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On doctrines dwell, and every point enforce But name th' offence, and you absolve the rest,
By quoting much, the scholar's sure resource : And point the dagger at a single breast.
For he alone can show us on each head

Yet are there sinners of a class so low,
What ancient schoolmen and sage fathers said: That you with safety may the lash bestow ;
No worth has knowledge, if you fail to show Poachers, and drunkards, idle rogues, who feed
How well you studied, and how much you know : At others' cost, a mark'd correction need :
Is faith your subject, and you judge it right And all the better sort, who see your zeal,
On theme so dark to cast a ray of light?

Will love and reverence for their pastor feel; Be it that saith the orthodox maintain,

Reverence for one who can inflict the smart, Found in the rubric, what the creeds explain; And love, because he deals them not a part. Fail not to show us on this ancient faith

* Remember well what love and age advise ; (And quote the passage) what some martyr saith : A quiet rector is a parish prize, Dwell not one moment on a faith that shocks Who in his learning has a decent pride ; The minds of men sincere and orthodox;

Who to his people is a gentle guide ; That gloomy faith, that robs the wounded mind Who only hints at failings that he sees; Of all the comfort it was wont to find

Who loves his glebe, his patron, and his ease, From virtuous acts, and to the soul denies And finds the way to fame and profit is to please." Its proper due for alms and charities ;

The nephew answer'd not, except a sigh That partial faith, that, weighing sins alone; And look of sorrow might be term'd reply ; Lets not a virtue for a fault atone;

He saw the fearful hazard of his state, That starving faith, that would our tables clear, And held with truth and safety strong debate; And make one dreadful Lent of all the year; Nor long he reason'd, for she zealous youth And cruel too, for this is faith that rends

Resolved, though timid, to profess the truth ; Confiding beauties from protecting friends; And though his friend should like a lion roar, A faith that all embracing, what a gloom

Truth would he preach, and neither less nor more. Deep and terrific o'er the land would come! The bells had tollid-arrived the time of prayer, What scenes of horror would that time disclose ! The flock assembled, and the 'squire was there : No sight but misery, and no sound but woes; And now can poet sing, or proseman say, Your nobler faith, in loftier style convey’d, The disappointment of that trying day? Shall be with praise and admiration paid :

As he who long had train'd a favourite steed, On points like these your hearers all admire (Whose blood and bone gave promise of his A preacher's depth, and nothing more require ;

speed,) Shall we a studious youth to college send, Sanguine with hope, he runs with partial eye That every clown his words may comprehend ? O'er every feature, and his bets are high; 'Tis for your glory, when your hearers own Of triumph sure, he sees the rivals start, Your learning matchless, but the sense unknown. And waits their coming with exulting heart;

Thus honour gain'd, learn now to gain a friend, Forestalling glory, with impatient glance, And the sure way is—never to offend ;

And sure to see his conquering steed advance ; For, James, consider-what your neighbours do The conquering steed advances--luckless day! Is their own business, and concerns not you :

A rival's Herod bears the prize away. Shun all resemblance to that forward race

Nor second his, nor third, but lagging last, Who preach of sins before a sinner's face; With hanging head he comes, by all surpass'd ; And seem as if they overlook'd a pew,

Surprise and wrath the owner's mind inflame, Only to drag a failing man in view :

Love turns to scorn, and glory ends in shame ;Much should I feel, when groaning in disease, Thus waited, high in hope, the partial 'squire, If a rough hand upon my limb should seize ; Eager to hear, impatient to admire: But great my anger, if this hand were found When the young preacher in the tones that find The very doctor's, who should make it sound: A certain passage to the kindling mind, So feel our minds, young priest, so doubly feel, With air and accent strange, impressive, sad, When hurt by those whose office is to heal. Alarm'd the judge-he trembled for the lad;

“Yet of our duties you must something tell, But when the text announced the power of grace, And must at times on sin and frailty dwell; Amazement scowl'd upon his clouded face, Here you may preach in easy, flowing style, At this degenerate son of his illustrious race How errors cloud us, and how sins defile: Staring he stood, till hope again arose, Here bring persuasive tropes and figures forth, That James might well define the words he chose : To show the poor that wealth is nothing worth; For this he listen'd; but, alas! he found That they, in fact, possess an ample share

The preacher always on forbidden ground. of the world's good, and feel not half its care; And now the uncle left the hated pew, Give them this comfort, and, indeed, my gout With James, and James's conduct in his view: In its full vigour causes me some doubt ;

A long farewell to all his favourite schemes ! And let it always, for your zeal, suflice,

For now no crazed fanatic's frantic dreams That vice you combat, in the abstract-vice: Seem'd vile as James's conduct, or as James : The very captious will be quiet then;

All he had long derided, hated, fear'd, We all confess we are offending men:

This from the chosen youth the uncle heard ;In lashing sin, of every stroke beware,

The needless pause, the fierce disorder'd air, For sinners feel, and sinners you must spare ; The groan for sin, ihe vehemence of prayer, In general satire, every man perceives

Gave birth to wrath, that, in a long discourse A slight attack, yet neither fears nor grieves ; T of grace, triumphant rose to fourfold force:

He found his thoughts despised, his rules trans- | And when the spirits of her lord were low, gress'd,

The lass presumed the wicked cause to show: And while the anger kindled in his breast, (press'd: “ It was the wretched life his honour led, The pain must be endured that could not be ex. And would draw vengeance on his guilty head; Each new idea more inflamed his ire,

Their loves (Heaven knew how dreadfully disAs fuel thrown upon a rising fire :

tress'd A hearer yet, he sought by threatening sign The thought had made her!) were as yet unbless'd : To ease his heart, and awe the young divine ; And till the church had sanction’d”-Here she saw But James refused those angry looks to meet, The wrath that forced her trembling to withdraw. Till he dismiss'd his flock, and left his seat: Add to these outward ills, some inward light, Exhausted then he felt his trembling frame, That show'd him all was not correct and right: But fix'd his soul-his sentiments the same ; Though now he less indulged--and to the poor, and therefore wise it seem'd to fly from rage, From day to day, sent alms from door to door; And seek for shelter in his parsonage:

Though he some ease from easy virtues found, There, if forsaken, yet consoled to find

Yet conscience told him he could not compound; Some comforts left, though not a few resign'd ; But must himself the darling sin deny, There, if he lost an erring parent's love,

Change the whole heart; but here a heavy sigh An honest conscience must the cause approve; Proclaim'd, “ How vast the toil! and ah! how If the nice palate were no longer fed,

weak am I!"
The mind enjoy'd delicious thoughts instead; James too has tronble-he divided sees
And if some part of earthly good was flown, A parish, once harmonious and at ease:
Still was the tithe of ten good farms his own. With him united are the simply meek,

Fear now, and discord, in the village reign, The warm, the sad, the nervous, and the weak;
The cool remonstrate, and the meek complain; The rest his uncle's, save the few beside
But there is war within, and wisdom pleads in vain : Who own no doctrine, and obey no guide ;
Now dreads the uncle, and proclaims his dread, With stragglers of each adverse camp, who lend
Lest the boy.priest should turn each rustic head ; Their aid to both, but each in turn offend.
The certain converts cost him certain wo,

Though zealous still, yet he begins to feel The doubtful fear lest they should join the foe: The heat too fierce, that glows in vulgar zeal; Jatrons of old, with whom he used to joke, With pain he hears his simple friends relate Now pass his honour with a pious look ;

Their week's experience, and their woful state : Lasses, who met him once with lively airs, With small temptation struggling every hour, Now cross his way, and gravely walk to prayers : And bravely batiling with the tempting power; An old companion, whom he long has loved, His native sense is hurt by strange complaints By coward fears confess'd his conscience moved ; Of inward motions in these warring saints ; As the third bottle gave its spirit forth,

Who never cast on sinful bait a look
And they bore witness to departed worth, But they perceive the devil at the hook :
The friend arose, and he too would depart: Grieved, yet compellid to smile, he finds it bard
• Man," said the 'squire, “ thou wert not wont to Against the blunders of conceit to guard ;
Hast thou attended to that foolish boy, [start; He sighs to hear the jests his converts cause,
Who would abridge all comforts, or destroy ?” He cannot give their erring zeal applause ;

Yes, he had listen'd, who had slumber'd long, But finds it inconsistent to condemn
And was convinced that something must be wrong: The flights and follies he has nursed in them :
But, though affected, still his yielding heart, These, in opposing minds, contempt produce,
And craving palate, took the uncle's part ; Or mirth occasion, or provoke abuse :
Wine now oppress'd him, who, when free from On each momentous theme disgrace they bring,
wine,

And give to Scorn her poison and her sting.
Could seldom clearly utter his design;
But though by nature and indulgence weak,
Yet, half converted, he resolved to speak;
And, speaking, own'd, “ that in his mind the youth

TALE XVI.
Had gifts and learning, and that truth was truth :
The 'equire he honour'd, and, for his poor part,

THE CONFIDANT.
He hated nothing like a hollow heart:

Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy, But 'twas a maxim he had often tried,

To follow still the changes of the moon, That right was right, and there he would abide ;

With fresh suspicion? He honour'd learning, and he would confess

Othello, act iii. sc. 3. The preacher had his talents--more or less : Why not agree? he thought the young divine

Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks, Had no such strictness—they might drink and dine;

And given my treasure and my rights in thee

To thick-eyed musing and cursed melancholy For them sufficient-but he said before,

Henry IV. Part I. act ii. sc. 3. That truth was truth, and he would drink no more.”

It is excellent This heard the 'squire with mix'd contempt and

To have a giant's strength, but tyrannous pain;

To use it as a giant. He feard the priest this recreant sot would gain.

Measure for Measure, act ii. sc. 2. The favourite nymph, though not a convert made, Conceived the man she scorn'd her cause would Anna was young and lovely—in her eye aid;

The glance of beauty, in her cheek the dye ;

Her shape was slender, and her features small, Yet if some cause his earnest wish denied,
But graceful, easy, unaffected all :

He begg’d to know it, and he bow'd and sigh'd.
The liveliest tints her youthful face disclosed; The lady own'd that she was loath to part,
There beauty sparkled, and there health reposed; But praised the damsel for her gentle heart,
For the pure blood that flush'd that rosy cheek Her pleasing person, and her blooming health,
Spoke what the heart forbade the tongue to speak; But ended thus, “ Her virtue is her wealth.”
And told the feelings of that heart as well,

“ Then is she rich !" he cried, with lively air; Nay, with more candour than the tongue could • But whence, so please you, came a lass so fair ?" tell :

“A placeman's child was Anna, one who died Though this fair lass had with the wealthy dwelt, And left a widow by afflictions tried ; Yet like the damsel of the cot she felt;

She to support her infant daughter strove, And, at the distant hint or dark surmise,

But early left the object of her love; The blood into the mantling cheek would rise. Her youth, her beauty, and her orphan state,

Now Anna's station frequent terrors wrought Gave a kind countess interest in her fate ; In one whose looks were with such meaning With her she dwelt, and still might dwelling be, fraught;

When the earl's folly caused the lass to flee ; For on a lady, as an humble friend,

A second friend was she compell'd to shun, It was her painful office to attend.

By the rude offers of an uncheck'd son ; Her duties here were of the usual kind,

I found her then, and with a mother's love And some the body harass’d, some the mind : Regard the gentle girl whom you approve ; Billets she wrote, and tender stories read,

Yet, e'en with me protection is not peace, To make the lady sleepy in her bed ;

Nor man's designs, nor beauty's trial, cease; She play'd at whist, but with inferior skill, Like sordid boys by costly fruit they feel, And heard the summons as a call to drill; They will not purchase, but they try to steal.” Music was ever pleasant till she play'd

Now this good lady, like a witness true, At a request that no request convey'd ;

Told but the truth, and all the truth she knew; The lady's tales with anxious looks she heard, And 'tis our duty and our pain to show For she must witness what her friend averr'd : Truth this good lady had not means to know. The lady's taste she must in all approve,

Yes, there was lock'd within the damsel's breast Hate whom she hated, whom she loved must love ; A fact important to be now confess'd; These, with the various duties of her place, Gently, my muse, th' afflicting tale relate, With care she studied, and perform’d with grace; And have some feeling for a sister's fate. She veil'd her troubles in a mask of ease,

Where Anna dwelt, a conquering hero came, And show'd her pleasure was a power to please. An Irish captain, Sedley was his name ;

Such were the damsel's duties ; she was poor And he too had that same prevailing att, Above a servant, but with service more :

That gave soft wishes to the virgin's heart: Men on her face with careless freedom gazed, In years they differ'd ; he had thirty seen Nor thought how painful was the glow they raised; When this young beauty counted just fifteen ; A wealthy few to gain her favour tried,

But still they were a lovely, lively pair, . But not the favour of a grateful bride :

And trod on earth as if they trod on air.
They spoke their purpose with an easy air, On love, delightful theme! the captain dwelt,
That shamed and frighten'd the dependent fair; With force still growing with the hopes he felt;
Past time she view'd, the passing time to cheat, But with some caution and reluctance told,
But nothing found to make the present sweet, He had a father, crafty, harsh, and old ;
With pensive soul she read lise's future page, Who, as possessing much, would much expect,
And saw dependent, poor, repining age.

Or hoth, for ever, from his love reject :
But who shall dare t'assert what years may bring, Why then offence to one so powerful give,
When wonders from the passing hour may spring ?- Who (for their comfort) had not long to live ?
There dwelt a yeoman in the place, whose mind With this poor prospect the deluded maid,
Was gentle, generous, cultivated, kind ;

In words confiding, was indeed betray'd ;
For thirty years he labour'd ; fortune then And, soon as terrors in her bosom rose,
Placed the mild rustic with superior men

The hero fled ; they hinder'd his repose. A richer Stafford who had lived to save,

Deprived of him, she to a parent's breast What he had treasured to the poorer gave ;

Her secrets trusted, and her pains express'd; Who with a sober mind that treasure view'd, Let her to town (80 prudence urged) repair, And the slight studies of his youth renew'd : To shun disgrace, at least to hide it there ; He not profoundly, but discreetly read,

But ere she went, the luckless damsel pray'd And a fair mind with useful culture fed,

A chosen friend might lend her timely aid : Then thonght of marriage; “But the great,” said he, “ Yes ; my soul's sister, my Eliza, come, “ I shall not suit, nor will the meaner me.” Hear her last sigh, and ease thy Anna's doom." Anna he saw, admired her modest air,

"Tis a fool's wish," the angry father cried, He thought her virtuous, and he knew her fair; But, lost in troubles of his own, complied : Love raised his pity for her humble state,

And dear Eliza to her friend was sent, And prompted wishes for her happier fate ; T' indulge that wish, and be her punishment : No pride in money would his feelings wound, The time arrived, and brought a tenfold dread; Nor vulgar manners hurt him and confound : The time was past, and all the terror fled ; He then the lady at the hall address'd,

The infant died; the face resumed each charm, Sought her consent, and his regard express'd ; And reason now brought trouble and alarm :

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Should her Eliza—no! she was too just, “I must,” she judged, “ these cruel lines expose, Too good and kind—but ah! too young to trust.” Or fears, or worse than fears, my crime disclose.” Anna return’d, her former place resumed,

The letter shown, he said, with sober smile, And faded beauty with new grace rebloom'd; Anna, your friend has not a friendly style : And if some whispers of the past were heard, Say, where could you with this fair lady dwell, "They died innoxious, as no cause appear'd; Who boasts of secrets that she scorns to tell ?" But other cares on Anna's bosom press’d,

“At school," she answer'd: he “At school!" replied ; She saw her father gloomy and distress'd ;

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

Some youthful gaspings for forbidden fruit : The filial sorrow o'er a mother dead :

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;

Come, take a present for your friend, and rest Then was compassion by the countess shown, In perfect peace-you find you are confess’d.” And all th' adventures of her life are known. This cloud, though past, alarm'd the conscious And now beyond her hopes-no longer tried

wife, By slavish aweshe lived a yeoman's bride; Presaging gloom and sorrow for her life ; Then bless'd her lot, and with a grateful mind Who to her answer join'd a fervent prayer, Was careful, cheerful, vigilant, and kind ; That her Eliza would a sister spare : The gentle husband felt supreme delight, If she again—but was there cause ?-should send, Bless'd by her joy, and happy in her sight ;, Let her direct-and then she named a friend : He saw with pride in every friend and guest A sad expedient uniried friends to trust, High admiration and regard express'd :

And still to fear the tried may be unjust : With greater pride, and with superior joy, Such is his pain, who, by his debt oppress’d, He look'd exulting on his first-born boy ;

Seeks by new bonds a temporary rest. To her fond breast the wife her infant strain'd, Few were her peaceful days till Anna read Some feelings utter'd, some were not explain’d; The words she dreaded, and had cause to dread :And she enraptured with her treasure grew,

“ Did she believe, did she, unkind, suppose The sight familiar, but the pleasure new.

That thus Eliza's friendship was to close ? Yet there appear'd within that tranquil state No! though she tried, and her desire was plain, Some threatening prospect of uncertain fate; To break the friendly bond, she strove in vain : Between the married when a secret lies,

Ask'd she for silence? why so loud the call,
It wakes suspicion from enforced disguise : And yet the token of her love so small ?
Still thought the wife upon her absent friend, By means like these will you attempt to bind
With all that must upon her truth depend; And check the movements of an injured mind ?
* There is no being in the world beside,

Poor as I am, I shall be proud to show
Who can discover what that friend will hide ; What dangerous secrets I may safely know :
Who knew the fact, knew not my name or state, Secrets to men of jealous minds convey'd,
Who these can tell cannot the fact relate; Have many a noble house in ruins laid :
Bat thou, Eliza, canst the whole impart,

Anna, I trust, although with wrongs beset,
And all my safety is thy generous heart.” And urged by want, I shall be faithful yet;
Mix'd with these fears—but light and transient But what temptation may from these arise,
these-

To take a slighted woman by surprise, Fled years of peace, prosperity, and ease : Becomes a subject for your serious careSo tranquil all, that scarce a gloomy day

For who offends, must for offence prepare." For days of gloom unmix'd prepared the way; Perplex'd, dismay'd, the wife foresaw her dooin ; One eve, the wife, still happy in her state, A day deferr'd was yet a day to come; Sang gayly, thoughtless of approaching fate: But still, though painful her suspended state, Then came a letter, that (received in dread, She dreaded more the crisis of her fate ; Not unobserved) she in confusion read ;

Better to die than Stafford's scorn to meet, The substance this ; “ Her friend rejoiced to find And her strange friend perhaps would be discreet : That she had riches with a grateful mind; Presents she sent, and made a strong appeal While poor Eliza had from place to place To woman's feelings, begging her to feel ; Been lured by hope to labour for disgrace ; With too much force she wrote of jealous men, That every scheme her wandering husband tried, And her tears falling spoke beyond the pen ; Pain'd while he lived, and perish'd when he died.” Eliza's silence she again implored, She then of want in angry style complain'd, And promised all that prudence could afford. Her child a burden to her life remain'd,

For looks composed and careless Anna tried ; Her kindred shunn'd her prayers, no friend her She seem'd in trouble, and unconscious sigh'd : soul sustain'd.

The faithful husband, who devoutly loved " Yet why neglected ? Dearest Anna knew His silent partner, with concern reproved : Her worth once tried, her friendship ever true ; • What secret sorrows on my Anna press, She hoped, she trusted, though by wants oppress’d, That love may not partake, nor care redress ?" To lock the treasured secret in her breast; “ None, none,” she answer'd, with a look so Yet, vex'd by trouble, must apply to one,

kind, For kindness due to her for kindness done." That the fond man determined to be blind. In Anna's mind was tumult, in her face

A few succeeding weeks of brief repose, Flushings of dread had momentary place: In Anna's cheek revived the faded rose ;

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A hue like this the western sky displays,

Not long they lasted—this determined foe That glows a while, and withers as we gaze.

Knew all her claims, and nothing would forego; Again the friend's tormenting letter came Again her letter came, where Anna read, “ The wants' she suffer'd were affection's shame ; My child, one cause of my distress, is dead : She with her child a life of terrors led,

Heaven has my infant.”—“Heartless wretch!" she Unhappy fruit! but of a lawful bed :

cried, Her friend was tasting every bliss in life, “ Is this thy joy ?"_“I am no longer tied : The joyful mother, and the wealthy wife ; Now will I, hastening to my friend, partake While she was placed in doubt, in fear, in want, Her cares and comforts, and no more forsake; To starve on trifles that the happy grant;

Now shall we both in equal station move, Poorly for all her faithful silence paid,

Save that my friend enjoys a husband's love." And tantalized by ineffectual aid :

Complaint and threats so strong the wife amazed, She could not thus a beggar's lot endure ; Who wildly on her cottage neighbour gazed ; She wanted something permanent and sure : Her tones, her trembling, first betray'd her grief; If they were friends, then equal be their lot, When floods of tears gave anguish its relief. And she was free to speak if they were not.' She fear'd that Stafford would refuse assent,

Despair and terror seized the wife, to find And knew her selfish friend would not relent; The artful workings of a vulgar mind;

She must petition, yet delay'd the task, Money she had not, but the hint of dress

Ashamed, afraid, and yet compellid to ask; Taught her new bribes, new terrors to redress : Unknown to him some object fill'd her mind, She with such feeling then described her woes, And, once suspicious, he became unkind : That envy's self might on the view repose ; They sale one evening, each absorb'd in gloom, Then to a mother's pains she made appeal, When, hark! a noise, and, rushing to the room, And painted grief like one compellid to feel. The friend tripp'd lightly in, and laughing said, “I Yes! so she felt, that in her air, her face,

come." In every purpose, and in every place ;

Anna received her with an anxious mind, In her slow motion, in her languid mien,

And meeting whisper'd, “ Is Eliza kind ?"
The grief, the sickness of her soul were seen. Reserved and cool, the husband sought to prove

Of some mysterious ill the husband sure, The depth and force of this mysterious love.
Desired 10 trace it, for he hoped to cure ; To naught that pass'd between the stranger friend
Something he knew obscurely, and had seen And his meek partner seem'd he to attend ;
His wife attend a cottage on the green ;

But, anxious, listen'd to the lightest word
Love, loath to wound, endured conjecture long, That might some knowledge of his guest afford;
Till fear would speak, and spoke in language and learn the reason one to him so dear
strong.

Should feel such fondness, yet betray such fear. "All I must know, my Anna-truly know Soon he perceived this uninvited guest, Whence these emotions, terrors, troubles flow; Unwelcome too, a sovereign power possess'd ; Give me thy grief, and I will fairly prove Lofty she was and careless, while the meek Mine is no selfish, no ungenerons love."

And humbled Anna was afraid to speak : Now Anna's soul the seat of strife became, As mute she listen'd with a painful smile, Fear with respect contended, love with shame; Her friend sate laughing and at ease the while, But fear prevailing was the ruling guide, Telling her idle tales with all the glee Prescribing what to show and what to hide. Of careless and unfeeling levity.

" It is my friend," she said—“ But why disclose With calm good sense he knew his wife endued, A woman's weakness struggling with her woes ? And now with wounded pride her conduct view'd; Yes, she has grieved me by her fond complaints, Her speech was low, her every look convey'd-The wrongs she suffers, the distress she paints : “ I am a slave subservient and afraid." Something we do—but she afflicts me still, All trace of comfort vanish'd if she spoke, And says, with power to help, I want the will ; The noisy friend upon her purpose broke ; This plaintive style I pity and excuse,

To her remarks with insolence replied, TIelp when I can, and grieve when I refuse ; And her assertions doubted or denied ; But here my useless sorrows I resign,

While the meek Anna like an infant shook, And will be happy in a love like thine.

Wo-struck and trembling at the serpent's look. The husband doubted ; he was kind but cool : “ There is,” said Stafford, “yes, there is a cause “ 'Tis a strong friendship to arise at school ; This creature frights her, overpowers, and awes." Once more then, love, once more the sufferer Six weeks had pass'd—“In truth, my love, this aid,

friend I too can pity, but I must upbraid ;

Has liberal notions; what does she intend? Of these vain feelings then thy bosom free, Without a hint she came, and will she stay Nor be o'erwhelm'd by useless sympathy." Till she receives the hint to go away ?"

The wife again despatch'd the useless bribe, Confused the wife replied, in spite of truth. Again essay'd her terrors to describe ;

“ I love the dear companion of my yonth." Again with kindest words entreated peace, " "Tis well,” said Stafford;" then your loves renew; And begg'd her offerings for a time might cease. Trust me, your rivals, Anna, will be few." A calm succeeded, but too like the one

Though playful this, she felt too much distress'd That causes terror ere the storm comes on: T'admit the consolation of a jest ; A secret sorrow lived in Anna's heart,

Il she reposed, and in her dreams would sigh, In Stafford's mind a secret fear of art;

And, murmuring forth her anguish, beg to die;

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