"Should her Eliza-no! she was too just,

Too good and kind-but ah! too young to trust."
Anna return'd, her former place resumed,
And faded beauty with new grace rebloom'd;
And if some whispers of the past were heard,
They died innoxious, as no cause appear'd;
But other cares on Anna's bosom press'd,
She saw her father gloomy and distress'd;

"I must," she judged, "these cruel lines expose,
Or fears, or worse than fears, my crime disclose."

The letter shown, he said, with sober smile,
"Anna, your friend has not a friendly style:
Say, where could you with this fair lady dwell,
Who boasts of secrets that she scorns to tell?"

"At school," she answer'd: he "At school!" replied;

Nay, then I know the secrets you would hide :

He died o'erwhelm'd with debt, and soon was Some longings these, without dispute,

shed

The filial sorrow o'er a mother dead:

Some youthful gaspings for forbidden fruit:
Why so disorder'd, love? are such the crimes

She sought Eliza's arms, that faithful friend was That give us sorrow in our graver times?

wed;

Then was compassion by the countess shown,
And all th' adventures of her life are known.

And now beyond her hopes-no longer tried
By slavish awe-she lived a yeoman's bride;
Then bless'd her lot, and with a grateful mind
Was careful, cheerful, vigilant, and kind;
The gentle husband felt supreme delight,
Bless'd by her joy, and happy in her sight;
He saw with pride in every friend and guest
High admiration and regard express'd :
With greater pride, and with superior joy,
He look'd exulting on his first-born boy;
To her fond breast the wife her infant strain'd,
Some feelings utter'd, some were not explain'd;
And she enraptured with her treasure grew,
The sight familiar, but the pleasure new.

Yet there appear'd within that tranquil state
Some threatening prospect of uncertain fate;
Between the married when a secret lies,
It wakes suspicion from enforced disguise :
Still thought the wife upon her absent friend,
With all that must upon her truth depend;
'There is no being in the world beside,
Who can discover what that friend will hide;
Who knew the fact, knew not my name or state,
Who these can tell cannot the fact relate;
But thou, Eliza, canst the whole impart,
And all my safety is thy generous heart."

Mix'd with these fears-but light and transient
these-

Fled years of peace, prosperity, and ease:
So tranquil all, that scarce a gloomy day
For days of gloom unmix'd prepared the way;
One eve, the wife, still happy in her state,
Sang gayly, thoughtless of approaching fate:
Then came a letter, that (received in dread,
Not unobserved) she in confusion read;

The substance this; "Her friend rejoiced to find
That she had riches with a grateful mind;
While poor Eliza had from place to place
Been lured by hope to labour for disgrace;
That every scheme her wandering husband tried,
Pain'd while he lived, and perish'd when he died."
She then of want in angry style complain'd,
Her child a burden to her life remain'd,
Her kindred shunn'd her prayers, no friend her
soul sustain'd.

"Yet why neglected? Dearest Anna knew
Her worth once tried, her friendship ever true;
She hoped, she trusted, though by wants oppress'd,
To lock the treasured secret in her breast;
Yet, vex'd by trouble, must apply to one,
For kindness due to her for kindness done."
In Anna's mind was tumult, in her face
Flushings of dread had momentary place:

Come, take a present for your friend, and rest
In perfect peace—you find you are confess'd."
This cloud, though past, alarm'd the conscious
wife,

Presaging gloom and sorrow for her life;
Who to her answer join'd a fervent prayer,
That her Eliza would a sister spare:

If she again-but was there cause?-should send,
Let her direct-and then she named a friend:
A sad expedient untried friends to trust,
And still to fear the tried may be unjust:
Such is his pain, who, by his debt oppress'd,
Seeks by new bonds a temporary rest.

Few were her peaceful days till Anna read
The words she dreaded, and had cause to dread :-
Did she believe, did she, unkind, suppose
That thus Eliza's friendship was to close?
No! though she tried, and her desire was plain,
To break the friendly bond, she strove in vain :
Ask'd she for silence? why so loud the call,
And yet the token of her love so small?
By means like these will you attempt to bind
And check the movements of an injured mind?
Poor as I am. I shall be proud to show
What dangerous secrets I may safely know:
Secrets to men of jealous minds convey'd,
Have many a noble house in ruins laid :
Anna, trust, although with wrongs beset,
And urged by want, I shall be faithful yet;
| But what temptation may from these arise,
To take a slighted woman by surprise,
Becomes a subject for your serious care-
For who offends, must for offence prepare."
Perplex'd, dismay'd, the wife foresaw her dooin;
A day deferr'd was yet a day to come;
But still, though painful her suspended state,
She dreaded more the crisis of her fate;
Better to die than Stafford's scorn to meet,
And her strange friend perhaps would be discreet:
Presents she sent, and made a strong appeal
To woman's feelings, begging her to feel;
With too much force she wrote of jealous men,
And her tears falling spoke beyond the pen;
Eliza's silence she again implored,
And promised all that prudence could afford.

For looks composed and careless Anna tried;
She seem'd in trouble, and unconscious sigh'd :
The faithful husband, who devoutly loved
His silent partner, with concern reproved:
"What secret sorrows on my Anna press,
That love may not partake, nor care redress?"
None, none," she answer'd, with a look so
kind,

That the fond man determined to be blind.
A few succeeding weeks of brief repose,
In Anna's cheek revived the faded rose;

M

Not long they lasted--this determined foe
Knew all her claims, and nothing would forego;
Again her letter came, where Anna read,

Once more then, love, once more the sufferer aid,

I too can pity, but I must upbraid;

Of these vain feelings then thy bosom free,
Nor be o'erwhelm'd by useless sympathy."
The wife again despatch'd the useless bribe,
Again essay'd her terrors to describe ;
Again with kindest words entreated peace,
And begg'd her offerings for a time might cease.
A calm succeeded, but too like the one
That causes terror ere the storm comes on:
A secret sorrow lived in Anna's heart,
In Stafford's mind a secret fear of art;

My child, one cause of my distress, is dead: Heaven has my infant."-"Heartless wretch!" she cried,

Is this thy joy?"—"I am no longer tied :
Now will I, hastening to my friend, partake
Her cares and comforts, and no more forsake;
Now shall we both in equal station move,
Save that my friend enjoys a husband's love."
Complaint and threats so strong the wife amazed,
Who wildly on her cottage neighbour gazed ;
Her tones, her trembling, first betray'd her grief;
When floods of tears gave anguish its relief.

She fear'd that Stafford would refuse assent,
And knew her selfish friend would not relent;
She must petition, yet delay'd the task,
Ashamed, afraid, and yet compell'd to ask;
Unknown to him some object fill'd her mind,
And, once suspicious, he became unkind:
They sate one evening, each absorb'd in gloom,
When, hark! a noise, and, rushing to the room,
The friend tripp'd lightly in, and laughing said, "I

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.

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.

"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.

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,
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.

"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.
"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-upply 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,

move;

Who raised the fears no mortal could endure,
And then with cruel avarice sold the cure.

'My tale is ended; but, to be applied,

I must describe the place where caliphs hide."
Here both the females look'd alarm'd, dis-
tress'd,

With hurried passions hard to be express'd.
"It was a closet by a chamber placed,
Where slept a lady of no vulgar taste;
Her friend attended in that chosen room

That she had honour'd and proclaim'd her home:
To please the eye were chosen pictures placed,
And some light volumes to amuse the taste;
Letters and music on a table laid,

For much the lady wrote, and often play'd;
Beneath the window was a toilet spread,
And a fire gleam'd upon a crimson bed."

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,

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;
tor 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
ihe 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-
"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,
Ile 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