"There oft he came, when wearied on his throne, "To read, sleep, listen, pray, or be alone.

"The tale proceeds, when first the Caliph found

"That he was robb'd, although alone, he frown'd; "And swore in wrath, that he would send the boy "Far from his notice, favour, or employ; "But gentler movements soothed his ruffled mind, "And his own failings taught him to be kind.

"Relenting thoughts then painted Osmyn young, "His passion urgent, and temptation strong; "And that he suffer'd from that villain-Spy "Pains worse than death, till he desired to die; "Then if his morals had received a stain, "His bitter sorrows made him pure again : "To reason, pity lent her powerful aid, "For one so tempted, troubled, and betray'd; "And a free pardon the glad Boy restored "To the kind presence of a gentle lord; "Who from his office and his country drove "That traitor-Friend, whom pains nor pray'rs could

move:

"Who raised the fears no mortal could endure, "And then with cruel av'rice sold the cure.

"My tale is ended; but, to be applied, "I must describe the place where Caliphs hide."

Here both the females look'd alarm'd, distress'd, With hurried passions hard to be express'd.

"It was a closet by a chamber placed, "Where slept a lady of no vulgar taste; "Her friend attended in that chosen room

“That she had honour'd and proclaim'd her home;
"To please the eye were chosen pictures placed,
"And some light volumes to amuse the taste;
"Letters and music on a table laid,

"For much the lady wrote, and often played;
"Beneath the window was a toilet spread,
"And a fire gleam'd upon a crimson bed.'

He paused, he rose; with troubled joy the Wife Felt the new era of her changeful life;

Frankness and love appear'd in Stafford's face,
And all her trouble to delight gave place.

Twice made the Guest an effort to sustain

Her feelings, twice resumed her seat in vain,
Nor could suppress her shame, nor could support
her pain:

Quick she retired, and all the dismal night
Thought of her guilt, her folly, and her flight;
Then sought unseen her miserable home,

To think of comforts lost, and brood on wants

to come.

(1) "The Confidant" is interesting, though not altogether pleasing. A fair one makes a slip at the early age of fifteen, which is concealed from every one but her mother, and a sentimental friend, from whom she could conceal nothing. Her after life is pure and exemplary; and at twenty-five she is married to a worthy man, with whom she lives in perfect innocence and concord for many happy years. At last, the confidant of her childhood, whose lot has been less prosperous, starts up and importunes her for money - not forgetting to hint at the fatal secret of which she is the depository. After agonizing and plundering her for years, she at last comes and settles

herself in her house, and embitters her whole existence by her selfish threats and ungenerous extortions. The husband, who had been greatly disturbed at the change in his wife's temper and spirits, at last accidentally overhears enough to put him in possession of the fact; and resolving to forgive a fault so long past, and so well repaired, takes occasion to intimate his knowledge of it, and his disdain of the false confidant, in an ingenious apologue,—which, however, is plain enough to drive the pestilent visitor from his house, and to restore peace and confidence to the bosom of his grateful wife. -JEFFREY.]

TALE XVII.

RESENTMENT.

She hath a tear for pity, and a hand

Open as day for melting charity;

Yet, notwithstanding, being incensed, is flint.

Her temper, therefore, must be well observed.-2 Henry IV.

Three or four wenches where I stood cried-"Alas! good soul!" and forgave him with all their hearts; but there is no heed to be taken of them: if Cæsar had stabb'd their mothers, they would have done no less. Julius Cæsar.

How dost? Art cold?

I'm cold myself- Where is the straw, my fellow ?

The art of our necessities is strange,

That can make vile things precious. - Lear.