Conscience on him was destined to attend: 
She dozed indeed, grew dull, nor seem’d to spy
Crime following crime, and each of deeper dye;
But all were noticed, and the reckoning time
With her account came on—­crime following crime. 
   This, once a foe, now Brother in the Trust,
Whom Fulham late described as fair and just,
Was the sole Guardian of a wealthy maid,
Placed in his power, and of his frown afraid: 
Not quite an idiot, for her busy brain
Sought, by poor cunning, trifling points to gain;
Success in childish projects her delight,
She took no heed of each important right. 
   The friendly parties met—­the Guardian cried,
“I am too old; my sons have each a bride: 
Martha, my ward, would make an easy wife: 
On easy terms I’ll make her yours for life;
And then the creature is so weak and mild. 
She may be soothed and threaten’d as a child.” 
“Yet not obey,” said Fulham, “for your fools,
Female and male, are obstinate as mules.” 
   Some points adjusted, these new friends agreed,
Proposed the day, and hurried on the deed. 
   “’Tis a vile act,” said Conscience.  “It will prove,”
Replied the bolder man, “an act of love: 
Her wicked guardian might the girl have sold
To endless misery for a tyrant’s gold;
Now may her life be happy—­for I mean
To keep my temper even and serene.” 
“I cannot thus compound,” the spirit cried,
“Nor have my laws thus broken and defied: 
This is a fraud, a bargain for a wife;
Expect my vengeance, or amend your life.” 
   The Wife was pretty, trifling, childish, weak;
She could not think, but would not cease to speak. 
This he forbade—­she took the caution ill,
And boldly rose against his sovereign will;
With idiot-cunning she would watch the hour,
When friends were present, to dispute his power: 
With tyrant-craft, he then was still and calm,
But raised in private terror and alarm: 
By many trials, she perceived how far
To vex and tease, without an open war;
And he discovered that so weak a mind
No art could lead, and no compulsion bind;
The rudest force would fail such mind to tame,
And she was callous to rebuke and shame;
Proud of her wealth, the power of law she knew,
And would assist him in the spending too: 
His threat’ning words with insult she defied,
To all his reasoning with a stare replied;
And when he begg’d her to attend, would say,
“Attend I will—­but let me have my way.” 
   Nor rest had Conscience:  “While you merit pain
From me,” she cried, “you seek redress in vain.” 
His thoughts were grievous:  “All that I possess
From this vile bargain adds to my distress;
To pass a life with one who will not mend,
Who cannot love, nor save, nor wisely spend,
Is a vile prospect, and I see no end: 
For if we part, I must of course restore
Much of her money, and must wed no more.