will he wed?

A quiet, easy, kind, religious man,

Thus can he rest?-I wonder if he can.”

He too, as grief subsided in his mind,
Gave place to notions of congenial kind:

He paused, he rose; with troubled joy the wife Grave was the man, as we have told before;

Felt the new era of her changeful life;
Frankness and love appear'd in Stafford's face,
And all her trouble to delight give place.
Twice made the guest an effort to sustain
Her feelings, twice resumed her seat in vain,
Nor could suppress her shame, nor could support
her pain:

His years were forty-he might pass for more;
Composed his features were, his stature low,
His air important, and his motion slow;
His dress became him, it was neat and plain,
The colour purple, and without a stain;
His words were few, and special was his care
In simplest terms his purpose to declare;

A man more civil, sober, and discreet,

More grave and courteous, you could seldom meet:
Though frugal he, yet sumptuous was his board,
As if to prove how much he could afford;
For though reserved himself, he loved to see
His table plenteous, and his neighbours free :
Among these friends he sat in solemn style,
And rarely soften'd to a sober smile;

For this observant friends their reasons gave-
"Concerns so vast would make the idlest grave:
And for such man to be of language free,
Would seem incongruous as a singing tree:
Trees have their music, but the birds they shield
1 he pleasing tribute for protection yield;
Each ample tree the tuneful choir defends,
As this rich merchant cheers his happy friends!"
In the same town it was his chance to meet
A gentle lady, with a mind discreet;
Neither in life's decline, nor bloom of youth,
One famed for maiden modesty and truth:
By nature cool, in pious habits bred,
She look'd on lovers with a virgin's dread :
Deceivers, rakes, and libertines were they,
And harmless beauty their pursuit and prey;
As bad as giants in the ancient times

Were modern lovers, and the same their crimes :
Soon as she heard of her all-conquering charms,
At once she fled to her defensive arms;

Conn'd o'er the tales her maiden aunt had told,
And statue-like, was motionlike and cold;
From prayer of love, like that Pygmalion pray'd,
Ere the hard stone became the yielding maid-
A different change in this chaste nymph ensued,
And turn'd to stone the breathing flesh and blood:
Whatever youth described his wounded heart,
"He came to rob her, and she scorn'd his art;
And who of raptures once presumed to speak,
Told listening maids he thought them fond and
weak:

But should a worthy man his hopes display
In few plain words, and beg a yes or nay,
He would deserve an answer just and plain,
Since adulation only moved disdain-
Sir, if my friends object not, come again."

Hence our brave lover, though he liked the face,
Praised not a feature-dwelt not on a grace;
But in the simplest terms declared his state,
"A widow'd man, who wish'd a virtuous mate;
Who fear'd neglect, and was compell'd to trust
Dependants wasteful, idle, or unjust;
Or should they not the trusted stores destroy,
At best, they could not help him to enjoy,
But with her person and her prudence blest,
His acts would prosper, and his soul have rest :
Would she be his ?"—" Why that was much to say;
She would consider: he a while might stay;
She liked his manners, and believed his word;
He did not flatter, flattery she abhorr'd:
It was her happy lot in peace to dwell-
Would change make better what was now so well?
But she would ponder.”—“This,” he said, “ was
kind,"

And begg'd to know "when she had fix'd her mind."

Romantic maidens would have scorn'd the air, And the cool prudence of a mind so fair; But well it pleased this wiser maid to find Her own mild virtues in her lover's mind.

His worldly wealth she sought, and quickly grew

Pleased with her search, and happy in the view Of vessels freighted with abundant stores,

Of rooms whose treasures press'd the groaning floors;

And he of clerks and servants could display
A little army, on a public day.
Was this a man like needy bard to speak
Of balmy lip, bright eye, or rosy cheek?

The sum appointed for her widow'd state,
Fix'd by her friend, excited no debate ;
Then the kind lady gave her hand and heart,
And, never finding, never dealt with art:
In his engagements she had no concern;
He taught her not, nor had she wish to learn:
On him in all occasions she relied,

His word her surety, and his worth her pride. When ship was launch'd, and merchant Paul had share,

A bounteous feast became the lady's care;
Who then her entry to the dinner made,
In costly raiment, and with kind parade.
Call'd by this duty on a certain day,
And robed to grace it in a rich array,
Forth from her room with measured step she

came,

Proud of th' event, and stately look'd the dame : The husband met her at his study-door

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This way, my love-one moment and no more:
A trifling business-you will understand,
The law requires that you affix your hand;
But first attend, and you shall learn the cause
Why forms like these have been prescribed by
laws."

Then from his chair a man in black arose,
And with much quickness hurried off his prose :
That " Ellen Paul the wife, and so forth, freed
From all control, her own the act and deed,
And forasmuch"-said she, "I've no distrust,
For he that asks it is discreet and just;
Our friends are waiting-where am I to sign?
There!--Now be ready when we meet to
dine."

This said, she hurried off in great delight,
The ship was launch'd, and joyful was the night.
Now, says the reader, and in much disdain,
This serious merchant was a rogue in grain;
A treacherous wretch, an artful, sober knave,
And ten times worse for manners cool and grave,
And she devoid of sense, to set her hand
To scoundrel deeds she could not understand.
Alas! 'tis true; and I in vain had tried
To soften crime, that cannot be denied ;
And might have labour'd many a tedious verse
The latent cause of mischief to rehearse :
Be it confess'd, that long, with troubled look,
This trader view'd a huge accompting book
(His former marriage for a time delay'd
The dreaded hour, the present lent its aid ;)
But he too clearly saw the evil day,
And put the terror, by deceit, away;
Thus by connecting with his sorrows crime,
He gain'd a portion of uneasy time.-
All this too late the injured lady saw,
What love had given, again she gave to law;
His guilt, her folly-these at once impress'd
Their lasting feelings on her guileless breast.

"Shame I can bear," she cried, " and want sus- Assured that law, with spell secure and tight,

tain,

But will not see this guilty wretch again;"

For all was lost, and he, with many a tear, Confess'd the fault-she turning scorn'd to hear. To legal claim he yielded all his worth,

Had fix'd it as her own peculiar right.

Now to her ancient residence removed, She lived as widow, well endow'd and loved, Decent her table was, and to her door Came daily welcomed the neglected poor:

But small the portion, and the wrong'd were wroth, The absent sick were soothed by her relief,
Nor to their debtor would a part allow;

And where to live he knew not-knew not how.
The wife a cottage found, and thither went
The suppliant man, but she would not relent:
Thenceforth she utter'd with indignant tone,
"I feel the misery, and will feel alone."
He would turn servant for her sake, would keep
The poorest school; the very streets would sweep,
To show his love." It was already shown:
And her affliction should be all her own.

As her free bounty sought the haunts of grief;

A plain and homely charity had she,

And loved the objects of her alms to see;
With her own hands she dress'd the savoury meat,
With her own fingers wrote the choice receipt;
She heard all tales that injured wives relate,
And took a double interest in their fate;
But of all husbands not a wretch was known
So vile, so mean, so cruel as her own.
This bounteous lady kept an active spy,

His wants and weakness might have touch'd her To search th' abodes of want, and to supply;

heart,

But from his meanness she resolved to part."
In a small alley was she lodged, beside
Its humblest poor, and at the view she cried,
"Welcome-yes! let me welcome, if I can,
The fortune dealt me by this cruel man ;
Welcome this low thatch'd roof, this shatter'd
door,

These walls of clay, this miserable floor;
Welcome, my envied neighbours; this, to you,
Is all familiar-all to me is new;

You have no hatred to the loathsome meal;
Your firmer nerves no trembling terrors feel,
Nor, what you must expose, desire you to conceal;
What your coarse feelings bear without offence,
Disgusts my taste, and poisons every sense:
Daily shall I your sad relations hear,
Of wanton women, and of men severe;
There will dire curses, dreadful oaths abound,
And vile expressions shock me and confound;
Noise of dull wheels, and songs with horrid words,
Will be the music that this lane affords ;
Mirth that disgusts, and quarrels that degrade
The human mind, must my retreat invade :
Hard is my fate! yet easier to sustain
Than to abide with guilt and fraud again;
A grave impostor! who expects to meet,
In such gray locks and gravity, deceit ?
Where the sea rages, and the billows roar,
Men know the danger, and they quit the shore ;
But, be there nothing in the way descried,
When o'er the rocks smooth runs the wicked tide,
Sinking unwarn'd, they execrate the shock,
And the dread peril of the sunken rock."

A frowning world had now the man to dread,
Taught in no arts, to no profession bred;
Pining in grief, beset with constant care,
Wandering he went, to rest he knew not where.
Meantime the wife-but she abjured the name
Endured her lot, and struggled with the shame;
When lo! an uncle on the mother's side,
In nature something, as in blood allied,
Admired her firmness, his protection gave,
And show'd a kindness she disdain'd to crave.
Frugal and rich the man, and frugal grew
The sister mind, without a selfish view;
And further still; the temperate pair agreed
With what they saved the patient poor to feed:
His whole estate, when to the grave consign'd,
Left the good kinsman to the kindred mind;

The gentle Susan served the liberal dame-
Unlike their notions, yet their deeds the same:
No practised villain could a victim find
Than this stern lady more completely blind;
Nor (if detected in his fraud) could meet
One less disposed to pardon a deceit ;
The wrong she treasured, and on no pretence
Received th' offender, or forgot th' offence:
But the kind servant, to the thrice-proved knave
A fourth time listen'd, and the past forgave.

First in her youth, when she was blithe and gay, Came a smooth rogue, and stole her love away; Then to another and another flew,

To boast the wanton mischief he could do:
Yet she forgave him, though so great her pain,
That she was never blithe or gay again.

Then came a spoiler, who, with villain art,
Implored her hand, and agonized her heart;
He seized her purse, in idle waste to spend
With a vile wanton, whom she call'd her friend;
Five years she suffer'd-he had revell'd five—
Then came to show her he was just alive;
Alone he came, his vile companion dead;
And he, a wandering pauper, wanting bread;
His body wasted, wither'd life and limb,
When this kind soul became a slave to him:
Nay, she was sure that, should he now survive,
No better husband would be left alive;
For him she mourn'd, and then, alone and poor,
Sought and found comfort at her lady's door:
Ten years she served, and, mercy her employ,
Her tasks were pleasure, and her duty joy.

Thus lived the mistress and the maid, design'd Each other's aid-one cautious, and both kind: Oft at their window, working, they would sigh To see the aged and the sick go by; Like wounded bees, that at their home arrive, Slowly and weak, but labouring for the hive.

The busy people of a mason's yard The curious lady view'd with much regard; With steady motion she perceived them draw Through blocks of stone the slowly-working saw ; It gave her pleasure and surprise to see Among these men the signs of revelry: Cold was the season, and confined their view, Tedious their tasks, but merry were the crew; There she beheld an aged pauper wait, Patient and still, to take an humble freight; Within the panniers on an ass he laid The ponderous grit, and for the portion paid

TALES.

This he resold, and, with each trifling gift,
Made shift to live, and wretched was the shift.
Nor will it be by every reader told
Who was this humble trader, poor and old.
In vain an author would a name suppress,
From the least hint a reader learns to guess;
Of children lost our novels sometimes treat,
We never care-assured again to meet :
In vain the writer for concealment tries,
We trace his purpose under all disguise;
Nay, though he tells us they are dead and gone,
Of whom we wot-they will appear anon;
Our favourites fight, are wounded, hopeless lie,
Survive they cannot-nay, they cannot die;
Now, as these tricks and stratagems are known,
"Tis best, at once, the simple truth to own.

This was the husband; in an humble shed
He nightly slept, and daily sought his bread:
Once for relief the weary man applied;

44

Your wife is rich," the angry vestry cried:
Alas! he dared not to his wife complain,
Feeling her wrongs, and fearing her disdain:
By various methods he had tried to live,
But not one effort would subsistence give:
He was an usher in a school, till noise
Made him less able than the weaker boys;
On messages he went, till he in vain
Strove names, or words, or meanings to retain ;
Each small employment in each neighbouring town
By turn he took, to lay as quickly down:
For, such his fate, he fail'd in all he plann'd,
And nothing prosper'd in his luckless hand.
At his old home, his motive half suppress'd,
He sought no more for riches, but for rest:
There lived the bounteous wife, and at her gate
He saw in cheerful groups the needy wait;

64

Had he a right with bolder hope t' apply ?"

He ask'd, was answer'd, and went groaning by :
For some remains of spirit, temper, pride,
Forbade a prayer he knew would be denied.
Thus was the grieving man, with burden'd ass,
Seen day by day along the street to pass :
"Who is he, Susan? who the poor old man?
He never calls; do make him, if you can."
The conscious damsel still delay'd to speak,
She stopp'd confused, and had her words to seek;
From Susan's fears the fact her mistress knew,
And cried-" The wretch! what scheme has he
in view?

Is this his lot?—but let him, let him feel-
Who wants the courage, not the will to steal."

A dreadful winter came, each day severe,
Misty when mild, and icy cold when clear;
And still the humble dealer took his load,
Returning slow, and shivering on the road :
The lady, still relentless, saw him come,
And said, "I wonder, has the wretch a home ?"-
"A hut! a hovel !"-" Then his fate appears
To suit his crime."-" Yes, lady, not his years ;—
No! nor his sufferings, nor that form decay'd."-
"Well! let the parish give its paupers aid;
You must the vileness of his acts allow."-
“And you, dear lady, that he feels it now."-
"When such dissemblers on their deeds reflect,
Can they the pity they refused expect?
He that doth evil, evil shall he dread."-
"The snow," quoth Susan, "falls upon his bed-

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But look, (God bless him!) how he gropes along."-
'Brought me to shame."-"O! yes, I know it
all;

What cutting blast! and he can scarcely crawl;
He freezes as he moves; he dies! if he should fall.
With cruel fierceness drives this icy sleet,
And must a Christian perish in the street,

In sight of Christians ?-There! at last, he lies;—
Nor unsupported can he ever rise:

He cannot live."-" But is he fit to die?"-
Here Susan softly mutter'd a reply,
Look'd round the room, said something of its
state,

Dives the rich, and Lazarus at his gate;
And then aloud-" In pity do behold
The man affrighten'd, weeping, trembling, cold:
O! how those flakes of snow their entrance win
Through the poor rags, and keep the frost within;
His very heart seems frozen as he goes,
Leading that starved companion of his woes :
He tried to pray-his lips, I saw them move,
And he so turn'd his piteous looks above;
But the fierce wind the willing heart opposed,
And, ere he spoke, the lips in misery closed:
Poor suffering object! yes, for ease you pray'd,
And God will hear-he only, I'm afraid."

"Peace! Susan, peace! Pain ever follows sin." -"Ah! then," thought Susan, "when will ours begin?

When reach'd his home, to what a cheerless fire
And chilling bed will those cold limbs retire!
Yet ragged, wretched as it is, that bed
Takes half the space of his contracted shed;
I saw the thorns beside the narrow grate,
With straw collected in a putrid state :
There will he, kneeling, strive the fire to raise,
And that will warm him, rather than the blaze;
The sullen, smoky blaze, that cannot last
One moment after his attempt is past :
And I so warmly and so purely laid,

To sink to rest—indeed, I am afraid.”—

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Know you his conduct?"-"Yes, indeed, I
know-

And how he wanders in the wind and snow:
Safe in our rooms the threatening storm we hear,
But he feels strongly what we faintly fear."-
"Wilful was rich, and he the storm defied,
Wilful is poor, and must the storm abide;"
Said the stern lady-" "Tis in vain to feel;
Go and prepare the chicken for our meal."
Susan her task reluctantly began,

And utter'd as she went-" The poor old man!”
But while her soft and ever-yielding heart
Made strong protest against her lady's part,
The lady's self began to think it wrong
To feel so wrathful and resent so long.

"No more the wretch would she receive
again,

It blows beside the thatch-it melts upon his head." No more behold him-but she would sustain ;

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