III.

Meanwhile, to England Harcourt's steps return'd, And Seaton's new-born state the earliest news he learn'd: What the emotions of this injured man? He had a friend--and thus his letter ran: "Back to this land, where merit starves obscure, Where wisdom says--'Be anything but poor,' Return'd, my eyes the path to wealth explore, And straight I hear--'Constance is rich once more!' Thou know'st, my friend, with what a dexterous craft I 'scaped the cup a tenderer dupe had quaff'd; For in the chalice misery holds to life, What drop more nauseous than a dowerless wife? Yet she was fair, and gentle, charming--all That man would make his partner at a ball! And, for the partner of a life, what more? Plate at the board, a porter at the door! Cupid and Plutus, though they oft divide, If bound to Hymen should walk side by side; A boon companion halves the longest way,-- When Plutus join'd, I own that Love was gay; But Plutus left, where Hymen did begin, The way look'd dreary and the God gave in: Now his old comrade once more is bestow'd, And Cupid starts refresh'd upon the road. 'But how,' thou ask'st, 'how dupe again the ear, In which thy voice slept silent for a year? And how explain, how'--Why impute to thee Questions whose folly thy quick glance can see? Who loves is ever glad to be deceived, Who lies the most is still the most believed. Somewhat I trust to Eloquence and Art, And where these fail--thank Heaven she has a heart! More it disturbs me that some rumours run, That Constance, too, can play the faithless one; That, where round pastoral meads blue streamlets purl, Chloe has found a Thyrsis--in an Earl! And oh! that Ruthven! Hate is not for me; Who loves not, hates not,--both bad policy! Yet _could_ I hate, through all the earth I know But that one man my soul would honour so. Through ties remote--by some Scotch grand-dam's side, We are, if scarce related, yet allied; And had his mother been a barren dame, Mine were those lands, and mine that lordly name: Nay, if he die without an heir, ev'n yet-- Oh, while I write, perchance the seal is set! Farewell! a letter speeds to her retreat, The prayer that wafts her Harcourt to her feet; There to explain the past--his faith defend, And claim, _et cetera_--Yours, in haste, my friend!"