That seeming friend betrayed me, and began
To whisper through the house, “I loved the man.”
Then memory spread and worse suspicions rose,
And searching spies broke in on my repose;
Nor chamber, closet, bed, were sacred then:
They sought to find thee, ah! they sought in vain!
Thou wrapped in innocence might sleeping be,
Unconscious of the woes I bore for thee.
The uproar now withdrawn, I strive to rest,
And throw my arms across my pensive breast.