“All I must know, my Anna—­truly know
Whence these emotions, terrors, trouble flow: 
Give me thy grief, and I will fairly prove
Mine is no selfish, no ungenerous love.” 
   Now Anna’s soul the seat of strife became,
Fear with respect contended, love with shame: 
But fear prevailing was the ruling guide,
Prescribing what to show and what to hide. 
   “It is my friend,” she said—­“but why disclose
A woman’s weakness struggling with her woes? 
Yes, she has grieved me by her fond complaints,
The wrongs she suffers, the distress she paints: 
Something we do—­but she afflicts me still,
And says, with power to help, I want the will;
This plaintive style I pity and excuse,
Help when I can, and grieve when I refuse;
But here my useless sorrows I resign,
And will be happy in a love like thine.” 
   The Husband doubted:  he was kind but cool:  —
“’Tis a strong friendship to arise at school;
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;
Not long they lasted—­this determined foe
Knew all her claims, and nothing would forego. 
Again her letter came, where Anna read,
“My child, one cause of my distress, is dead: 
Heav’n has my infant.”—­“Heartless wretch!” she cried
“Is this thy joy?”—­“I am no longer tied: 
Now will I, hast’ning 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 sat 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 come.” 
   Anna received her with an anxious mind,
And meeting whisper’d, “Is Eliza kind?”
Reserved and cool the Husband sought to prove
The depth and force of this mysterious love. 
To nought that pass’d between the Stranger-friend
And his meek partner seem’d he to attend;
But, anxious, listened to the lightest word