And, though he shot as he did all beside,
It still remained his only joy and pride. 380
He left her there—she knew not where he went—
But knew full well he should the slight repent;
She was not one his daily taunts to bear,
He made the house a hell that he should share;
For, till he gave her power herself to please,
Never for him should be a moment’s ease.”
“He loves you, child!” the softening father cried.—
He loves himself, and not a soul beside.