That might some knowledge of his guest afford,
And learn the reason one to him so dear
Should feel such fondness, yet betray such fear. 
   Soon he perceived this uninvited guest,
Unwelcome too, a sovereign power possess’d;
Lofty she was and careless, while the meek
And humbled Anna was afraid to speak: 
As mute she listen’d with a painful smile,
Her friend sat laughing, and at ease the while,
Telling her idle tales with all the glee
Of careless and unfeeling levity. 
With calm good sense he knew his Wife endued,
And now with wounded pride her conduct view’d;
Her speech was low, her every look convey’d —
“I am a slave, subservient and afraid.” 
All trace of comfort vanish’d; if she spoke,
The noisy friend upon her purpose broke;
To her remarks with insolence replied,
And her assertions doubted or denied: 
While the meek Anna like an infant shook,
Woe-struck and trembling at the serpent’s look. 
   “There is,” said Stafford, “yes, there is a cause —
This creature frights her, overpowers, and awes.” 
Six weeks had pass’d—­“In truth, my love, this friend
Has liberal notions; what does she intend? 
Without a hint she came, and will she stay
Till she receives the hint to go away?”
   Confused the Wife replied, in spite of truth,
“I love the dear companion of my youth.” 
“’Tis well,” said Stafford; “then your loves renew: 
Trust me, your rivals, Anna, will be few.” 
   Though playful this, she felt too much distress’d
T’admit the consolation of a jest. 
Ill she reposed, and in her dreams would sigh,
And, murmuring forth her anguish, beg to die;
With sunken eye, slow pace, and pallid cheek,
She look’d confusion, and she fear’d to speak. 
   All this the Friend beheld, for, quick of sight,
She knew the husband eager for her flight;
And that by force alone she could retain
The lasting comforts she had hope to gain. 
She now perceived, to win her post for life,
She must infuse fresh terrors in the wife;
Must bid to friendship’s feebler ties adieu,
And boldly claim the object in her view: 
She saw the husband’s love, and knew the power
Her friend might use in some propitious hour. 
   Meantime the anxious Wife, from pure distress
Assuming courage, said, “I will confess;”
But with her children felt a parent’s pride,
And sought once more the hated truth to hide. 
   Offended, grieved, impatient, Stafford bore
The odious change, till he could bear no more: 
A friend to truth, in speech and action plain,
He held all fraud and cunning in disdain;
But fraud to find, and falsehood to detect,
For once he fled to measures indirect. 
   One day the Friends were seated in that room
The Guest with care adorn’d, and named her home. 
To please the eye, there curious prints were placed,
And some light volumes to amuse the taste;
Letters and music on a table laid,