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CHAP. II.
How would Philosophy enjoy this hour,
Did not grief's arrow in her bleeding side
Deep, deep infix'd, at every painful step
Pierce to the heart, and poison all her bliss.
Ev'n this calm solitude, this still serene,
Tranquillity, that to internal views
Recalls our scatter'd thoughts, and from the brow
Of ruffl'd passion steals its gloomy frown,
Is now my gentle foe; provokes the tear
From the pale eye of sorrow, and reminds
West.
As they were drinking their coffee, Madeline was agreeably surprised by hearing there was a connexion between her family and that of her departed benefactress:—the
