He other blessing sought without the hand;
For still he felt alive the lambent flame,
And offer’d her a home, - and home she came.
There, though her higher friendships lived no more,
She loved to speak of what she shared before -
“Of the dear Lucy, heiress of the hall, -
Of good Sir Peter, - of their annual ball,
And the fair countess! - Oh! she loved them all!”
The humbler clients of her friend would stare,
The knowing smile, - but neither caused her care;