VII.

He came, resolved to triumph and avenge-- Sure of a heart whose sorrow spoke no change; Pleased at the thought to bind again the chain-- For they who love not still can love to reign; Calm in the deeper and more fell design To sever those whom outward fetters join-- To watch the discord Scandal rumours round, Fret every sore, and fester every wound; Could he but make Dissension firm and sure, Success would render larger schemes secure; "Let Ruthven die but childless!" ran his prayer, And in the lover's sigh cold avarice prompts the heir. He came and daily came, and daily schemed-- Soft, grave, and reverent, but the friend he seem'd. These distant cousins, from their earliest days, To different goals had trod their varying ways: If Ruthven oft with generous hand supplied What were call'd luxuries, did Shoreditch decide, But what no Jury of Mayfair could doubt Are just the things life cannot live without; Yet gifts are sometimes as offences view'd, And envy is the mean man's gratitude; And, truth to own, whate'er the one bestow'd, More from his own large, careless nature flow'd Than through the channels tenderer sources send, When Favour equals--since it asks a Friend. But Ruthven loved not, in the days gone by, The cold, quick shrewdness of that stealthy eye, That spendthrift recklessness, which still was not The generous folly which itself forgot. You love the prodigal; the miser loathe, Yet oft the clockwork is the same in both: Ope but the works--the penury and excess Chime from one point--the central selfishness:-- And though men said (for those, who wear with ease The vulgar vices, seldom much displease), "His follies injure but himself alone!" His follies spared no welfare but his own: Mankind he deem'd the epitome of self, And never laid that volume on the shelf. Somewhat of this, had Ruthven mark'd before-- Now he was less acute, or Harcourt more: The first absorb'd in sorrow or in thought; The last in craft's smooth lessons deeper taught. Not over anxious to be undeceived Ruthven reform in what was rot believed; They held the same opinions on the state, And were congenial--in the last debate; Harcourt had wish'd to join the patriot crew Who botch our old laws with a patch of new; Ruthven the wish approved; and found the seat-- And so the Cousins' union grew complete.

Well then at board behold the constant guest, With love as yet by eyes alone exprest: From the past vows he dared not yet invoke The ancient Voice;--yet of the past he spoke. Whene'er expected least, he seem'd to glide A faithful shadow to her haunted side. But why relate how men their victims woo!-- He left undone no art that can undo.