But, whether all within the gentle breast
Of him, of her, was happy or at rest;
Whether no lonely sigh confess’d regret—
Was then unknown, and is a secret yet; 220
And we may think, in common duty bound,
That no complaint is made where none is found.
Then came the Rival to his villa down,
Lost to the pleasures of the heartless town;
Famous he grew, and he invited all
Whom he had known to banquet at the Hall;