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 gaily, 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 burthen 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: 
“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;
Some early longings these, without dispute,
Some youthful gaspings for forbidden fruit: 
Why so disorder’d, love? are such the crimes
That give us sorrow in our graver times? 
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: