Love, favour, interest, tie of blood should fail,
Till vengeance bore him bleeding to the jail. 240
Poor Rachel shudder’d—smuggling she could name
Without confusion, for she felt not shame;
But poachers were her terror, and a wood
Which they frequented had been mark’d by blood;
And, though she thought her Robert was secure
In better thoughts, yet could she not be sure.
James now was urgent—it would break his heart
With hope, with her, and with such views to part,