That frequent murmurs from the wife’s cold lips,
And warns the spouse to meek assent—and one
The keener-rising strain of mother’s plaint
Which from obedience turns her daughter’s mind
To undisguised revolt. The mother weeps
At that black burial of the single life,
Her hapless daughter’s marriage; and her tears
Are half of sorrow, half of guile—the man
Tormented, rids himself of her!, but thou,
Poor bondsman, whose wealth-seeking, glamoured eyes