Withoutthis timely help ’twas clear our wight
          Had ne’er survived the horrors of the night;
          The door was ope’d, and Reynold blessed the hand
          That gave relief, and stopt life’s ebbing sand. 
          His tale he told; got spirits, strength, and ease;
          In person tall, well made, and formed to please,
          He looked not like a novice in amour,
          Though young, and seeking shelter at a door. 
          His want of dress and miserable state
          Raised shame indeed, and showed distress was great. 
          Though love be seen in Nature’s pure array,
          No dirt appears, however you survey.

          Thisservant girl now hastened to the fair,
          And ev’ry circumstance detailed with care. 
          See, said the lady, if within the press
          There be not clothes to furnish him a dress;
          My husband, now no more, must some have left;
          Yes, said the girl, you’re not of them bereft,
          I recollect his wardrobe did abound;
          And presently a handsome suit she found.

          Meanwhilethe lady having learned the name
          Of Reynold D’Ast, his quality and fame,
          (Himself it seems particulars detailed,
          While all around his suff’rings keen bewailed,)
          Her orders gave, the bath for her prepared
          Should now receive the man her care had spared. 
          Unasked, the stranger this attention got,
          And well perfumed ere clothes they would allot. 
          When dressed, he waited on the widow fair,
          And paid his compliments with graceful air.

          Thesupper (for the marquis first designed)
          At length was served with taste the most refined. 
          Our trav’ller glad, an appetite displayed;
          The lady carefully her guest surveyed,
          And anxious seemed to gratify his wish,
          By helping what appeared his favourite dish. 
          Already, perhaps, she felt a Cupid’s dart,
          And in her throbbing bosom knew the smart;
          Or sympathy, or pity for his woes,
          Might touch the spring whence softest passion flows. 
          On ev’ry side assailed the youthful dame
          Herself surrendered unto Cupid’s flame. 
          Should I give way, said she, who’ll tell the tale? 
          No risk is run if secrecy prevail. 
          The marquis merits to be played the trick;
          He no excuse can have, unless he’s sick. 
          One sin against another I may weigh,
          And man for man will equally repay.

          Soinexperienced Reynold was not found,
          But that he saw how things were going round,
          And, that Saint Julian’s Prayer would yet succeed,
          To give him all the lodging he might need.