Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395903" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tale XVI</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE CONFIDANT.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Anna was young and lovely--in her eye<br>The glance of beauty, in her cheek the dye:<br>Her shape was slender, and her features small,<br>But graceful, easy, unaffected all:<br>The liveliest tints her youthful face disclosed;<br>There beauty sparkled, and there health reposed;<br>For the pure blood that flush'd that rosy cheek<br>Spoke what the heart forbade the tongue to speak,<br>And told the feelings of that heart as well,<br>Nay, with more candour than the tongue could tell.<br>Though this fair lass had with the wealthy dwelt,<br>Yet like the damsel of the cot she felt;<br>And, at the distant hint or dark surmise,<br>The blood into the mantling cheek would rise.<br>Now Anna's station frequent terrors wrought,<br>In one whose looks were with such meaning fraught,<br>For on a Lady, as an humble friend,<br>It was her painful office to attend.<br>Her duties here were of the usual kind -<br>And some the body harass'd, some the mind:<br>Billets she wrote, and tender stories read,<br>To make the Lady sleepy in her bed;<br>She play'd at whist, but with inferior skill,<br>And heard the summons as a call to drill;<br>Music was ever pleasant till she play'd<br>At a request that no request convey'd;<br>The Lady's tales with anxious looks she heard,<br>For she must witness what her Friend averr'd;<br>The Lady's taste she must in all approve,<br>Hate whom she hated, whom she lov'd must love;<br>These, with the various duties of her place,<br>With care she studied, and perform'd with grace:<br>She veil'd her troubles in a mask of ease,<br>And show'd her pleasure was a power to please.<br>Such were the damsel's duties: she was poor -<br>Above a servant, but with service more:<br>Men on her face with careless freedom gaz'd,<br>Nor thought how painful was the glow they raised.<br>A wealthy few to gain her favour tried,<br>But not the favour of a grateful bride;<br>They spoke their purpose with an easy air,<br>That shamed and frighten'd the dependent fair;<br>Past time she view'd, the passing time to cheat,<br>But nothing found to make the present sweet:<br>With pensive soul she read life's future page,<br>And saw dependent, poor, repining age.<br>But who shall dare t'assert what years may </div><div style="margin:10px 0">bring,<br>When wonders from the passing hour may spring?<br>There dwelt a Yeoman in the place, whose mind<br>Was gentle, generous, cultivated, kind;<br>For thirty years he labour'd; fortune then<br>Placed the mild rustic with superior men:<br>A richer Stafford who had liv'd to save,<br>What he had treasured to the poorer gave;<br>Who with a sober mind that treasure view'd,<br>And the slight studies of his youth renew'd:<br>He not profoundly, but discreetly read,<br>And a fair mind with useful culture fed;<br>Then thought of marriage--'But the great,' said he<br>'I shall not suit, nor will the meaner me.'<br>Anna, he saw, admired her modest air;<br>He thought her virtuous, and he knew her fair;<br>Love raised his pity for her humble state,<br>And prompted wishes for her happier fate;<br>No pride in money would his feelings wound,<br>Nor vulgar manners hurt him and confound:<br>He then the Lady at the Hall address'd,<br>Sought her consent, and his regard expressed:<br>Yet if some cause his earnest wish denied,<br>He begg'd to know it, and he bow'd and sigh'd.<br>The Lady own'd that she was loth to part,<br>But praised the damsel for her gentle heart,<br>Her pleasing person, and her blooming health,<br>But ended thus, 'Her virtue is her wealth.'<br>'Then is she rich!' he cried with lively air;<br>'But whence, so please you, came a lass so fair?'<br>'A placeman's child was Anna, one who died<br>And left a widow by afflictions tried;<br>She to support her infant daughter strove,<br>But early left the object of her love:<br>Her youth, her beauty, and her orphan state<br>Gave a kind countess interest in her fate:<br>With her she dwelt and still might dwelling be,<br>When the earl's folly caused the lass to flee;<br>A second friend was she compell'd to shun,<br>By the rude offers of an uncheek'd son;<br>I found her then, and with a mother's love<br>Regard the gentle girl whom you approve;<br>Yet e'en with me protection is not peace,<br>Nor man's designs nor beauty's trials cease:<br>Like sordid boys by costly fruit they feel -<br>They will not purchase, but they try to steal.'<br>Now this good Lady, like a witness true,<br>Told but the truth, and all the truth she knew;<br>And 'tis our duty and our pain to show<br>Truth this good lady had not means to know.<br>Yes, there was lock'd within the damsel's breast<br>A fact important to be now confess'd;<br>Gently, my muse, th' afflicting tale relate,<br>And have some feeling for a sister's fate.<br>Where Anna dwelt, a conquering hero came, -<br>An Irish captain, Sedley was his name;<br>And he too had that same prevailing art,<br>That gave soft wishes to the virgin's heart:<br>In years they differ'd; he had thirty seen<br>When this young beauty counted just fifteen;<br>But still they were a lovely lively pair,<br>And trod on earth as if they trod on air.<br>On love, delightful theme! the captain dwelt<br>With force still growing with the hopes he felt<br>But with some caution and reluctance told,<br>He had a father crafty, harsh, and old;<br>Who, as possessing much, would much expert,<br>Or both, for ever, from his love reject:<br>Why then offence to one so powerful give,<br>Who (for their comfort) had not long to live?<br>With this poor prospect the deluded maid,<br>In words confiding, was indeed betray'd;<br>And, soon as terrors in her bosom rose,<br>The hero fled; they hinder'd his repose.<br>Deprived of him, she to a parent's breast<br>Her secret trusted, and her pains impress'd;<br>Let her to town (so prudence urged) repair,<br>To shun disgrace, at least to hide it there;<br>But ere she went, the luckless damsel pray'd<br>A chosen friend might lend her timely aid:<br>'Yes! my soul's sister, my Eliza, come,<br>Hear her last sigh, and ease thy Anna's doom.'<br>''Tis a fool's wish,' the angry father cried,<br>But, lost in troubles of his own, complied;<br>And dear Eliza to her friend was sent,<br>T'indulge that wish, and be her punishment.<br>The time arrived, and brought a tenfold dread;<br>The time was past, and all the terror fled;<br>The infant died; the face resumed each charm,<br>And reason now brought trouble and alarm.<br>Should her Eliza--no! she was too just,<br>'Too good and kind--but ah! too young to trust.'<br>Anna return'd, her former place resumed,<br>And faded beauty with now grace re-bloom'd;<br>And if some whispers of the past were heard,<br>They died innoxious, as no cause appear'd;<br>But other cares on Anna's bosom press'd,<br>She saw her father gloomy and distress'd;<br>He died o'erwhelmed with debt, and soon was shed<br>The filial sorrow o'er a mother dead:<br>She sought Eliza's arms--that faithful friend was </div><div style="margin:10px 0">wed;<br>Then was compassion by the countess shown,<br>And all th' adventures of her life are known.<br>And now, beyond her hopes--no longer tried<br>By slavish awe--she lived a Yoeman's bride;<br>Then bless'd her lot, and with a grateful mind<br>Was careful, cheerful, vigilant, and kind:<br>The gentle husband felt supreme delight,<br>Bless'd by her joy, and happy in her sight;<br>He saw with pride in every friend and guest<br>High admiration and regard express'd:<br>With greater pride, and with superior joy,<br>He look'd exulting on his first-born boy;<br>To her fond breast the wife her infant strain'd,<br>Some feelings utter'd, some were not explain'd;<br>And she enraptured with her treasure grew,<br>The sight familiar, but the pleasure new.<br>Yet there appear'd within that tranquil state<br>Some threat'ning prospect of uncertain fate;<br>Between the married when a secret lies,<br>It wakes suspicion from enforced disguise:<br>Still thought the Wife upon her absent friend,<br>With all that must upon her truth depend.<br>' There is no being in the world beside<br>Who can discover what that friend will hide:<br>Who knew the fact, knew not my name or state,<br>Who these can tell cannot the fact relate;<br>But thou, Eliza, canst the whole impart,<br>And all my safety is thy generous heart.'<br>Mix'd with these fears--but light and transient </div><div style="margin:10px 0">these -<br>Fled years of peace, prosperity, and ease;<br>So tranquil all, that scarce a gloomy day<br>For days of gloom unmix'd prepared the way:<br>One eve, the Wife, still happy in her state,<br>Sang gaily, thoughtless of approaching fate;<br>Then came a letter, that (received in dread<br>Not unobserved) she in confusion read;<br>The substance this--'Her friend rejoiced to find<br>That she had riches with a grateful mind;<br>While poor Eliza had, from place to place,<br>Been lured by hope to labour for disgrace;<br>That every scheme her wandering husband tried,<br>Pain'd while he lived, and perish'd when he died.'<br>She then of want in angry style complain'd,<br>Her child a burthen to her life remain'd,<br>Her kindred shunn'd her prayers, no friend her soul </div><div style="margin:10px 0">sustain'd.<br>'Yet why neglected? Dearest Anna knew<br>Her worth once tried, her friendship ever true;<br>She hoped, she trusted, though by wants oppress'd,<br>To lock the treasured secret in her breast;<br>Yet, vex'd by trouble, must apply to one,<br>For kindness due to her for kindness done.'<br>In Anna's mind was tumult, in her face<br>Flushings of dread had momentary place:<br>'I must,' she judged, 'these cruel lines expose,<br>Or fears, or worse than fears, my crime disclose.'<br>The letter shown, he said, with sober smile, -<br>'Anna, your Friend has not a friendly style:<br>Say, where could you with this fair lady dwell,<br>Who boasts of secrets that she scorns to tell?'<br>'At school,' she answer'd: he 'At school!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">replied;<br>'Nay, then I know the secrets you would hide;<br>Some early longings these, without dispute,<br>Some youthful gaspings for forbidden fruit:<br>Why so disorder'd, love? are such the crimes<br>That give us sorrow in our graver times?<br>Come, take a present for your friend, and rest<br>In perfect peace--you find you are confess'd.'<br>This cloud, though past, alarm'd the conscious </div><div style="margin:10px 0">wife,<br>Presaging gloom and sorrow for her life;<br>Who to her answer join'd a fervent prayer<br>That her Eliza would a sister spare:<br>If she again--but was there cause?--should send,<br>Let her direct--and then she named a friend:<br>A sad expedient untried friends to trust,<br>And still to fear the tried may be unjust:<br>Such is his pain, who, by his debt oppress'd,<br>Seeks by new bonds a temporary rest.<br>Few were her peaceful days till Anna read<br>The words she dreaded, and had cause to dread: -<br>'Did she believe, did she, unkind, suppose<br>That thus Eliza's friendship was to close?<br>No, though she tried, and her desire was plain,<br>To break the friendly bond, she strove in vain:<br>Ask'd she for silence? why so loud the call,<br>And yet the token of her love so small?<br>By means like these will you attempt to bind<br>And check the movements of an injured mind?<br>Poor as I am, I shall be proud to show<br>What dangerous secrets I may safely know:<br>Secrets to men of jealous minds convey'd<br>Have many a noble house in ruins laid;<br>Anna, I trust, although with wrongs beset,<br>And urged by want, I shall be faithful yet;<br>But what temptation may from these arrive,<br>To take a slighted woman by surprise,<br>Becomes a subject for your serious care -<br>For who offends, must for offence prepare.'<br>Perplex'd, dismay'd, the Wife foresaw her doom;<br>A day deferr'd was yet a day to come;<br>But still, though painful her suspended state,<br>She dreaded more the crisis of her fate;<br>Better to die than Stafford's scorn to meet,<br>And her strange friend perhaps would be discreet.<br>Presents she sent, and made a strong appeal<br>To woman's feelings, begging her to feel;<br>With too much force she wrote of jealous men,<br>And her tears falling spoke beyond the pen;<br>Eliza's silence she again implored,<br>And promised all that prudence could afford.<br>For looks composed and careless Anna tried;<br>She seem'd in trouble, and unconscious sigh'd:<br>The faithful Husband, who devoutly loved<br>His silent partner, with concern reproved:<br>'What secret sorrows on my Anna press,<br>That love may not partake, nor care redress?'<br>'None, none,' she answer'd, with a look so kind<br>That the fond man determined to be blind.<br>A few succeeding weeks of brief repose<br>In Anna's cheek revived the faded rose;<br>A hue like this the western sky displays,<br>That glows awhile, and withers as we gaze.<br>Again the Friend's tormenting letter came -<br>'The wants she suffer'd were affection's shame;<br>She with her child a life of terrors led,<br>Unhappy fruit, but of a lawful bed:<br>Her friend was tasting every bliss in life,<br>The joyful mother, and the wealthy wife;<br>While she was placed in doubt, in fear, in want,<br>To starve on trifles that the happy grant;<br>Poorly for all her faithful silence paid,<br>And tantalized by ineffectual aid:<br>She could not thus a beggar's lot endure;<br>She wanted something permanent and sure:<br>If they were friends, then equal be their lot,<br>And she were free to speak if they were not.'<br>Despair and terror seized the Wife, to find<br>The artful workings of a vulgar mind:<br>Money she had not, but the hint of dress<br>Taught her new bribes, new terrors to redress;<br>She with such feeling then described her woes<br>That envy's self might on the view repose;<br>Then to a mother's pains she made appeal,<br>And painted grief like one compell'd to feel.<br>Yes! so she felt, that in her air, her face,<br>In every purpose, and in every place,<br>In her slow motion, in her languid mien,<br>The grief, the sickness of her soul, was seen.<br>Of some mysterious ill, the Husband sure,<br>Desired to trace it, for he hoped to cure;<br>Something he knew obscurely, and had seen<br>His wife attend a cottage on the green;<br>Love, loth to wound, endured conjecture long,<br>Till fear would speak, and spoke in language </div><div style="margin:10px 0">strong.<br>'All I must know, my Anna--truly know<br>Whence these emotions, terrors, trouble flow:<br>Give me thy grief, and I will fairly prove<br>Mine is no selfish, no ungenerous love.'<br>Now Anna's soul the seat of strife became,<br>Fear with respect contended, love with shame:<br>But fear prevailing was the ruling guide,<br>Prescribing what to show and what to hide.<br>'It is my friend,' she said--'but why disclose<br>A woman's weakness struggling with her woes?<br>Yes, she has grieved me by her fond complaints,<br>The wrongs she suffers, the distress she paints:<br>Something we do--but she afflicts me still,<br>And says, with power to help, I want the will;<br>This plaintive style I pity and excuse,<br>Help when I can, and grieve when I refuse;<br>But here my useless sorrows I resign,<br>And will be happy in a love like thine.'<br>The Husband doubted: he was kind but cool: -<br>''Tis a strong friendship to arise at school;<br>Once more then, love, once more the sufferer aid, -<br>I too can pity, but I must upbraid:<br>Of these vain feelings then thy bosom free,<br>Nor be o'erwhelm'd by useless sympathy.'<br>The Wife again despatch'd the useless bribe,<br>Again essay'd her terrors to describe;<br>Again with kindest words entreated peace,<br>And begg'd her offerings for a time might cease.<br>A calm succeeded, but too like the one<br>That causes terror ere the storm comes on:<br>A secret sorrow lived in Anna's heart,<br>In Stafford's mind a secret fear of art;<br>Not long they lasted--this determined foe<br>Knew all her claims, and nothing would forego.<br>Again her letter came, where Anna read,<br>'My child, one cause of my distress, is dead:<br>Heav'n has my infant.'--'Heartless wretch!' she </div><div style="margin:10px 0">cried<br>'Is this thy joy?'--'I am no longer tied:<br>Now will I, hast'ning to my friend, partake<br>Her cares and comforts, and no more forsake;<br>Now shall we both in equal station move,<br>Save that my friend enjoys a husband's love.'<br>Complaint and threats so strong the Wife amazed,<br>Who wildly on her cottage-neighbour gazed;<br>Her tones, her trembling, first betray'd her grief,<br>When floods of tears gave anguish its relief.<br>She fear'd that Stafford would refuse assent,<br>And knew her selfish Friend would not relent;<br>She must petition, yet delay'd the task,<br>Ashamed, afraid, and yet compell'd to ask;<br>Unknown to him some object fill'd her mind,<br>And, once suspicious, he became unkind:<br>They sat one evening, each absorb'd in gloom,<br>When, hark! a noise; and, rushing to the room,<br>The Friend tripp'd lightly in, and laughing said, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I come.'<br>Anna received her with an anxious mind,<br>And meeting whisper'd, 'Is Eliza kind?'<br>Reserved and cool the Husband sought to prove<br>The depth and force of this mysterious love.<br>To nought that pass'd between the Stranger-friend<br>And his meek partner seem'd he to attend;<br>But, anxious, listened to the lightest word<br>That might some knowledge of his guest afford,<br>And learn the reason one to him so dear<br>Should feel such fondness, yet betray such fear.<br>Soon he perceived this uninvited guest,<br>Unwelcome too, a sovereign power possess'd;<br>Lofty she was and careless, while the meek<br>And humbled Anna was afraid to speak:<br>As mute she listen'd with a painful smile,<br>Her friend sat laughing, and at ease the while,<br>Telling her idle tales with all the glee<br>Of careless and unfeeling levity.<br>With calm good sense he knew his Wife endued,<br>And now with wounded pride her conduct view'd;<br>Her speech was low, her every look convey'd -<br>'I am a slave, subservient and afraid.'<br>All trace of comfort vanish'd; if she spoke,<br>The noisy friend upon her purpose broke;<br>To her remarks with insolence replied,<br>And her assertions doubted or denied:<br>While the meek Anna like an infant shook,<br>Woe-struck and trembling at the serpent's look.<br>'There is,' said Stafford, 'yes, there is a </div><div style="margin:10px 0">cause -<br>This creature frights her, overpowers, and awes.'<br>Six weeks had pass'd--'In truth, my love, this </div><div style="margin:10px 0">friend<br>Has liberal notions; what does she intend?<br>Without a hint she came, and will she stay<br>Till she receives the hint to go away?'<br>Confused the Wife replied, in spite of truth,<br>'I love the dear companion of my youth.'<br>''Tis well,' said Stafford; 'then your loves renew:<br>Trust me, your rivals, Anna, will be few.'<br>Though playful this, she felt too much </div><div style="margin:10px 0">distress'd<br>T'admit the consolation of a jest.<br>Ill she reposed, and in her dreams would sigh,<br>And, murmuring forth her anguish, beg to die;<br>With sunken eye, slow pace, and pallid cheek,<br>She look'd confusion, and she fear'd to speak.<br>All this the Friend beheld, for, quick of sight,<br>She knew the husband eager for her flight;<br>And that by force alone she could retain<br>The lasting comforts she had hope to gain.<br>She now perceived, to win her post for life,<br>She must infuse fresh terrors in the wife;<br>Must bid to friendship's feebler ties adieu,<br>And boldly claim the object in her view:<br>She saw the husband's love, and knew the power<br>Her friend might use in some propitious hour.<br>Meantime the anxious Wife, from pure distress<br>Assuming courage, said, 'I will confess;'<br>But with her children felt a parent's pride,<br>And sought once more the hated truth to hide.<br>Offended, grieved, impatient, Stafford bore<br>The odious change, till he could bear no more:<br>A friend to truth, in speech and action plain,<br>He held all fraud and cunning in disdain;<br>But fraud to find, and falsehood to detect,<br>For once he fled to measures indirect.<br>One day the Friends were seated in that room<br>The Guest with care adorn'd, and named her home.<br>To please the eye, there curious prints were </div><div style="margin:10px 0">placed,<br>And some light volumes to amuse the taste;<br>Letters and music on a table laid,<br>The favourite studies of the fair betray'd;<br>Beneath the window was the toilet spread,<br>And the fire gleam'd upon a crimson bed.<br>In Anna's looks and falling tears were seen<br>How interesting had their subjects been:<br>'Oh! then,' resumed the Friend, 'I plainly find<br>That you and Stafford know each other's mind;<br>I must depart, must on the world be thrown,<br>Like one discarded, worthless, and unknown;<br>But, shall I carry, and to please a foe,<br>A painful secret in my bosom? No!<br>Think not your Friend a reptile you may tread<br>Beneath your feet, and say, the worm is dead;<br>I have some feeling, and will not be made<br>The scorn of her whom love cannot persuade:<br>Would not your word, your slightest wish, effect<br>All that I hope, petition, or expect?<br>The power you have, but you the use decline -<br>Proof that you feel not, or you fear not mine.<br>There was a time when I, a tender maid,<br>Flew at a call, and your desires obey'd;<br>A very mother to the child became,<br>Consoled your sorrow, and conceal'd your shame;<br>But now, grown rich and happy, from the door<br>You thrust a bosom-friend, despised and poor;<br>That child alive, its mother might have known<br>The hard, ungrateful spirit she had shown.'<br>Here paused the Guest, and Anna cried at length </div><div style="margin:10px 0">-<br>'You try me, cruel friend! beyond my strength;<br>Would I had been beside my infant laid,<br>Where none would vex me, threaten, or upbraid!'<br>In Anna's looks the Friend beheld despair;<br>Her speech she soften'd, and composed her air;<br>Yet, while professing love, she answer'd still -<br>'You can befriend me, but you want the will.'<br>They parted thus, and Anna went her way,<br>To shed her secret sorrows, and to pray.<br>Stafford, amused with books, and fond of home,<br>By reading oft dispell'd the evening gloom;<br>History or tale--all heard him with delight,<br>And thus was pass'd this memorable night.<br>The listening Friend bestow'd a flattering </div><div style="margin:10px 0">smile:<br>A sleeping boy the mother held the while;<br>And ere she fondly bore him to his bed,<br>On his fair face the tear of anguish shed.<br>And now his task resumed, 'My tale,' said he,<br>'Is short and sad, short may our sadness be!'<br>'The Caliph Harun, as historians tell, <br>Ruled, for a tyrant, admirably well;<br>Where his own pleasures were not touch'd, to men<br>He was humane, and sometimes even then.<br>Harun was fond of fruits and gardens fair,<br>And woe to all whom he found poaching there:<br>Among his pages was a lively Boy,<br>Eager in search of every trifling joy;<br>His feelings vivid, and his fancy strong,<br>He sigh'd for pleasure while he shrank from wrong:<br>When by the Caliph in the garden placed,<br>He saw the treasures which he long'd to taste;<br>And oft alone he ventured to behold<br>Rich hanging fruits with rind of glowing gold;<br>Too long he stay'd forbidden bliss to view,<br>His virtue failing as his longings grew;<br>Athirst and wearied with the noontide heat,<br>Fate to the garden led his luckless feet;<br>With eager eyes and open mouth he stood,<br>Smelt the sweet breath, and touch'd the fragrant </div><div style="margin:10px 0">food;<br>The tempting beauty sparkling in the sun<br>Charm'd his young sense--he ate, and was undone;<br>When the fond glutton paused, his eyes around<br>He turn'd, and eyes upon him turning found;<br>Pleased he beheld the spy, a brother-page.<br>A friend allied in office and in age;<br>Who promised much that secret he would be,<br>But high the price he fix'd in secrecy:<br>''Were you suspected, my unhappy friend,'<br>Began the boy, 'where would your sorrows end?<br>In all the palace there is not a page<br>The Caliph would not torture in his rage:<br>I think I see thee now impaled alive,<br>Writhing in pangs--but come, my friend! revive;<br>Had some beheld you, all your purse contains<br>Could not have saved you from terrific pains;<br>I scorn such meanness; and, if not in debt,<br>Would not an asper on your folly set.'<br>'The hint was strong; young Osmyn search'd his </div><div style="margin:10px 0">store<br>For bribes, and found he soon could bribe no more;<br>That time arrived, for Osmyn's stock was small,<br>And the young tyrant now possess'd it all;<br>The cruel youth, with his companions near,<br>Gave the broad hint that raised the sudden fear;<br>Th' ungenerous insult now was daily shown,<br>And Osmyn's peace and honest pride were flown;<br>Then came augmenting woes, and fancy strong<br>Drew forms of suffering, a tormenting throng;<br>He felt degraded, and the struggling mind<br>Dared not be free, and could not be resign'd;<br>And all his pains and fervent prayers obtain'd<br>Was truce from insult, while the fears remain'd.<br>'One day it chanced that this degraded Boy<br>And tyrant-friend were fixed at their employ;<br>Who now had thrown restraint and form aside,<br>And for his bribe in plainer speech applied:<br>'Long have I waited, and the last supply<br>Was but a pittance, yet how patient I!<br>But give me now what thy first terrors gave,<br>My speech shall praise thee, and my silence save.'<br>'Osmyn had found, in many a dreadful day,<br>The tyrant fiercer when he seem'd in play:<br>He begg'd forbearance: 'I have not to give;<br>Spare me awhile, although 'tis pain to live:<br>Oh! had that stolen fruit the power possess'd<br>To war with life, I now had been at rest.'<br>''So fond of death,' replied the Boy, ''tis </div><div style="margin:10px 0">plain<br>Thou hast no certain notion of the pain;<br>But to the Caliph were a secret shown,<br>Death has no pain that would be then unknown.'<br>'Now,' says the story, 'in a closet near,<br>The monarch seated, chanced the boys to hear;<br>There oft he came, when wearied on his throne,<br>To read, sleep, listen, pray, or be alone.<br>'The tale proceeds, when first the Caliph found<br>That he was robb'd, although alone, he frown'd;<br>And swore in wrath that he would send the boy<br>Far from his notice, favour, or employ;<br>But gentler movements soothed his ruffled mind,<br>And his own failings taught him to be kind.<br>'Relenting thoughts then painted Osmyn young,<br>His passion urgent, and temptation strong;<br>And that he suffer'd from that villain-Spy<br>Pains worse than death, till he desired to die;<br>Then if his morals had received a stain,<br>His bitter sorrows made him pure again:<br>To reason, pity lent her powerful aid,<br>For one so tempted, troubled, and betray'd:<br>And a free pardon the glad Boy restored<br>To the kind presence of a gentle lord;<br>Who from his office and his country drove<br>That traitor-Friend, whom pains nor pray'rs could </div><div style="margin:10px 0">move:<br>Who raised the fears no mortal could endure,<br>And then with cruel av'rice sold the cure.<br>'My tale is ended; but, to be applied,<br>I must describe the place where Caliphs hide.'<br>Here both the females look'd alarm'd, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">distress'd,<br>With hurried passions hard to be express'd.<br>'It was a closet by a chamber placed,<br>Where slept a lady of no vulgar taste;<br>Her friend attended in that chosen room<br>That she had honour'd and proclaim'd her home;<br>To please the eye were chosen pictures placed;<br>And some light volumes to amuse the taste;<br>Letters and music on a table laid,<br>For much the lady wrote, and often play'd:<br>Beneath the window was a toilet spread,<br>And a fire gleamed upon a crimson bed.'<br>He paused, he rose; with troubled joy the Wife<br>Felt the new era of her changeful life;<br>Frankness and love appear'd in Stafford's face,<br>And all her trouble to delight gave place.<br>Twice made the Guest an effort to sustain<br>Her feelings, twice resumed her seat in vain,<br>Nor could suppress her shame, nor could support her </div><div style="margin:10px 0">pain.<br>Quick she retired, and all the dismal night<br>Thought of her guilt, her folly, and her flight;<br>Then sought unseen her miserable home,<br>To think of comforts lost, and brood on wants to </div><div style="margin:10px 0">come.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Crabbe">George Crabbe</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395903" data-title="Tale XVI de George Crabbe" data-description="THE CONFIDANT.

Anna was young and lovely--in her eye
The glance of beauty, in her cheek the dye:
Her shape was slender, and her features small,
But graceful, easy, unaffected all:
The liveliest tints her youthful face disclosed;
There beauty spar..."></div>
</div>
</div>