POETliY OF PLOWERS. 
11 
For Hamuel vowed revenge, and laid a plot 
Against her virgin fame. He spread abroad 
Whispers that travel fast, and ill reports 
That soon obtain belief; that Zillah’s eye 
When in the temple heaven-ward it was rais’d 
Did swim with rapturous zeal, but there were those 
Who had beheld the enthusiast’s melting glance 
With other feelings fill’d ; that ’twas a task 
Of easy sort to play the saint by day 
Before the public eye, but that all eyes 
Were closed at night; that Zillah’s life was foul, 
Yea, forfeit to the law. 
Shame—shame to man, 
That he should trust so easily the tongue 
That stabs another’s fame! the ill report 
Was heard, repeated, and believed,—and soon, 
For Hamuel by most damned artifice 
Produced such semblances of guilt, the Maid 
Was judged to shameful death. 
Without the walls 
There was a barren field; a place abhorr’d, 
For it was there where wretched criminals 
Were done to die; and there they built the stake, 
And piled the fuel round, that should consume 
The accused Maid, abandon’d, as it seem’d, 
By God and man. The assembled Bethlemites 
Beheld the scene, and when they saw the Maid 
Bound to the stake, with what calm holiness 
She lifted up her patient looks to Heaven, 
They doubted of her guilt. With other thoughts 
