She slept not nor well fared, but restless dwelt
On her past life, and past afflictions felt; 520
The man she loved the brother and the foe
Of him she married!—It had wrought her woe:
Not that she loved, but pitied, and that now
Was, so she fear’d, infringement of her vow.
James too was civil, though she must confess
That his was not her kind of happiness;
That he would shoot the man who shot a hare
Was what her timid conscience could not bear;