My fond compliance served him for a jest,
And sharpen’d scorn——‘I ought to be distress’d;
Why did I not with my chaste ghost comply?’
And with upbraiding scorn he told me why;— 940
O! there was grossness in his soul; his mind
Could not be raised, nor soften’d, nor refined.
“Twice he departed in his rage, and went
I know not where, nor how his days were spent;
Twice he return’d a suppliant wretch, and craved,
Mean as profuse, the trifle I had saved.