She loved her Lord, or thought so; but that love

Cost her an effort, which is a sad toil,

The stone of Sisyphus, if once we move

Our feelings 'gainst the nature of the soil.

She had nothing to complain of, or reprove,

No bickerings, no connubial turmoil:

Their union was a model to behold,

Serene and noble,—conjugal, but cold.