The threat of rustics whisper’d round her bier.
Stories like this were told, but yet, in time
Fair ladies lost their horror at the crime.
They knew that cottage girls were forward things,
Who never heed a nettle till it stings;
Then, too, the Captain had his fault confess’d,
And scorn’d to turn a murder to a jest.
Away with murder!—This accomplish’d swain
Beheld Maria, and confess’d her reign— 80
She came, invited by the rector’s wife,