Yet was there sign of joy that we complied,
The moment’s wish indulged and gratified.
“Where art thou wandering, Rachel? whither stray,
From thy poor heath in such unwholesome day?” 20
Ask’d my kind friend, who had familiar grown
With Rachel’s grief, and oft compassion shown;
Oft to her hovel had in winter sent
The means of comfort—oft with comforts went.
Him well she knew, and with requests pursued,
Though too much lost and spent for gratitude.