Dark and more dark, we know the tempest near;
And thus the frowning brow, the restless form,
And threat’ning glance, forerun domestic storm:
So read the Husband, and, with troubled mind,
Reveal’d his fears - “My Love, I hope you find
All here is pleasant - but I must confess
You seem offended, or in some distress:
Explain the grief you feel, and leave me to redress.”
“Leave it to you?” replied the Nymph - “indeed!
What to the cause from whence the ills proceed?