“Strange creatures these,” thought Jesse, half inclined
To smile at one malicious and yet kind;
Frank and yet cunning, with a heart to love
And malice prompt—­the serpent and the dove;
Here could she dwell? or could she yet depart? 
Could she be artful? could she bear with art? —
This splendid mansion gave the cottage grace,
She thought a dungeon was a happier place;
And Colin pleading, when he pleaded best,
Wrought not such sudden change in Jesse’s breast. 
   The wondering maiden, who had only read
Of such vile beings, saw them now with dread;
Safe in themselves—­for nature has design’d
The creature’s poison harmless to the kind;
But all beside who in the haunts are found
Must dread the poison, and must feel the wound. 
   Days full of care, slow weary weeks pass’d on,
Eager to go, still Jesse was not gone;
Her time in trifling, or in tears, she spent,
She never gave, she never felt, content: 
The Lady wonder’d that her humble guest
Strove not to please, would neither lie nor jest;
She sought no news, no scandal would convey,
But walk’d for health, and was at church to pray: 
All this displeased, and soon the Widow cried,
“Let me be frank—­I am not satisfied;
You know my wishes, I your judgment trust;
You can be useful, Jesse, and you must: 
Let me be plainer, child—­I want an ear,
When I am deaf, instead of mine to hear;
When mine is sleeping let your eye awake;
When I observe not, observation take: 
Alas!  I rest not on my pillow laid,
Then threat’ning whispers make my soul afraid;
The tread of strangers to my ear ascends,
Fed at my cost, the minions of my friends;
While you, without a care, a wish to please,
Eat the vile bread of idleness and ease.” 
   Th’ indignant Girl, astonish’d, answer’d—­“Nay! 
This instant, madam, let me haste away: 
Thus speaks my father’s, thus an orphan’s friend? 
This instant, lady, let your bounty end.” 
   The Lady frown’d indignant—­“What!” she cried,
“A vicar’s daughter with a princess’ pride
And pauper’s lot! but pitying I forgive;
How, simple Jesse, do you think to live? 
Have I not power to help you, foolish maid? 
To my concerns be your attention paid;
With cheerful mind th’ allotted duties take,
And recollect I have a Will to make.” 
   Jesse, who felt as liberal natures feel,
When thus the baser their designs reveal,
Replied—­“Those duties were to her unfit,
Nor would her spirit to her tasks submit.” 
   In silent scorn the Lady sat awhile,
And then replied with stern contemptuous smile —
   “Think you, fair madam, that you came to share
Fortunes like mine without a thought or care? 
A guest, indeed! from every trouble free,
Dress’d by my help, with not a care for me;
When I a visit to your father made,
I for the poor assistance largely paid;
To his domestics I their tasks assign’d,