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GSNT you h thouiia Poam. influei merat( nciihei sideral consid beggai opuleii with « speaka go un TO THK CKiriCS. GSNTLEMEV, You will confer a pjreat favour on mc, should you have the goodness to point out a few of the one thou:iand and one faults that I doubt not exist in this Poum. It wus written in great haste, and under the influence of trials which might be unnecessary to enu- merate here, as in all probability they WDuld interost neiiher you nor the public at largo. Waving all am- siderations of doubt and fear, 1 introduce to your kind consideration this progemy of the bruin* not only in beggarly apparel but with all the claims of poverty on opulence. Should you give me a hand in dressing it with a more respectable garb — you will do me an un- speakable pleasure, and I hope your charity will nut go unrewarded. I hare the honour, ^c., E. G. Ct E B L A N A. CANTO I. Of Dublin's origin I'm mute ; Nor can 1 speak retined, acute, Of her founder, name and her rise. And maniiions crowned with the skies : And tho' her churches I respect. This time I pass them with neglect ; Her public buildings too I slight — Not of stones, but of men 1 write. And Erin too, a subject fit For Poet, Statesman, or for Wit ; For Lawyer, Priest, or Minister, For Painter or Philosopher ; For Historian, or Geologist, Or any thing on earth you list. Must be forgotten in my song. As tho' to her I don't belong. Go search in antiquarian lore. What Ireland was in days of yore — Written in blood her name you'll find In the old annals of mankind. Then when you search you will agree No Isle in ocean or in sea. No land so long beneath the frown, Can point more stars of bright renown. 10 / 20 KBLANA. Her beauty too should be my theme — Of sucli rare beauty Poets dream. 'Tis by imagination's power They see its shade in magic* bower, A tickle and a fading thing, Of life but the mere shadowing. 30 But let them go to Erin's bower And view the matchless beauty o'er ; Then do her justice if they can. What never has been done by man. I care not what may be the fire Of inspiration on the lyre ; I care not tho' there was combined A Homer and a Virgil mind, With every language, by which man Gave vent to thought since earth began : 40 I care not what master hand Draws the sketchless beauty of the land : Tho' study did to him impart All of the known pictorial art, He could not paint the beauty still, Her dress is so variable. Fully indeed he might express Her isolated loneliness ; But her soul fascinating hue. No Poet, Artist, ever drew ; 60 Her chequered beauties must be shewn In other tints as yet unknown. But only Time, the island paints. And cries " This was the Isle of Saints :" And leaves to Angels to express Her Edenical loveliness. so »: 40 id: 50 s:» CANTO I. 7 Imprinted by the Deity Wlien she arose from out tlie sea : Who placed her near Britannia's side, By neighbourhood lo be allied. 60 Yes, Ireland, thee I fain would praise And crown thy noble brow with bays : In fadeless bloom they would be seen Like to thine everlasting green — But tho' warm to thee is the heart, The thoughts, the tongue cannot import. Other sons more luckily born. Thee may honour, and thee adorn ; Thee in sweet sons: mav celebrate. And thy lorn heart perhaps elate — 70 But let those sons of thine beware How they inwreath thy flowing hair ; Oh let them not too much presume To add to or take from thy bloom. * In Dublin city, Ireland's pride, Many a year I there did bide ; Many a bright day I spent there. Placed above want and free from care. Of dazzling jovs I had my fill : Of Society, the best at will. 80 I had what might the eye delight, And satiate the appetite. Blest too with friends had been my lot, Friends that by me can't be forgot. All have been snatched from me away, And have mouldered down into clay. In Canada, tho' far from thee, Still, Dublin, thou art dear to me : s EBLANA. .1 The farther yet from thee I roam, The stronger still 1 love my home. 90 The chain I draw with me along, Is firmly sound as it is strong : Tho' lengthened thrice as much by fate Able I am to drag the weight. Yet Dublin, the' I love thee well. Thy many vices I must tell ; Thy many virtues I will praise, All witnessed in my younger days. 'Tis not ambition that me fires. But Hope alone, my song inspires : 100 'Tis poverty that bids me write. Pestered by it both day and night : 'Tis poverty, the poet's friend and guide. And foe to all else in the world beside. Ambition, oh how great thy power O'er the frail creatures of an hour 1 Thou dost sway man in every state. Canst make him love and make him hate ; Canst do good when it is thy will ! And swift inflict the blackest ill. 110 I see thee marked with blood on high : Restless is thy unsated eye, ' That never closed yet in sleep But when some thousands die or weep. I mark thy big and heaving breast That from creation took no rest. But when thy victim man hath lain Beneath thy feet and by thee slain. Thy sway, thy power I now resign : Body and soul dear Hope I'm thine. 120 CANTO I. te de, ate Tliou lonely and delusive thing ! 90 1 Life to the heart and oft the sting ; Why dost thou smile on every youth And seldom paint to him the truth ? Why dost thou in fictitious charms Ever woo him with hugging arms ; With transient and deceptive brace, And leave dark despair in thy place ? For many years I know thee well ; 130 And yet I can't oppose thy spell ; Tho' experience oft to me has shewn, 100 1 Thou art the greatest jilt that's known ; Yet devoutly still thee I woo, False as thou art my soul is true : Without thy presence I must die, And with thee I in anguish lie. My heart is broke, of thee deprived, And by thee oft that heart was rived : And yet nor in thy seraph smile Nor on thy brow can I see guile : 140 And on thv radiant face so fair 110 I Surely cruelty can't be there : While in thy blue and angel eye Hypocrisy I cannot spy. For better or worse thee I take ; >| Perish my all if thou forsake. Then oh, sweet Hope, my song inspire, And tune and strike for me the lyre. Now Mem'ry come, present to me Past scenes of life most faithfully : 130 The pictures truly thou must paint, 120 I With not one falsely heightened teint. 10 EBLANA. What I have known, what I have seen, What some are now, and once have been — All in true colours must appear : Depicted falsehood can't be here. Should any sketch betray a flaw- Yet onward still, fear not to draw. For limbs or heads or for each face You want no solemn cartoon grace : 160 Tis Irish heads you draw my dear And on them will vile cracks appear. I see portrayed on Mem'ry's sheet, Haunt of the gay, wide Sackville street , In bright perspective it is seen. With Carlisle bridge, and Liffey's stream : While Nelson's monument is shewn. The meetest in the world that's known. To Albion's fleet he is the star That blazes over Trafalgar : 170 I now a stately figure view, A gentleman, and handsome too ; He stands erect, a militaire, Dark and well adjusted is his hair ; His eyes are black as blackest sloes, And proudly Roman is his nose. His forehead is expansive, white ; His mein is debonair and light. It seems that nature gave to him Most faultless symmetry of limb. 180 He wears a diamond costly ring. That's devoid of all lettering : On it is graved an arrow^ keen. Typical of the one that's, seen CANTO I. 11 ►eeu — 160 et, [). 170 180 Or rather read of, tipt with ge a ; Ovid has of it sung of old. Perhaps 'tis emblematic too What Alton to the sex may do. Upon his golden headed cane A lover would his suit obtain. 190 Apollo in the amorous chase Seems, the fair Daphne, to embrace. What pain the timid maiden feels, As treads the rascal on her heels ! • How she invokes ! how he does pant ! Not one entreaty will she grant, No more than will a hare in flight. To her pursuer grant a bite. Or oblige his tooth with her tail. If by her legs she can prevail. 200 The toil of the god at last is crowned, For Daphne, a bay his arms surround. Surely this classical device, So sweetly sung and wrought so nice, Unto the bold seducer ought To have given some serious thought. In the left pocket of his vest A golden watch and eye glass rest, Secured they are by chains of gold, Composed of links of mazy fold : 210 Like the workmanship of the net. Fabricated and slily set, By the suspicious god and shrewd, Who knew his better half was lewd. Could now such subtile nets be \yroutrht, How many frail ones might be caught ! B 12 EBLANA. Twenty-five summers just have been By the gay Alton only seen : ' Blazing meridian of age, The prime of manhood, strong to wage 220 On woman war, tho' to her aid The virtues phalanx-like arrayed, She could occasionally call : Too oft alas they sleep or fall ! Polite is Alton, College bred, And in the languages well read ; His income from encumbrance clear, May he five thousand pounds a year. Few men of fashion in his day Did more successfully waylay 230 Confiding maids and innocent. By him unto perdition sent. The victim sacrificed at first On the altar of wild love accurst. Was a girl as mild and as fair . As ever breathed Ireland's air. Artless and innocent she grew Up into womanhood, nor knew Deceptive man would her beguile, vSincere she was in word and smile. 240 Tears of pity she may have shed. If perchance tales of woe she read, Or heard the dead bell, or the word Dead was her pet lamb or her bird. 15 ut tears of joy she often shed When the poor hungry man was fed ; And wshe would smile when for the food ' He oave his bow and e;ratitude.' CANTO I. 13 tge 220 230 240 ' 'i Hearing of her rare beauty, name, Alton unto her father came, ' 250 His steward, whom he made believe 'Twas solely his rents to receive, That induced him to leave the town, And hurry to the country down. <' No sooner had she struck his eve - *• Than crested passion rose on high, ' ■ • Indomitable of fierce desire. Sceptred by lust with eyes of fire, • Who regnant sat upon the throne Of reason, queen and judge alone : ' 260 While ev'ry virtue that might frown By the two fiends were struck down. Now took the villian ev'ry guise To lure her heart and dupe her eyes : • ' He swore by his eternal life That she alone should be his wife ; But protestations he might spare. For half his words her heart could snare. She gave to him in evil hour. O'er her virgin soul, unbridled power. 270 Then he with fell triumphant joy. Eager and swift, rushed to destroy The beautiful and lovely flower. The onlv one in mother bower : With more than savage hand he broke, Crushed and destroyed the father's hope. And now when he had homewards turned, H is breast for her no longer burned ; New conquests banished from his mind The ruin that he left behind : 280 14 EBLANA. ■M' ! And when she spoke of plighted troth, ScornfuUv he smiled, and was wrath. And now, oh Alton, you can tell. If woman ever loved so well, So truly loved with heart more pure. Or with more beauty to allure. But let her rest in death's embrace, Insensible to her disgrace. Destitute of living charms, With your dead child laid in her arms ; 290 Like dying flame (rue to the death, She with expiring lambent breath. Circled and kissed the cold dead thing, That once to life by her did spring. And as a bird, in summer day. Of plumage bright and sweetest lay, When (he dark storm began to frown Was by a thunderbolt struck down ; Thus was she smi( before her time. By (he murderous hand of crim^. 300 W ^m=mi^)¥r CANTO 11. Memory brings again to view Another picture just as true Unto the life as was the first. This one appears five times the worst, And tinged but with a streak of light That darkens more the gloomy night. A beauteous group that I behold, Seem robed in diamonds and in gold. So curt the gowns are of the fair The one half of their legs is bare, And of their bosoms snowy white, Voluptuous, subduing sight ! Gentlemen bv their dress and mien Among those ladies dight are seen. Conspicuous in the fair throng. Is Agnes and the tallest one, The most enchanting of them all. The gayest too at that gay ball. Her peachy cheeks and cherry lips, Her neck and bosom, waist and hips. Her legs and ankles and her feet. With a Diana might compete. While darker seems her hair and eye Than raven plume of blackest dye. Her joyous years that swift had run, Marked eighteen summers on the sun. 10 m 16 EBLANA. No cloud of sorrow yet had broke, Disappointment had not awoke ; And pining want yet had not crept, Unto the chamber where she slept ; 30 Nor had Despair in thundVing tone Yet called the happy one his own. On the floor carpeted she stands, And Alton takes her by the hands To lead her through the giddy waltz Love sins oft causing or love faults. With beating heart and blazing cheeks, In thrilling tones to her he speaks, And with flaming eyes of hot desire, He loads her breast with his own fire. 40 Blest pair ! in a few days they're seen, Flying away to Gretna Green. She thought that there she would be wed : She never prest a bridal bed. The wily libertine, secure. Long of the victim had made sure : When it beneath his power was brought, 'Twas felled by him with butcher thought. By prosperous commercial trade, A fortune Agnes' father made : 60 He for the daughter had in store, Twenty-five thousand pounds or more. Of fortune fair and fairest limb, Alton found her no match for him : For he thought it would him degrade. The blood plebeian of the maid ; Tho' healthy, pure it seemed to flow Through veins all placed in beds of snow, CANTO H. 17 30 40 v^ed :ht, ight. 50 )w, And was by the same sources fed As his, of not superior red. 60 Rut her superior he was found In lib'ral education sound. The greatest part of her school days, Squandered had been in reading plays. And love sick novels, trashy vile, That shock the morals or defile. Such phrases as did love impart. Committed were by her to heart ; And more especially those That did rejected love disclose. 70 From them she borrowed ev'ry art. That could wound or might guard the heart ; And trusted tho' she was so young To be a match for any tongue. Thus Agnes in her coat of mail. Defied seduction to assail. Such a heroine ne'er was seen At the prudent age of fifteen ; But at an age somewhat more stale Alton smashed through her coat of mail. 80 Her accomplishments were not few : Reels, waltzes and quadrilles she knew ; On the piano she could play, And siiig of Dibdin, Moore, a lay. Her voice was pleasing, soft and good : Brisk music she best understood. Handel's famed oratorio Of the Messiah, she might know ; She felt at home with jigs and glees And a few Irish melodies. 90 18 EBLANA. I Like most young ladies hot from school, Her French had no syntactic rule. Of grammar she but heard the name ; Of geography almost the same. Of Greek she knew as much perhaps As of the globes and of the maps. History was to her unknown, With each sublime, or feeling poem. Of arithmetic all she knew Division was too hard to do. 100 Of pennmanship she nought could boast, So acutely formed were almost All the letters, not excepting O ; Her writing none could read or know, ' Fwas so cryptographied by rule. But the young ladies of the school. Of the Bible little had she read. Too dull it seemed for one so bred ; A fervent prayer she never said Before she slumbered on her bed ; 1 10 The attitude of holy prayer Was thought too mean for one so fair ; In psalmody she was no adept : Its song's beneath her piano slept, Which in deep melody but spoke In notes profane when it awoke. She could not draw, she ne'er did try, Yet she might paint a butterfly. Carnations, tulips, roses red, Better taught she appeared than fed. 120 The healthy dietary rule Enforced at Agnes' boarding school, CANTO II. 19 *i / Had very little in it seen * That favoured the epicurean : ' For Madame Grubs distinctly said, ' ^ " That nature easily was fed : That beef, and veal, and pork, and ham, *' With luscious mutton, and with lamb. Produced a crassitude of blood, ' Or grumous made the vital flood : And when the fluid once was thick, Oppressed 'twould make the heart, and sick : Now thick blood nourish'd thoughts, she said, That banished study from the head." As she from sad experience knew, "What the blood in this state could do — Madame Grubs therefore thought it right To give a vegetable diet To her pupils every one. Who grew quite delicate and wan Underneath her maternal eye, As lillies in the open sky. An egg to eat was thought a sin. Yellow it made young ladies skin. A slim cut of the stalest bread. With the butter as thinly spread [ As gold leaf on a picture frame : A cup of— I don't know the name — It must be of the living spring. So lucid was the scalding thing ; Of the ghost of tea, perhaps I speak, 'Twas so attenuated, weak ; Composed the bountiful repast. When in the morn they broke their fast. C 140 1 50 to EBLANA. At five, Jie ' the ladioK dine, , Upon cabbages cut up fine, ,i •, t . W'th lettuces and onions, that ; rj/ S\vam in hog's lard or other fat ; Wher with allspice it was prepared And watci hot, to all 'twas shared ; 160 And to which Grubs this name did give, Vegetable soup, sanative. . * > It was succeeded by a dish Of minced meat and salted fish. . i , Yes Mother Grubs at times has broke, , / The rule of which above I spoke : But rules and laws she understood, Are broke when for the public good. • * To a bread pudding next she'd treat : 'Twas so full of fat and so sweet, ; , 170 Keenest appetites it would pall — .,> . Untouched, the dinner left the 1 all. . ; Justice to her I'll do at least : . , . ; , On Sabbath days the girls did feast On venison, not too often sound, Which was by poachers shot or found. .*.^,! Tho' apparently she was bad, ii ; , : i Redeeming qualities she had : , ■: k . Give at stated times she would, A dinner sumptuous and good ; 18iJ On Madaii^e Grubs I'll cast no slur, . , 'Twas when she had a visiter : But when none there was, then were seen The forme I dishes in routine. ; Of this i'uvitt ^ splendid fare, At table Grubi v/as very spare : *■-. GAHTO If. 21 200 Constant at it she did preside, To shew liow she had mortified Carnal craving appetite, That all from her example might 190 Of temperance a model take : Thus many converts she did make, Or rather they w^rt made, I deem. By the rich ])ut\;:iig>5 soups and steam. But tho' shvj iecmed so abstinent, Her person lai. , was corpulent, Plethoiirul or en ftonpomf. Against her academic law. It was her pleasure and her will, Of life's good things to have her fill. In her snug parlour ev'ry day With a light-footed man and gay ; The dancing master was her guest, She loved him long and loved him best ; She supped with him, with him did prate ; Her bliss sublime when tite a t4te. His bosky whiskers stiff and black, His flippant tongue's incessant clack, His bows, " his light fantastic toe," His smiles, his fiddle and his bow ; 310 With some new steps and flatt'ry hot, Ench'^'ted Grubs upon the spot. As she entranced, the sofa prest, ^ Music and love reigned in her breast ; While the governess, what neglect ! Taught in the school without respect. Breathes there a woman with a soul O'er whom Flattery ne'er had control, *i 22 EBLANA. Or pleasure thrilling had not felt, When unto her the Siren knelt. It* such there breathes her sex to wrong, Not to this world she does belong ; Moulded she is not of our earth. Some frigid planet gave her birth, An icy heart, an ear of frost. And eye by sunbeam never crost. To lovely women of our sphere, Kind nature gave the open ear. The warm heart and the melting eye, Flatt'ry to invite, not deny. 230 Low tho' her state or high her name. Beautiful her form as wish can claim ; Or tho' she be ungainly born. And of proud beauty be the scorn ; Despite the sinner, saint or nun, Her hostess fair is ev'ry one. Like to the sex no man is free From the strong spell of Flattery, O'er all she has the power to please : No Timon or Diogenes 240 Dare to repulse or to withstand. When the fair Goddess takes the hand ; Her kindly words, bewitching eyes. Make all that see her idolize. Maria was a lovely lass : Few of the sex could her surpass, In learning, figure and in skin ; Her unaffected worth might win A stoic or caverned recluse. Professors wrapt in thought abstruse. 250 220 IShe ^s'. CANTO II. 23 rong, n JHer accomplishments might ensnare, . 220 Jshe was so learn'd, pious, fair ; [Critic severe she could defy, (Had not the dear girl but one eye. I My tribute of respect I paid, lOne day unto the learned maid ; ■ My compliments were not believed, Ir but lukewarm she them received, [And with apathy. When I spoke [What thought myself and other folk 260 'Of her learning, and varied parts 230 And proficiency in the arts, ■ Of her pbty and her zeal — Like cannon powder laid on steel ; iThe truth alone could not impart A spark of pleasure to her heart. Then of intellectual things I spoke, and of the wanderings Of the spirit through boundless space, ^ Fain all the universe to trace. 270 'Twas all in vain, she knew too much, 240 ^ The master chord remained to touch. Of her attractions next I spoke : An interest then in her I woke ; Her form was most divine, I said — Her cheeks now flushed a deeper red : And when I did panegyrize ( Her locks and lips ; with feigned surprise She said, I was a boar complete. But yet drew closer to my seat ; 280 And closer still as I replied, 250 Beauty she was personified : fl Iji ■■«l m .i( 24 ££LANA. While Flatt'ry whispered in her ear, Many a thing I wont name here. Not one could prompt me but the Deuce, Of comparisons to make use : Her sparkling eyes (what have I said, She had got but one in her head,) Were blue as bluest stars, I vowed ; When suddenly there rose a cloud, And settled on the sky so red, But tempest now and lightning fed. The genius of the storm awoke And all its furv on me broke. 290 w^ CANTO III. loon as Alton had from him flung, ^he tendril torn that to him clung ; Ixul ting to the continent, [e on a tour of pleasure went ; .nd thoughtless as the reckless gale ^hat marred some fair and noble sail. [e was the man the only one, [er young and virgin heart that won ; [e was the man when it did win, 'empted to, and left in sin. 10 >f all her loves and all her soul, j\d hopes and fears, he had the whole ; lU her passions, joys, will and thought, )he to the Moloch idol brought ; jAU contributing, the meanwhile [To prepare and light up the pile. Agnes forsook in her distress, [And cast on the world penny less ; [Plundered of virtue and her fame, iWith no comforter in her shame, 20 [Roamed through the gass-lit streets at night, "To more to her a goodly sight : [To one, a splendid one, and which ^Contains the mansions of the rich, ^Unwittingly she slowly came, ^^Exposed to cold, to wind and rain, 26 EBLANA. From a drawing-room overhead, Candelabra lights on her shed ; A strain of melody was heard, That seemed of all to be preferred ; 30 Her miseries fast to increase, And thoughts acute revive, release. Which underneath the potent spell, Fiercely fired in her bosom, hell. it was a song, a favorite song. That told of crost love and of wrong ; Of maiden mad and left alone. Querulous and sad was the tone ; Her drooping head she feebly raised, And on the blazing window gazed. 40 It was the house, the very hall Where she met Alton at the ball ; Of her first love it was the scene, Where she was worshipped as a queen, And where her hand to him she gave — 'Twas now to her a living grave. On the flooded flags she lay. Bitterly groaned and swooned away, Insensible to grief and pain. And heedless of the wii^d and rain. 50 Above her was a frowning sky, And around no pitying eye ; No late passenger to invite Her to a refuge for the night ; All, from the storm and drenching rain, Quick, shelter secure, sought to gain ; No lazy watchman went his round — Each dozing in his box was found. ■^; CANTO III. 27 ng; en, 5 — ti, Vigilance with head on the breast, j Fitfully nodded with the lest. 60 Twas twelve o'clock, a winter's night : 30 ■ Nought could be seen to greet the sight, But the lamps equidistant placed, To point out the dark silent waste ; Each somb'rous street they did illume. Like tapers in a Theban tomb. I Her darkest shroud the night flung down f Upon the dreary stilly town ; Whose wearied life took its repose. Forgetful of its weals and woes. 70 The patt'ring rain and the storm's moan, 40 With steeple clocks, were heard alone. The nightly shower her only friend. Her fainting, fast began to end : It cooled her burning fevered breast, And clammy lips, by thirst oppresr. Upon her knees she laid her head, And to herself contritely said : " Unto my father love belongs ; Him I will seek, tell him my wrongs ; 80 Nor will I mv offence conceal ; 50 j| For the lost sheep he yet may feel ; ™ Should he receive me and forgive — > For him alone I mean to live ; No other one my heart shall share, :^ My fatlier sole will be my care. And oh, my sainted mother now, Do witness this mv solemn vow : Hadst thou been alive well I know Agnes would not have acted so. 90 D 28 EHLANA. My Aunt, indulgent never did My foolish fancies once forbid : As she's so fond she may relint, When at her knees I fain repent. But if they prove to me unkind, Distraction will destroy my mind." She rose at morn and to him went : He with stern voice and vehement. Commanded her to drop his name, When he beheld her pregnant shame. 100 He drove the daughter from that door. Who entered goddess-like before ; Nor would her once indulgent aunt An interview or pardon grant. She turned away both sick and faint, But murmured not a single plaint ; No tear was on her glossy eye. Her frozen breast heaved not a sigh : Contrition, hope, with love and prayer, Were overconie by wild despair. 110 Unconsciously she entered in, To the nocturnal haunt of sin ; This habitation of ill fame. Ruled by a prostituting dame ; Out in the suburbs was retired. And was by wealthy sparks admired. So much kindness she here received. Having revived she then believed This was of happiness the home. Where pale misery was unknown. 120 When she began to gaze around The festooned drawing-room, and found A*" e. or. ICO yer, 110 120 J. CANTO III. 29 ■That man deceptive was not there ; That blooming ladies young and fair, Administered to her relief, And essayed to assuage her grief y Then at the time she did suppose While they gave balm unto her woes. That they unto the earth were sent In mercy, were in mercy lent 130 To outraged woman, her to heal, And place on her grief the seal. But she did not opine when they Such tender things to her did say. And such attendance to her show When the next morn she thought to go, That they but garlanded with flower The victim 'neath the incense shower, And brightened but the more the knife That was to take away its life. 1 40 'Twas here upon the second morn, That Agnes had a babe still born ; With anguish and with sorrow rife. She was a mother and no wife. Secluded from the world's cold sneer, She found a home and attendance here ; And gave the gratitude she owed. To the mistress of the abode. No common brothel was the place ; No row was here, no bloody face ; 150 On the most luring splendid plan, 'Twas fitted up for monied man. Here choicest music-books were found, With instruments of sweetest sound ; '»v 30 EBLANA. ni And costly sofas, finely wrought, With ottomans fronn London brought ; Gilt framed pictures, the most obscene, On the rich papered walls were seen : Cupids and nymphs, the eye might trace, In naked beauty on each vase ; 160 Books indelicate were displayed, And images too wanton made : Lust here had all she could require To blaze up Passion's slumb'ring fire ; But none could here with little gold, The sinful coaxing witch behold. Scenes and temptations such as these. Did not Agnes attract or please At the first, tho' somewhat disguised ; She in time was familiarized, 170 Bv most insensible degrees — And strove the visiters to please. Then with a charm Flattery sweet. Laid modesty beneath her feet. Luxuriant now began to sprout. Guilt from the breast unrooted out ; It blossomed fast, each rapid shoot. As deep and deeper it took root, And expanded quick, till it became A deadly Upas to her frame. 180 With eye lascivious and elate. She gloried in her fallen state ; And mien, of graces not bereft — The fraorments of her beautv left. With hardened heart, unruffled smile, She transiently enjoyed awhile, ,0i^ CANTO III. 31 me. 1 trace, 160 170 180 ^Hollow and guilty pleasures here. 'A check was put on her career : Disease afflicted body, soul. And poisoned strong the golden bowl : 190 Deprived of hope's most feeble ray, In pain she languishingly lay ; And requested, too late reclaimed, jThat a minister, whom she named, I A relative, a faithful friend, On her departure might attend. He promptly came, devoutly read, And her strayed thoughts to heaven led. With choking voice and ghastly look. She seized upon the sacred book. 200 Her father and her aunt she named — And them curst, blessed, invoked and blamed : The clergyman retired and brought Them unto her, and by her unsought : i Who knelt and groaned, and sighed and wept, I Over the lost one as she slept ; ] And begged of heaven with ardent prayer, I Again their darling one to spare ; ! Whom from their door they lately turned, And cruelly abused and spurned. .210 Her parting life stirred in the bed, A dying spasm threw up her head ; Her eye balls sparkled with a ray Of the last sun of her last day. The parent instantly she knew. And her feeble arms on him threw ; Then conscious guilt, strong, with a frown, Held them and struggling nature down : 33 EBLANA. m She fell beneath the mortal stroke, Ere unto him she could have spoke. 220 Alas, how fickle oft is man, In firm resolve, determined plan ! The father now would give his all. If it to life could her recal. Her, whom from his embrace he flung : Curst— now prayed for with the same tongue. No mourners here stand round the bed, For so offentiive smells the dead ; Not even those that were most dear. Can linger many moments here. 230 Contagion strictly guards the prey. And corruption is on the clay : Ere had set of her days the sun. Foul putrefaction had begun. Oh can this be the lovely maid. In that black painted coffin laid ; The idolized, enchanting one. Whom all admired, now whom i U s'lun ? Or was this the enchanting thing. That at the ball did waltz and sing ? 240 She seemed so full of life, I thought That death for many years was balked ; And then so beautiful she seemM, I could not have thought or dreamed She so horrible could appear In but the compass of a year ; And even now I still can trace, A streak of beauty on that face : A while it lingers on the dead, Like unto the last sunbeam shed 250 1 'yv, CANTO ITI. 33 220 e tongue, eel, 230 'lun ? 240 250 Upon a lopt and shattered rose, On which the canker worms repose. As piece by piece a bark is strewn Beneath the cloud opposing moon, That struggles on with all her might Unto the wreck to give her light : — So beauty hovered o'er the dead — Upon the corpse her smile she shed : Rescued it seemed as if from death, Tho' past it swept destruction's breath. 260 V And oh that it, who would believe, Ffide to its bosom did receive, And vaunt and toss the head with pride, I Tho' to the worm so near allied. How still it lies, how humble now ! Pride is not on its eye or brow ; 5 The nauseous home Pride forsakes, And a one less disgusting takes. f And yet I think of Pride a shade - Upon the corpse's lips has staid, 270 } Which strongly holds unto the last The vestige of the reign that's past. As here it solitary lies. With locks dishevelled and dim eyes ; The neck so drooped, head downward hung, ' With no sweet words upon the tongue ; I I in imagination see ; Curst, stript of immortality. Expelled and from high heaven fled, A blasted rebel angel dead ; 280 And stricken by the flaming rod, J Of an avenging angry God. Ill I I -. i ii 34 EBLANA. Altho' forsaken thus by all, Tho' marred in body by his fall, Altho' of all that beauty shorn Which in his blest state he had worn There is left behind a mark Upon the ruined angel dark. Of [)erfect potency to show Tho' writhed be his face of woe ; He bore the impress of the seal, Man calls the Beautiful Ideal. 290 ^^ Oft *3^ CANTO IV. jWith conquests new and conquests great, (Alton returned home elate ; [Vivid pictures he could draw lOf the new heauties that he saw : jPVench, Spaniards, Portuguese, black-eyed. And Germans plump, for him had sighed ; While languishing Italians felt 'They were subdued before he knelt. His conquests too he did increase. In the dear lovely land of Greece : 10 The land of glorious fame and song. Where Ella loved and loved not long : In stately words he heard her speak. And tell of all her love in Greek ; That flowed from her lips grapy sweet. As he was kneeling at her feet. With joyous rolling sparklinsj eyes, She gave her hand and bade him rise : Then laid her head upon his breast, Having to him her love confost. 20 Devour he did a face and neck, That of that sun had not a speck ; From her soft bosom parian white. He extracted and drank delight ; And like the first bee that easier sips, ^le drew upon her scarlet lips ; Then as vehement to his breast E "^^■. 36 EBLANA. .,!. i The unresisting girl he prest, With her two white hands on her face, She fainted in his rough embrace ; 30 That overpowered and reached the heart, Again it made the young blood start : Onward through all her veins it rushed, And the face, neck and bosom flushed. She hoped, but 'twas to be deceived, She joyed but the more to be grieved ; She beheld, to be tantalized ; And she loved but to be despised. With the credulity of youth. She questioned not his love and truth. 40 Until from her own yellow strand. She saw him sail and wave the hand- Determined never more to part. To perjured man her bleeding heart : Scorning to outlive her disgrace. Or be sullied more by the race ; Resolved her tarnished soul to free, Sappho like she plunged in the sea. He too can show among lus works. Some of the modestly veiled Turks, 60 By him most scandalized, 'tis said ; He drove the prophet from her head. He scaled the walls, if it be true. Of the august seraglio too. But love at night impelled foo far : He had to cross a cimitar With a grim Turk, who as he fell. Dying:, curst the Frank infidel. A vain dress-maker next he 'drest : She No Bett] Will She A lAndl M ice. leart, led, d. 30 1. 40 60 CANTO IV. 37 60 She was a flirt and wore the best ; No gown than hers so neat and smart Better was made by needle art. With hazel eyes and light brown hair, She assumed a ladv-like air : A wreath of flowers adorned her head, And paleness on her face was spread ; Her pouting lips seemed to delight In teeth of pearl, as purely white ; Her breasts were full, her shape was slim, All, like a sail in gaudy trim, 70 Devoid of cargo, jewels or gold ; Allured the dashing pirate bold. Twas with " coy amorous delay," She heard what Alton had to say : He told it all to her so well, She lay entranced beneath the spell ; It al I to her so w^ell he told, She chid liim not when he made bold ; He told it all so well to her. Virtue mavde no attempt to stir, 80 No attempt to stir virtue made. The sentinel herself betrayed. To stir virtue made no attempt. Her eyes she closed, her head she bent ; Unto last's altar then was tost, The victim sure, a holocaust : Poor Martha found she was undone, Before her love had well begun. His eagle eye again was staid Upon a little servant maid, 90 Whom without trouble or delay, 38 EBLANA. Unsated passion made a prey. And as a victor, mighty, proud, To whom submission long has bowed ; Whom cities strongly fortified. And castles, have in vain defied : Beneath whose dark destroying frown, High citadels have fallen down ; For want of something more to do, Or create an excitement new : 100 Burns and levels unto the ground, What cottages and huts are found. Thus Alton varied each attack, And of each pleasure had a smack ; A sure conqueror was the blade, Of ladv fair as of the maid. Of such an Alton, oh beware. Ye thoughtless fascinating fair ! A painting strange of hugeous size, 1 10 Mem'ry holds to the mental eyes ; A motley group here crowds a room. And is enrolled in odd costume, The Georgian and Circassian there. With eyes gazelle and flaxen hair ; No plants exotic hither brought Are fair as can be framed by thought. With snuff-box feet a Chinese here, Seemeth to tread the ground with fear, So close confined and crushed her toes — What misery is on her nose. 120 There stands majestic at her side, A Tartar lass in a rough hide : But her waist is too tightly stayed • Too CANTO IV. 39 ^n, Too pale her cheeks for Tartan maid. , iln propria persona, she J From a low station rose to be '*P laced in the middle ranks of life : 'fShe was besought to be their wife, I By fortune hunters quick of scent, .Whose properties were none or lent 130 ^To usurers they ne'er could pay, 100 JOr in the court of chanc'ry lay. fHer fiither added gold to gold, By the commodities he sold ; He was a butcher, what of that, His pockets by the trade got fat ; And 'twas his boast that rich he waxed ; ^ With more honour than he that taxed f Urine, in despite of his son ; . The Roman ladies, all and one, 140 110 I Should have, tho' warlike he was known, I On him their chamber pots have thrown. I Now the butchery to commence, I Shillings requires as well as pence ; I But few of those he could command I To practise in the art his hand ; I The art of butchery I mean, I So poor at first the man had been. ^ f First, huxter-Iike, on a small scale, ;^ His checkered goods appeared fer sale : 160 I His stand big as a sentry box 120 I Exhibited old keys and locks, I Candles and butter, herrings, tuf^ I Tobacco, tripes, hogs' puddings, snuff ; Onions, ginger-bread, soap, lard, »«»• 40 EBLANA. With pipes and pork, and ballads hard To be dechiphered or be read ; The print so disrespected fled. A little cash at times he lent, — At the rate of fifty per cent. 160 In fifteen moons it came to pass. He did five pounds in full amass. Ambitious thoughts then swayed his brain ; A fat calf was bought, and was slain. With old sows that young bacon made ; How lucrative must be the trade. By which he rose from starch to sow. From candle to calf, from calf to cow. In a few years all by his thrift. From stool to chair he got a lift ; 170 From chair to cab, to carriage thence ; To golden heaps from a few pence. Graduallv but sure he rose ; Then gentlemen, reduced, he chose Associates — from whom he thought Some gentility might be caught. They often for the maiden sighed. But were by him as oft denied : Not rank and blood, but gold or land, The father swore should buy her hand. 180 He swore in vain — for his delight Eloped from him one summer night. With a pedlar, whose stock in hand In a small basket had been crammed. There nobly fronts her, face to face, A Persian nymph in silks and lace : A glance of scorn is in her eye : } The bv No diffe At the 1 A Span Is consj As supt As if a Howbl With c Upon a That si An Al( Toali She's £ And p; Upon 5 s A moi Comp< Of inf Forth If but An Iti IWith So fai Sheii In fin Butt In foi ,If m^ ll'd til CANTO IV. 41 The law bred Tartar is too nigh. No differ'nce of rank should be made At the levelling masquerade. 190 A Spanish Infanta, and proud, Is conspicuous in the crowd : As supercilious seems the maid As if all Spain by her was swayed ; How blanched her cheeks^her waist how small! With catgut scream her lungs should call Upon a tyrant so severe That strangles them w^ithout a fear. An Alderman profoundly speaks To a lady with pudding cheeks ; 200 She's a character Flemish aped, And parallelogramic shaped : Upon a certain place behind, A mount miniature I find, Composed perhaps of padding full. Of inflammable greasy wool ; For the fat lady I would fear, If but one spark had touched her here. An Italian with charming eyes, [With no proud hypocritic guise, 210 So fair, appears half deified ; I She is to Guiccioli allied [In fine taste for poetic sweets, JBut the Countess far she beats In fortune, lore, ideas grand : [If my poem could reach her hand ^I'd think myself supremely blest — Herself alone can judge the rest. |There cries at one end of the room i .H 42 EELANA. A Bohemian, " buy a broom, 220 Help to a stranger don't deny, The broom is cheap. Sir, come and buy." From the feigned strangej*, helpless, lorn. The broom was bought and quickly worn. A shepherdess appears, and fair. But of unshepherdess-like air : H^r silk boots too small, laced too tight. Her toes all corned, with vengeance bite ; Braided, bodiced, bustled and braced, The character is most unchaste : 230 Spite of her crook and sylvan gear, A town uncourted flirt is here. A Delphic priestess I espy. With coral lips and roguish eye : The god, ungodly thoughts might rule. Had he seen her on tripod stool. A lady in afflictions' weeds, With eyes unfit to look on beads. And dancing unto laughing fun. Appears the last to me, a nun. 240 I have not space, I have not time. Exhausted too of all my rhyme ; To enumerate all the sex. It would confuse, my brains perplex. The males appear a counterpart. In bold character and in art, Of all the ladies that have been Upon these laboured pages seen. A Jupiter with thunderbolt, A black fire poker grasps the dolt ; 250 An Apollo with laurel crowned, CANTO IV. 43 99 A Mercury for thefts renowned ; A toasting fork, a Neptune wields, And homage none old ocean yields ; A saintless saint without a name ; A devil in no flaming flame, Ass-eared, ram-horned is his head, A lemon faced Voltaire, unread ; A Laplander with " blue nose cold, A Russian and a Cossack bold ; 260 A fierce mustached Austrian ; A belted, spurred Hungarian ; A most treacherous Portuguese ; A lank unchristian Japanese ; A cannibal New Zealander ; A breechless kilted Highlander, Armed with whip of a smarting lash, Around his waist a scarlet sash, A bonnet rouge upon his head, A pipe by which he's almost fed ; 270 A merry devil in his eye, A sharp hard face that can defy Any icicle tooth of frost, A man with temper seldom lost. A Canadian, blithsome show, A gentleman from head to toe ; A Huron chief with him does talk ; A blanket, gun and tomahauk, Adorn his strong sleek swarthy limbs ; A Bamfield Carew with gipsey whims, 280 An Algerine, a Buccaneer, A turbann'^d bow stringed Vizier, A Tinker, Cobbler to mend shoes, F 44 ££LAMA. A Barbar brisk retailing news ; A merrv Andrew or a Clown, A Sweep, a Cbancellor in gown, A Ploughman laced, can't stand upright, A Count frenchified, unpolite ; A miser trembling for his cash, A splendid prodigal Beau Nash, 290 A dusky Smith, Man Milliner, A Beggar and Prime Minister ; Are a few of the sketches wrought By Mem'ry with the pencil thought. The eye of nature in its range Never surveyed a group so strange, And in so small a compass seen. Where Folly seems the reigning queen. Or Mistress of a noisy school With her Governess Ridicule. 300 From them all those who wish may learn Their true character to discern ; And by them they may well be taught To wear no dress but what they ought. f.i -^11=)^ > CANTO y. Oh how weak are words to express, The ideas that so often press Around bright B'ancy's spangled throne, That when nursed and maturely grown In the deep silence of the night, Struggle to come forth to the light ; i And worry too the pestered brains, To let them 'scape from judgment's reins ; Which when permission they have wrung, Must yet seek egress from the tongue, 10 Of jailers all the most unblest. That flings them out and vilely drest. A portrait Mem'ry holds to view. It scarcely seems to nature true, It represents I understand The fairest lady of the land ; No language strong, no not the pen, Her beauty rare can tell to men ; She is the burden of my song, Tho' I inflict on her a wrong. 20 Of all her features the contour Appears etherially pure : All the expression that is there Might beatified spirits wear : Such auburn locks in virgin bloom, Angels mortal ized might assume. 46 EBLANA. i |« Such sweetness of look and grace Might suit a serene seraph face ; A summer evening's tranquil sky No bluer is than is her eye ; 30 That might cause angels to revere Their Creator's power displayed here, In forming out from inert clay Such eyes of such expressive ray. The most delicate white and red Are on her cheeks, the colours spread : While on the lips of the fair maid Nature has the vermilion laid ; Her graceful neck so lovely white. Her bosom half revealed to sight, 40 Like Alpine snow by foot untrod, Are pure as when they came from God. Her breasts untouched, by man unseen, Screened by her gown of silken green, Like two white roses must appear, Not quite blown out by the young year. On her soft heaving bosom beams A diamond glittering that seems. Alternately to rise, subside, As falls or swells the crimson tide ; 60 A jewelled harp of gold refined. Confines her folded hair behind. The symmetry of her waist is shown By a golden emeralded zone. That blazons up her form serene : Meek and majestic it is seen. The maskers all to it had bent, It was so supereminent. i\ CANTO V. 47 Turks, New Zealanders, Portuguese, With the Devil, are on their knees, 60 To obtain a glance or a smile From the fair spirit of the isle. As emulous they kiss her hands, Remote the god Apollo stands : His eyes Italian charms control. But with the other is his soul. Thou noble god, all flaming bright, Wiiy dost thou shun the glorious sight ; While swift Mercury to her flies. And would alone monopolize 70 That lily hand, almost divine, The hand of lady Emeline ? If mortals dare to give reproof. It is a shame to stand aloof. Why like that god wilt thou not fawn ? Why is thy arrow keen undrawn ? Why is thy mighty bow unstrung ? And why no paean on thy tongue ? Mercury's heats if not represt May quickly fire the goddess' breast. 80 Already has the flame begun ; Haste thou god or thou art undone : Or too late may be all thy power To fascinate and to deflower. In noble bearing and in eye, Few could with the Apollo vie, In person, manners bfand, refined, And ornaments of body, mind ; In tact the tender sex to please ; In the nonchalance, in the ease, 90 '•in iJ I ft ill ;y!f| 48 EBLANA. Ami lUe ability by which His expressions he could enrich ; In the musical sweet toned voice, And the words of which he made choice, The most proper to represent A learned or a love sentiment ; Or his intentions to conceal : He was the true Beau Ideal Of a scholar and a gallant, And a hypocrite elegant, Or an elegant hypocrite ; Forming a character not unfit. For one that has already been Previously in these pages seen. And whose aspirings all incline To wed the lady Emeline, Whom he shuns to observe the more ; And what he never did before, He truly loves a girl, by whom His haughty brow is sunk in gloom. Her blithsome heart most freelv drank The purest blood of noble rank ; Accomplished, educated too. As much of literature she knew As to woman should appertain. It made her too proud to be vain. Her voice when mellovc-ed into song. Seemed not to mortals to belons: 100 110 o f By it the list'ner wf s amazed, Like giant slave that had been raised By the magician's potent spell, That on him unexpected fell. 120 CANTO T. 49 On troubled hearts a balm it spread, By it the evil spirit fled. Alton heard, saw and admired ; Sl>e was all he could have desired : Beautiful and learned, young and rich, She was a diamond upon which The artist yet had made no sign, Untouched, it brightened still the mine. 130 Devotion true by him was paid At the feet of the blushing maid ; The lovers' homage was received And his vows now sincere believed. In sweetest melody of tone. Beneath a green shade and alone. Timid and coy, and flushed, and bland, She owned her love and gave her hand. As men oft do in such a case. He near destroyed the lady's face, . 140 Bright as a ball of fire and red ; Her neck and snow drop bosom fed His keen ravenous appetite, That to such fare had no just right. And as a locust that is seen Famished, feeds on the leafy green : So his thirsty and hungry soul, Freely partook without controul, Of the pure bowl of mortal bliss. Held by a creature fair as this. 150 But when to swallow all he thought, Unto her face the blood was bro»!ght. She then with a reproving look. Quickly dashed down the bowl he took. 60 EBLANA. He, all confounded and amazed, Idolatrously on her gazed, And abashed, tremblingly surveyed Tiie enchantress and modest maid. To lady chaste the culprit knelt. The magic in his bones was felt ; 160 Nor did he from the posture rise Till he found favour in her eyes. But long that favour did not last. The thunder cloud was coming fast ; Another suiter in her train, A noble one confessed his pain ; But his confession was too late. He had been Alton's chum or mate. When on his continental toiu ; To him as a friend firm and sure, 170 Alton revealed what he had done, Of all his sins he spared not one : Never imagining that he To him a foe one day might be ; Or be a rival for that hand. Which made them both in combat stand. Full of life, expectation, glee At a brilliant ball were the three : Alton, the lady Emeline, And Mercury, who warm with wine, 180 Seized the fair hand he got from chance, And then with her led off the dance, Tho' she to Alton was engaged ; Who by suspicion grew enraged. And brooded as he stood aloof Revenge for him, for her reproof. CANTO V. 51 She danced till dancing made her tired, And refused Alton when desired By him to form a quadrille set : He was displeased but loved her yet. 190 But when he marked in Emeline, A something he could not define, And like neglect : and when he saw Her attentions h'~ rival draw : Then frantic love quick up did root The tree that bore the golden fruit. He resolved when the occasion served, To treat as he thought she deserved. Her with neglect, the bitter pill That few can swallow with good will, 800 But which she took, ere it was long It worked jealousy in her strong ; For he full in her sickened sight With the Italian spent the night. His self-possession and h's tact. That what he needed now he lacked. 'Twas jealousy, the watchful snake Which m:id love and suspicion inake. That by him cruelly was sprung, And by which first himself was stung. 21G The reptile soui^ht the vital part. Then drove its fangs deep in her heart ; Coiled in her breast the serpent lay. And fed securely on its prey. His eye triumphantly was lit. When he beheld that she was smit : But when he saw her dying state, He killed the monster when too late. . G '■;ii m i 62 EBLANA. That night she early home retired With Mercury, who still aspired 220 To a heart that but one love knew, That was in the hour of trial true. He then, with desperation steeled, Alton's doings to her revealed : Of all his crimes, to her he spoke, While honour on the wheel he broke ; Forgetful of his plighted word, The demon Treach'ry in him stirred, And as a tow'ring mighty rock Withstands the strong electric shock ; 230 But when the sapper fires the train It lies in fragments on the plain : Thus was her love by him destroyed. Which Alton not ruined but annoyed : Who having now thrown off the mask. Forgiveness from her came to ask. With livid lips and blanched cheek. She to him of his faults did speak, Which he made light of or denied, ' And swore he was t^* her belied. 240 That he swore falstSy well she knew. As from the guilty man she flew ; Petitioned by him to be heard. And now contemned as he deserved. She heeded not in her despair ; He sued a phantom of the air. He challenged then to deadly fight His quondam friend, the errant knight, And fought with him but did not fall, Receiving in his arm the ball. 250 CANTO V. 53 He came again his cause to plead, In the last hour of hopeless need, With loathing eye, st^jrn with command, She bade him go, and waved her hand. He supplicated, to be spurned ; He entered, but out to be turned ; He reared a fraud to be rived, And martyred truth to be revived. Sincere he loved but to be balked, 260 And but one by her to be mocked. He built a fane and with much care, But to fall on the idol there. ca.;to vi. Hi Wlien Buonaparte in Russia lost, By t'amiric, by the swonj, aiui tYo.st, 1 lie noble army that he led, -And from which in disguise he fled : ISluffled in furs to give him heat, Aiid tramping with half frozen feet Thro' a bleak room in mean attire, VVhere more abounded smoke than fire Experience taught him at the time. There was but a step from the sublime To the ridiculous complete ; Neighbours they are, but most unmeet." Ahun now sad experience told. In harrowing; tones, grave and cold, 'f hat from love unto hatred strong, Tiiere's but a step and that not long, ''.ris made with the most perfect ease By jealousy when lovers please ; But back that step 'twill seldom spring Until it leaves the fatal sting ; And which unto deatn did consign. The life that was of Emeline. And there she lies in fun'ral shroud. With love lamenting for her loud ; Now handed by Death to the grave. The fairest boon he ever gave. 10 20 CAf»TO VI. 65 40 Too soon the beauteous form withdrew And fled a world it scarcely knew ; T )o soon the meteor left \he sky, That flashed, to please and pleased, to die ; 30 Too soon did storms the rainbow shroud ; Too soon 'twas shattered in the cloud ; Too soon the voice had died away When inspiration on it lay ; But not too soon from earth was scared, A spirit pure for heaven prepared. Virtue she was imbodied made. And by the graces all arrayed. 'Twas a body of flaw devoid, Touched ofl' by beauty, then destroyed : A hutterfly but of a morn. That rose to die upon a thorn : A graceful poplar, but beheld By the rough woodman to be felled : A bird of paradise and song. By a fierce falcon pounced upon : VVith ruflled plumage, blooded head. It lay beneath his talons dead. A spirit of some planet bright, That did upon the earth alight In a beautiful holy flame. And incarnated then became, To talk with man of all he knew— But instantaneous from him flew, And from his base prostrated mind, Leaving the form assumed behind. A picture frame gilt for a breath : A woman lovely to the death : 60 fe' 58 EBLANA. A creature of bliss and of pain, Worshipped by man and by him slain. 60 Who maddened, agonized and galled, In the church-yard by night has called To the lone tenant of the grave To come forth, to forgive and save. in darkest gloom he goeth there. Not to utter or breathe a prayer. But to curse his destiny, and vent The anguish in his bosom pent. He visits there while he has strength : A fever of the brain at length, 70 And a foul disease that long had preyed. On a death bed, the sinner laid. Conscience Book-keeper of the soul, Stern and just shows to him the whole Of all his dark infernal deeds — While keenest thought unceasing bleeds The tortured, torn heart with its sting, For which there is no healing spring. When reason comes it comes to show The greatness of the spirit's woe ; 80 Or with its flaming torch to light Up the abyss unto its sight. Fancy brings forward to his mind All infernal shapes it can And, Which strike their terrors in the face Of that lost soul cut off from grace, Without a comforter, a friend, Self-damned as well as self-condemned. The foaming madman on his bed, Roaring summons up the dead. 90 CANTO VI. 67 The ghost of Ellen first appears ; And she with accusation sears The marrow of the feelings fine, On which the Furies often dine ; Her babe its arms to him throws, He hides himself beneath the clothes. 'Tis vain to paint by human art The horrors all that make him start : Imagination only can Depict the demons of the man. 100 Now called by him from ocean's tomb, Ella arises in his room : With dripping locks, bewildered eye. She tells her love and with a sigh, She lays her head upon his breast. And seems but there to find a rest : Sh«^ does on him as sweetly call As if he was her all in all. The perjurer with nought to say. From the dear girl turns away, 1 10 She shrieks, implores : then as she fled. She cast full on him, of the dead A look, which breathing earth can't wear. Of combined hatred, love, despair. The soul terrified, nearly fled. He fainted and sank on the bed. Again in the most abject whine. He calls the lady Emeline, And does the spectre close embrace. But starts when he meets its pale face. 120 The lovely dead, it looks so cold, The maniac can't it behold. i; i i*' hi \t| 68 EBLANA. It ices all the burning brains, And frosts the hot blood of the veins ; It glaciates the glaring eyes : Backwards he falls and lifeless lies ; 'Till madness housed upon the brain, In thunder roar woke life again. Agnes too, dreadfully appears, Whom more than all the rest he fears ; She heedless of the madman's cries, In festered shroud beside him lies ; She gives him her sepulchral charms, And clasps him with her rotten arms. Her putrifying lips emit The grave's cold, clammy juices, fit To be extracted by him first. Of her destroyers all, the worst. From him she'll now take no excuse ; Imbibe he must the putrid juice ; The matchless villain, and accurst, Is forced to drink Death's nectar first. Now close and closer he is prest Unto her blue putrescent breast ; The cold dead flesh is glued to him, Lip upon lip, and limb on limb. He struogles in the bed to rise From the cadaver sacrifice In vain, while no hand is found To cut the bonds by w4iich he's bound. With rtal pain in ev'ry pore, Thv i can't suffer more. Now alK the victims to his lust Living or dead upon him burst. 150 140 150 CANTO TI. 59 In execrations loud, and blaze Their shame and sins before bis gaze. Of all his crimes he sees the whole, That wring with agony the soul ; Who to the grieving spirit cried, Better in hell than be allied ] 60 To a body of foulest crime, Oh come and snap the knot of time ! The spirit troubled all within, And hov'ring o'er the vital spring. Called upon Death it to conjeal, And the supplying fount to seal. Then from the vile polluted shell. And from the blazing human hell. The soul and groaning spirit fled. And Alton lay number'd with th' dead. 170 No acquaintance now long can stay With that disgusting lump of clay : Its foulness is so very strong, Not even love can watch it long. 'Twas a beautiful, perfect whole, This tabernacle of the soul ; 'Twas a palace the tenant wrecked. And built by God, the Architect : Or rather 'twas a temple built For adoration not for gilt. 180 When I behold that body now, With the dew of death on its brow. And with infection on each limb, J hate it while I grieve for him ; For him, the scholar, who had all Endowments manly, ere his fall. H ,»3 i 60 EBLANA. 'Tis now a lifeless body, tense, A personified pestilence. With sightless, flaring eyes and vague : A beautiful imbodied plague : 190 A personated angel ruined : A corpse, but one disgusting wound : A faithful image of decay : A fast dissolving mass of clay. Corruption near the grave and warm, And fleshed and of a human form ; Putrefaction stretched in the tomb. Shaped out a man and in its bloom. Such appear the remains to be Of the soul of that body free : 200 A soul that faculties possessed, All works of art to know or test ; But which when they were displayed, A captive of their keeper made, And executioners became Upon the body of the same. A sentient thing unto life born. That saw but a ray of the morn ; That to eternity belonged — A never dying creature wronged, 210 And by itself abused and shamed. Denounced by Heaven and then arraigned : An immortal soul guilty, sent To everlasting banishment : A dread eternal spirit bright. And of almost creative might. On whom damnation is pronounced, By Heaven's inhabitants renounced ; CANTO YI. 61 Rejected, disowned, from them hurled, Like a lost planetury world, 220 Tost in the vast and boundless space. Seeking in vain a hiding place From the Great God's avenging frown, Pursued by it and speeding down To the dark regions of desi)air. With the unutterable air Of a tortured fiend and accurst. On whom furiously has burst The overwhelming wrath outpoured. And endlesslv to be endured 230 For its willed and provoking sin : A conflagration is within Whose fury never can be spent. Whose rage combined Archangel's strength, For but a moment can arrest : It burns for ever in his breast. Inflamed eternally by the Lamb, The outraged Emmanuel 1 Am. Such may have been the wretched fate Of that poor soul in such a state. 240 liH CANTO VII. I'lioRo scenes of mis'ry me have tired, Altho' repulsive, they're required. When seen, to speaic of them the truth ; Tlu'v may deter perhaps a youth, Prepared this path of vice to run : By signal posts we danger shun. Thoughtless girls they may also teach. When with eager hands they would reach And pluck down the forbidden fruit. Flattered to it by tempting youth. They may apprise them ere too late Of the shame and death that await. As the dessert of such repast — Sweet to the taste but gall ere past. From pictures such, 1 gladly go, A different one I see and know : The characters that there appear Cannot the eye or spirit cheer ; They're roughly drawn I must admit, And for connoisseurs most unfit. A tavern or public house I scan. And at the bar there sits a man ; What's his discourse I can't make out, He seems to hold a pint of stout. His forehead broad, half frenzied eyes, That glare like comets and surprise ; 10 20 111 CANTO Til. 63 His elbowless and faded coat, Denote a drunkard or a poet. Let mein'ry to his dwelling hie, And take from it a hue or die 30 Of life's minutest tilaments, And ':•■!■ S 4 I Do most eloquently declare A very warm debate was there. They wash themselves and lawgh, and then Thev 'all shake hands and drink afeain. 190 The tinkers busy at their trade, Repair pots, pans and tins decayed. With pitchers, broken delf and crocks. Snuffers, fenders, old keys and locks. Pewter pints, sconces and tea-trays. The holes and rents they patch and braze. On they hammer from morn till night. And oft for recreation fight. When alcohol lights on the lip, Ears, tongues and noses then they clip. 200 The cobblers ply their curious art. To mend the sole but not the heart : The cobblers, tinkers, seldom care For the things that want most repair. 'Tis thus in trifles time is spent, By the rich and the indigent. Shoes here of varied size and shape, Imploring to the cobblers gape, With Wellington boots stiff and torn, By lords, by servants, dandies worn. 210 Tinkers, cobblers, their merry wives, With the /oung swarms of both the hives, Driiiking.^ roaring and in fight, Screeching and buzzing with their might ; Cuffing, kissing and half starved, With souls so tender and so hard, <■ All tramping, hamm'ring down despair, Show hearts of Irish oak are there. CANTO VII. 69 Toiling, groping in the dim light, He makes his way to the fourth flight, 220 Where is his hlest, his happy home, The sacred hearth he calls his own, Long as he can the landlord pay Punctually, on each rent day. A sicklv wife of slender form. Blows strong into his ears a storm Of angry words when in he goes, As ha no money to her shows. She was a milliner profest. Who ere she married well had drest, 230 And had been courted but all in vain, By many a haberdashing swain : Shopkeepers of the middle class, And thrifty huxters wooed the lass. None could the damsel's heart inthral, Most cruelly she slighted all ; Tho' they had been of substance good, And most perfectly understood Tiie art or trade I never knew. Out of a penny to make two. 240 She took a flight above such trash, Despised their persons and their cash. To fancy, that had been confined Unto her thimble, she gave wind ; So far it with attention flew. Her needle rusted, thimble too ; Her laces, ribbons caps and thread, Neglected were, when care had t]ed. Fancy returned to tell she'd be Married to a man of degree. 250 10 m 70 EBLANA. Deceived was not the ardent lass, Fancy's prediction came to pass. 'Twas of a summer's eve she went To a tea-party where she spent The happiest liours sfie ever had, With a gay collegian lad. Returning home with her at night. The Milliner he did invite, Her company with him to share, In the new gar<' e^s, Rutland-square, 2C0 On the next eve, and tiiero they met, The world and its cares o fbv uentlomfut they find, To pi'aise with pas > ing word their feet. Or d jwn oast ;:;yes, >r lips so sweet. And li'-ire many a one of the'^ Dear lovely creatures, oft agrees, 290 Gift? from tb?, eonthmen to take. Ef«iTings, necklaces, or sweet cake. Soinetii)ies t: ese maids learn to their cost, Virtue most easily is lost : For kisses given but in fun. Often most serious work have done. 'Twas here the milliner did give Her flutt'ring heart and his receive : Married she was without delay. To the collegian the next day. 300 A genteel youth of blood was he, But no scholar of a degree. Which to obtain he soon forgot — The classics all were sent to pot. His allowances, somewhat bare, Did but support the happy pair. In a furnished rrom of high rent. Where but the honey-moon they spent. He pressing to the father wrote For a twenty or ten pound notn, 310 College expenses to defray-, Tv months at least befor the day. 'I i! father did not send a pound, i ut came to town, ad there he found. 12 EfiLANA. From a friend, how his studious son, For an optime, a girl won ; She a Milliner^ 'twas too bad, Home he went, and without the lad. The father not long after died^ Whose mod'rate income was supplied 320 From a post of honour often sought By gentlemen reduced, and bought. He left him not a single sous. The eldest son claimed all his due. Finances gone, resources drain 'd. Clothes pledged or sold, nought remain'd But to turn out, to turn in where — Aye that's the rub unto the pair. Rich relatives he had, but they 330 To each request growl out a may, Or him ridicule or abuse ; Surely 'twas enough to refuse. I thank my stars 1 have not one Rich relative to call upon When in distress, me to assail. Or nature's blood in me to pale ; To poison, blast, and deflourish, The life he by right should nourish. A place more suited now is found : And here he is rais'd from the ground 340 Floor to a garret dreary^ dull, With white-washed face and broken scull, That gives admission to the rain, And wind, to dry it up again. A place not unfit for him was this. To read Ovid's Metamorphosis. CANTO VII. 7S A smiling youth in college gown, Is changed by time and fortune's frown, To a care-worn man, pale and sad. And indigent and badly clad. 350 Of a greater change the Latin poet, At least of a truer one, ne'er wrote. As Roland to his grief could tell When the wife's storm upon him fell. His children's cries at the same time For food, struck on his heart a chime, Like to that a criminal hears, When the dead bell sounds in his ears. The father gave but scant relief— From his old pocket handkerchief 360 He took a loaf and did divide, By the last shilling 'twas suf^lied ; The wife chid, on the children wept Affliction groaned while pity slept. CANTO ^m. Thou God of we.alth long is thy reign. Upon the earth and on the main ; Almost omnific is thy sway, Oh Plutus o'er the sons of clay. All nations thrt we yet have known, Have worshipped at thy diamond throne And future empires that shall spring. Thee will adore, ob thou great king ! Upon thy throne with jewelled wand. Enrobed in pearls, I see thee stand, And at thy feet, with eye elate, Honour, prime minister of state. No wonder too that thou art proud, When to thy brilliant temple crowd Kings, priests, the wise, the bond and free, All, all run on to worsMp thee, And fight to dip the greedy hand In the bright golden water-?*and. It's no wonder that it they do, When the fiend want does pursue, The demon of the blasting eye, By which his thousands daily di( Beneath whose keen gaze Rolanii lay, Marked out the slow but certain prey. His children, nine, are daughters all, Whom classically he might call 10 20 His cl And 111 Is fun A tab Of ra That Slips Each With Are Si Andf And CANTO viir. 75 Clio, Thalia, Uterpe, Polymnia, Melpomene, Urania, Terpsichore, Etato, and Calliope, 30 All sprung from his Mnemosyne, Now changed into Tisiphone. The garret overhead looks down With gloomy brow, that seems to frown Destruction to the man that dares Mount up the old consumptive stairs ; With no support for either hand. And geometrically planned. A sky-light, like a goliah's eye, Scowls down defiance bold, on high : 40 Hither Roland contrives to creep — Perhaps to study or to weep. n follow just "^0 get a peep, And will write 'own be ore I sleep, Altho' the hour is qjetting late. What I see there, ;oth small and great. His chamber lone, hiejh np and small. And like the prophet's »a the wall. Is furnished with a little stool, A table, candlestick : a pool 50 Of rain water flows near the bed. That is on the dozed flooring spread. Slips of tea-paper that announce, Each held a quarter of an ounce ; With newspapers, many a score. Are scattered on the dusty floor, And filled with poetry and blots. And with numerous finger spots. »*. 76 EBLANA. That partake of the hue of snufT, And of it do smell strong enough. 60 Roland's profession is found out, He is a poet without doubt, And by stern necessity made A man of the poetic trade. A trade the worst of all to follow, W hose gains are disappointment, sorrow : Whose produce for the day or morrow, May stop to beg but not to borrow. Better by far to be a tailor, A tinker, weaver, or a nailor, 70 A sweep, bookseller, coffin-maker. Better by far to be a baker ; He of a crust and cup is sure, His wants, a thousand times are fewer ; He to a joint sits often down, Seldom, a poor poet on the town. Raised above the earth, Roland there, Begins for study to prepare ; Uncoats himself, his stock unbuckles, And hits the table with his knuckles ; 80 As the' summoning in the muse. To get from her the latest news. With eyes half closed and body bent. He writes an ode unto content ; Of themes the worst he could select, Content the poet can't expect To enjoy for many a day, 'Tis twelve years since it ran away. On the face of the lone creature. How dull seems every feature ! 90 T T CANTO VIII. 77 )w : CI , He appears as tho' petrified, Or a pale man marmorified. In the poet's musing atitude, I see none of the fire that shoidd Flame the eye, and dazzle the sight, The face with inspiration light : All is inanimate or still, " Save the slow hand that moves the quill." At the small ode three hours he wrought, Finished without a brilliant thought ; 100 But thirty lines contained the whole Of the outpourings of the soul. An ode to famine, now 's the theme, He wakes as from a troubled dream ; Upon the work see him engage, With a truly poetic rage ; How vivid, noble is the eye. When that devil it does defy. With hurried step the room he walks, To himself loud and fast he talks. 110 Through the bleak realm how fancy strides With courage, inspiration guides. To the old chair he gives a kick. And then knocks down the candlestick The table ricketty, he slaps. As quick imagination raps On judgment's strong and brazen door, To get admission for his store. The whole man is engaged, intent, Urged by the muse all prevalent ; 120 All the poetry of the soul Rolls on in fiood without controul. f if 78 EBLANA. Throbs mightily now his swoln breast : To his side the left hand is prest, And high upwards raised is the right, With parted lips, — 'neath the sky-light, Nature's own poet takes his stand In the attitude of command ; Like Jupiter crowned with a star, Issuing to creation far, 130 Orders and laws that all obey. But only fate, who thunders nav. Poetry now to him is brought, Quick, by emancipated thought. To the fair maid, not long he spoke. For just above his head there broke Water clouds, that made him decamp From the cold garret, bleak and damp. Four dress caps the wife has made. They're trimm'd and border 'd with brocade. 1 40 Twelve shillings they may bring perhaps, Too low the value of such gay caps. So fashionably made, so well ; The poet must take these and sell : The wife can't hawk them through the town. She has no decent cloak or gown. The caps and odes poor Roland takes, And off he sets with heart th •■' .nes : The poet ass-iike cannot tell. How, when or where his goods to sell, 150 At setting sun see him advance, Under the guidance of blind chance, Which to a tavern led the way ; In he goes and with nought to say. To the A cap, She sa Her tii Aglas Is all h Hedri Thepj Anoth< And tc Them If her lhep( For w Butfo Sheth An oy Next Fewc Total She si Thep Tokr Buts Whei Thei The< For i Aba Onp Aqu Toh CANTO Tin. 79 To the fat landlady he shows A cap, whose worth she fully knows. She says the times are very slack ; Her tills are full, silk's on her back. A glass with a few pints of beer, Is all he gets for one cap here. 160 He drinks, and let him drain the cup. The parched soil is near dried up. Another customer comes in. And tosses dow^n a glass of gin ; The men she asks with funny eye, If her sheep trotters they will buy. 1 he poet hands to her a cap, For which she has not got a rap, But for it made five trotters pay ; She then speedily trots away. 170 An oyster wench, a handsome lass, Next arrives and takes a stifi' glass. Few can refuse, she does so coax, To take her oysters and her jokes. She strokes his sleeve and now his hand : The poet puzzled is at a stand To know what is the maid about — But strong temptation got a clout When he produced a cap for sale : The maiden flushed, again was pale. 180 The cap, after some argument, For a dozen of oysters went. A baker's wife, the next arrives, On porter as on bread she thrives ; A quart she drained, then turned about, To her the last cap was held out. 80 EBLANA. t ii She says, as she throws back the head, It is too grand for one so bred ; While she fingers it with surprise And feign'd contempt, but wistful eyes. 190 She bought the cap for a brown loaf, From the poetic pedling oaf. Trotters, oysters, the loaf of bread. He then put up and homewards sped ; Calling on a house where resides A lady rich who oft provides For the poor destitute, but then. She does it to be seen of men : The lady's left hand ever knew What the right was about to do. 200 She is a maid that won no hearts. Is a promoter of the arts And sciences, a patroness Unto all poets in distress ; Particularly to this poet As I truly mean to show it. When the knocker, near down he knocks, A servant grand, the door unlocks, Receives graciously his commands And closed the door, outside he stands 210 Half famished in the drowning rain, But to the clouds he need complain. The servant does as is required. And says an answer is desired. The lady takes the odes and reads. Her cat and lap-dog then she feeds. She reads again and sips her tea. Just to digest the poetry. Ji CANTO VIII. 81 h Js. 190 3cks, A paper next she does peruse, To get the fashions or the news 220 Of the marriages for the week ; For births or deaths she'll seldom seek. On the piano now she plays, Then with the poker makes a blaze, (The night is cold,) her shins to warm : She offers up thanks that the storm On her tender frame does not beat — She forgets the man in the street. She will nor tear the odes nor burn, Nor send an answer in return : 2^0 If comp'ny at her house had met Half a guinea at least he'd get : Receives a sixpence and no more. The petitioner at the door, — Where he stood three hours, what of that — Escorted by her dog and cat. With dignity she goes up stairs. Papers her hair and says her prayers ; Rejoicing in the action done, Of all her works, the secret one. 240 Ah little think the slaves of pride — That glutton never satisfied : Little they think, unpierced by cares. How the heart stricken, lonely, fares. Placed above want, desiring nought On earth that is not quickly brought, By the big mighty hand of wealth. Excepting virtue, love and health. The soul suicides do not think Of their compeers upon the brink 250 ^ 82 £BLANA. «*' ■ ' ■ Of ruin, where destitution drags Thousands ten tho' not clad in rags, More worthy of relief : because They are above the beggar's laws. That hospitality has made By eleemosynary aid. Say what can be the hearts of such, When the fierce fire begins to touch The martyrs calm, that are too proud Life on base terms to be allowed ! 260 The noble feelinfi»s great in those. But soul unto soMi tan disclose ; By looks, not hy words, they're too weak. The spirits of the martyrs speak. But martyrs ;^till thpy are to pride When the Creator is denied. This cheerless one without delay For his last home now makes his way ; While for three coppers he buys tea, And sugar for another three : 270 For three, eggs he buys, not enough, And for the last three, he buys snuff. Who when he gains his attic floor. To the wife, opens out his store. Then angry justice did permit The tempest on her brow to sit. Their joint day's work with main and might, Gave but a supper for the night. For the morn let them take n3 thought, It's cares will come to them unsought. 280 In futurity let them lie, The dreadful future is too nigh. Each g A festc A sho\ A rust Ajar c And p The c( All in Thet? And V She n( Thee Or for Their The k The ^^ The GUste Behol What And^ How Afar Asth Save With Havi Unto Of e His ! The Ash CANTO VIII. 83 eak, 270 light, Each gloomy thought I will discard, A festal board should not be marred. A shovel of coals the cobbler lends, A rusty kettle the tinker sends, A jar of water she can borrow, And pay the weavers on the morrow. The coffin-maker's wife gives a plate, All in a crack'd and broken state, 290 The tailors lend the noseless pot, And wonder how the tea was got. She now mounts up and makes a lire ; The children dance about the sire, Or for the mother sing and smile, Their teeth watering all the while. The kettle gruff begins to sing, The wife to laugh, dejected thing. The odorous fumes strong arise ; Glisten with joy tliC children's eyes. 300 Behold them now devour the meal, What pIpRsure th.^ hearts healthy feel ! And what ii'ihrity is here ! How small the h(por) that oft will cheer A family by want oyi/fttWM^d ! As this one, now retired t/> rest : Save the distracted father, who. With suicidal eye withdrew, Having given his last embrace Unto his wife, and to the face 310 Of each slumbering little dear. His farewell kiss, and scalding tear ; The iron entered to his soul, As he thus left and bless'd the wh^li' ( 84 EBLANA. Then hastily he upwards went, And grasp'd the murd'rous instrument. A corpse he was before the dawn — The knife across his throat was drawn. m With I Mem'r Of mo From To a I Where Love With If the For it In a c I am ' Ther Then From Tolo rilw Who Thee Look Abu Afal If a( The Attl Fron ». CANTO IX. With bleeding wing, disordered plume, Mem'ry spirit bird flies the gloom Of mourning, poverty and woe ; From whose abode I let her go. To a mansion of the great, Where riches surely must create Love and peace, and content and joy. With no particle of alloy. If there, happiness can't be found — For it I must look under ground : 10 In a cellar I may meet it, I am waiting long to greet it. The man that has it, Pll respect : The maid that knows it, I'll select From all the maids I ever knew, To love, admire and honour too ; I'll worship her not as the French, Who adored a notorious wench. The edifice I now survey. Looks splendid, flaunt, and proud and gay, 20 A building of a noble mien, A fabric suited for a queen ; If a queen willed here to reside— The grandeur is so great inside. At the hall door is a sedan, From which limps out a gouty man ; 86 EBLANA. JJeeply care-furrowed is the face Of the noble lord of the place. As he goes in, a coach and four Furiously approach the door ; 20 A lady middle aged and stout, And her sweet daughter fair, drop out, With her brother, the sole male neir. Of the gouty lord that is there. The father, mother, daughter, son, AH with hearts most discordant come. To the splendid large drawing room, Eichly carved, and breathing perfume : If trouble black can make these sad. Where can bright happiness be had. 40 The silence tirst the father breaks. And coughs painfully as he speaks ; Now from the son, hear him demand In tones paternal, of command',. How he durst foolishly presume To refuse the rich lady, whom He wisely destined for his bride, And who so nobly was allied. The son replies, " she is too old. And her noble blood is too cold ; 50 A commoner's daughter. Sir, will do, Tho' not rich, she's young and pretty too ; She has my word, then come what will, That word to her I must fidtil." Now on the father's face is found A rainbow hue that clouds surround ;^ Suddenly, quick up to ihe nose. The gout from his big toe arose, CANTO IX. 87 As tlio' 'twas stung and made to smart By pride, the viper on the heart. On the dame's face there's also seen^ A raging sea's dark blue and green, Commingling, waving, driving on, By the loud roaring tempest strong; Both on the son with anger flew, Who from the hurricane withdrew. The daughter now receives her share Of tender and parental care ; Questioned she is by her mamma. And cross-examined by he pa. Why she the Marquis wouid not wed. Or why she loved an army bred Officer, whose sword and whose kit. Made an equipage most unfit. Fifty winters the lord had seen : 1 he lovely damsel was eighteen : The handsome officer, and young, In twenty summers up had sprung : His budding honour was as bright. As the sword he'd wield in the fight, When summoned by his country's laws, To battle in their sacred cause. The lord, Matilda will not choose ; The father, mother, now abuse. Coax and threaten, and reprimand, Caress and brow-beat, and command ; They maltreat her and cajole. Firm in the purpose of her soul. The maid endeavours to sustain Upon her heart the load of pain i 60 70. 80 90 *•».■'■ 88 EBLANA. And struggles to prevent, oppose, What tV- / would cruelly impose. What can she do ? will she persist ? Their entreaties can she resist ? Their menaces can she endure, Can nought her terrify, or allure ? In the attack they persevere, She has not one to interfere ; There's no commisserating eye. And no friend, and no saviour nigh. 100 Ships, wars elemental strand : A woman frail, can she withstand. The stormy tongues that her assail ? Say can she weather out the gale ? The mother is to her most dear ; The father too she does revere. All her sobs and tears, and her wail. With the parents Ccninot prevail. Youthful, dutiful, aod cievout. What can the maiden be about ? 110 The combat why does she prolong ? When all her claims are proved wrong. 'Tis love, the first love of the heart, Which woman but with death will part, That nerves the creature to sustain. The mountain hot of fiercest pain. 'Tis the first love of woman's soul. Which not e'en herself can controul ; And which nor perfidy, nor hate. Can from her heart obliterate. 120 'Tis rooted there, whole in each part, In all the fragments of the heart. By perji ^ nd all Siiite it Till dea 'Tis the By the i When a But one Of all I In Para Matilda And th( Young On an < As soot The frc With a So opp' The fai Leaves Thedi A bell It give When The fa And t£ Tho'£ And g Fish, Thee Dump Blanc t ANTO IX. 89 By perjury and anguish torn, i*. nd all disconsolate and lorn. Smite it with blight, cannot despair, Till death it grows and blossoms there. 'Tis the love to the man display'd By the first woman that was made : When as she rose up from the ground But one man in the gardeii found. 130 Of all her love he had the first, In Paradise and when accurst. Matilda's love just such I call. And the officer had it all. Young love in vain would try to rest On an old apathetic breast, As soon congenially might The frosted icicle unite With a bright burning coal of fire : So opposed is young and old desire. 140 The faithful girl griev'd and depress'd. Leaves the astonish'd parents vexed. The dinner-bell sounds in the ear, A bell I always like to hear. It gives sensations of delight When I hear it, but not at night. The family at the table meet. And take their places, not to eat, Tho' all is seen that can invite And give edge to blunt appetite. 150 Fish, flesh, and fowl of varied kind, The choicest luxury can find ; Dumplings, puddings, tarts, custards, pies, Blanch-mange and sweet wines tempt the eyes p •■m IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /. ^/ /- r/ '^> 1.0 I.I 11.25 ■- IIIIM ■ 50 ""I^S ^ tiS, IM IM 1.8 U nil 1.6 V <^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14;>90 (716) 872-4503 90 EBLANAi In vain, of each sad or angry face : They can neither eat, nor say grace. Cold etiquette alone is there, Where fondness, smiling looks should wear ; Where parental love should have been, There is disunion and chagrin. 160 Draw near ye poor, yourselves apply Unto the bountiful supply ; Come let you eat and drink until You have of ev'ry good your fill. I'd let you eat and drink away, Of fare sumptuous ev'ry day. Was it in my power — but alas. All I can give you is a glass Of water cold, which never can Content, appease a hungry man. 170 Would you have of this lordlv board. With viands in profusion stored. On these conditions, very queer ? You should not touch a morsel here, Until first your hearts you exchanged. With the family here arranged. But few of you I think indeed. To the conditions would accede. Perhaps a Roland might agree. Impelled by mortal agony. 180 Give me but a contented mind ; From fellow man a word that's kind ; Give me the crust that I can earn For ev'ry day, I will not yearn After the rich man's goods, for they Too often set the soul astray. CANTO IX. SI |ear ; 160 no And produce cares that equipoise All his sublunary light joys. If rich men's hearts the poor could see, Fully contented they might be. 190 But not contented do appear, The rich, noble family here : In the dark stilly hours of rest, Doubts, fears and pains are in each breast. The gout, the noble lord has caught. Perhaps by dissipation brought ; Gout, him confines and racks with pain ; The perspiration drops like rain. He turns and writhes upon a bed. Curtained, canopied overhead 200 With rich damasks, fine silks and lawn : There he tosses until the dawn Of morn, restless, his pains increased By those who should torment him least. Better to be a beggar, than This great and tortured nobleman ; Better the poorest wretch in health, Than this proud lord of so much wealth ; Better to sleep down in a ditch. Than to bed like him and be rich. 210 Better for life to beg for bread, And with no place to lay the head ; And better a wanderer too. In foreign lands without a sous, Without resources, and without A friend, on the world a cast-out. Better to be all, than be him. In soul contorted and in limb ; M 92 EBLANA. Whose children rebels, now are wont To point the pains that they should blunt. 220 They can't help ; nature would allay His griefs, but not his voice obey. Then too, pains of the heart afflict, Where duty stern and love conflict ; A match unequal to be sure. For cuffs many, love can endure. And struggle stout to gain the field By faith sacred, sworn not to yield. In Matilda it won the day ; The Ensign with her ran away, 230 While o'er them expectation bright Hovered, to perch, and then took flight. Promotion scant the soldier got : Black disappointment was his lot. A family large now surround The dying husband, father, found Stretched on a pallet made of straw ; A meaner one I never saw. Nor one so ill supplied with clothes. Tis too unseemly I suppose, 240 An officer there should repose. In peaceful life, and at the close Of his once promising career. To the dying man I draw near, (Labouring the tears to repel,) To take of him my last farewell. The countenance, of Grecian cast. Is military to the last, Tho' misery, care, grief and pain, On it for tedious months have lain. 250 At his A Gun And ot For th( For hii A regi His w Dida\ Thecl Stren§ He ra And s One o Of El Of th They Couri Asb^ .220 230 CANTO IX. 93 At his bed the atHicted kneel. A Curate dees tlie book unseal, And offer up devoutly there, For the sick officer a prayer, For him who won but honour's wreath.- - A regiment marching underneath His window, with its tramp abrupt. Did awhile the prayer interrupt. The cheering tones of music lent Strength to the dying Lieutenant : 260 He raised himself upon the bed. And soldier-like held up his head. One of the stirring martial airs Of England, mingled with the prayers Of the minister, now he hears ; They were the last sound in his ears. ^ Courage and love his eye-balls lit, As bv victor death he was smit. 240 OK 50 I H CANTO X. Upon affliction's wretclied bed, How changed is that soldier dead ; } How altered he appears to be, From himself, in war's panoply ! Almost better that he had lain, Upon the field of glory slain. Then heavy cares would not him bow. Nor burning thoughts have sear'd his brow ; Nor have oppress'd and deeper mark'd Of his poor family, each heart ; 10 Of fickle fortune now the sport ; Who will protect or it support ? The Curate alone is their resource : To him alone they have recourse For the pittance, life to sustain, And which he gives and gets again What no earthly power can suppress, A lasting, holy happiness. Untrumpetted he goes about. Poverty and pain to seek out, 20 Which abound in every street, But seldom aid or pity meet. With but one hundred pounds a year, The ' man of Ross' scarce is his peej. How great the good he does to all. That for relief upon him call. Of tha Fifty p In his < Fifty f With] He's a Ah lit Of th( Of the In po\ Unrec Andt Ere ft Had I Tool' With I Ofal Bvd By Can' Poss( The} Whi HoM Sole The A Got Thi Am Hir B« CANTO X. 95 •ow ; 10 20 Of that salary he lays bye Fifty pounds, that idle, long to lie In his coffers are not decreed : Fifty families are relieved. 30 With kind words he does them console, He's a physician of the soul. Ah little think the wealthy great, Of the bitter heart-rending fate Of those that are of friends bereft, In poverty and sickness left : Unrecognised in indigence ; And that perhaps had opulence. Ere fell misfortune without call, Had battered down the brazen wall. 40 Too little think the haughty proud, With superfluous wealth endowed. Of all the evils that are loosed, By distress, and superinduced By events over which the soul. Can't stretch her vision of controul. Possessing all that wealth can give, They little think, or scarce believe Whom superabundance cannot fill, How small's the gratuity that will 60 Solace and succour, and maintain, The heart in poverty and pain. A contribution of ten pounds, Got by the Curate in his rounds. This family from death has saved, And buried the man that had braved Him, in many fights, many a storm, But could not brave him in the form 96 EBLANA. 1 1 H. !!f Of poverty. I here declare, My last shilling 1 will not spare, 60 When I see a soldier poor, in want. The brave heart poverty must not daunt. But if he's dead, then for his sake. Of the boon the wife shall partake. And why ? a soldier's son am I, This is my reason and reply. But not the Curate's, I am sure : Alike to him are all the poor ; Discrimination nought he makes ; Each of them equally partakes 70 Of all his wealth, alike receives. Grateful, the blessings that he breathes. The man, may fortune not forget ! Oh may he be a bishop yet ! A head more meritorious ne'er. Did the prelatic mitre wear. Its descent long would'nt be delay'd. If an archbishop I was made. But I nor covet nor desire. To be so blest : nor do aspire 80 To the honours, emoluments Of those Memory represents, A levee going to attend. In hacks and coaches without end. Slow the procession winds its way To the castle ; but outside may Spectators stand to hoot or cheer, The vehicles advancing near. Now the regal lord lieutenant, Receives not his parliament : 90 It, bis tv^ Until th( Britanni The que He grac Archbisl Bishops Gen'raU Judges, And fro The fell I see mi These I Particu There ^ A good A few To fly The w Before He sm And si Others From An ass It seer A smi A con Then Who Had I Andt CANTO X. 97 It, his two eyes shall not behold, gQ Until the days, as I am told, Britannia sfiall cease to reign The queen dominant of the main. He graciously receives, I say. Archbishops venerably grey. Bishops and lords, both high and low, Gen'rals and officers also ; Judges, with lawyers too, I see. And from-the university, 100 The fellows, with their grave proctor ; »7Q I see many a pale doctor — These last indeed, may be well allow'd, Particularly in such a crowd. There go deans, merchants, and again, A good sprinkling of clergymen : A few shop-keepers, too, contrive. To fly with the swarm to the hive. The wise, the rich, the great of the land. Before the vice-regal ruler stand. 110 He smiles as they do lowly bow, gQ And slowly pass on, to allow Others, as humbly they advance. From him to get a smile or glance. An assembly most brilliant this : It seems to enjoy perfect bliss. A smile every face has got, A compliment each tongue has caught, The man to flatter or caress, Who fills the chair of happiness. 120 Had I an eye their hearts to ken, 90 And the recording Angel's pen, m\ d8 EBLANA. I'd write a book that would instruct Better than novels, that conduct Unto the heart at which they peep, But pierce not its recesses deep. Proof against each deceptive look, I would write for the world a book, That infallibly would embrace Each secret, veiled by ev'ry face, 130 Of envy, jealousy and hate. Which no good man could contemplate. Or survey not half of the whole Without humility of soul. Secrets that never should— shut no, — The levee is dismissed ; all go To the carriages, coaches, hacks. The drivers with oaths and loud whacks. Force the horses ' to get along' Through the dense and opposing throng. 140 Now through the streets the horses rush. And the passengers, daub or brush With puddle, who can only curse. Or bless themselves it is no worse. The heavens roar, the black clouds teem. The horses plunge, the women scream. Now Essex bridge in^^essant groans. And Carlisle bridge takes up the tones. The Queen's, too, chimes in with the rest. And bloody bridge with consumptive chest. 150 Crazy windows take up the song ; While tiles and slates are blown upon Some unhoused and unhappy wight — On a rich one they seldom light. Thefl( Is spla Tobla Shortb •I Ladies These Apple Their i Cake 1 Ballad Shoe-b Jades, Fish-w Pie cri Are m( Hawk< Confuj And u Most ( To the Them! That Flamil That They That Drai Theirl NottI It is Heah Bet^ CANTO X. 99 130 :• 140 h m, JSt, St. 150 The floods of rain r w lutulent, Is splashed on ev'ry side, or sent To black wash the poor scavengers. Shortly coaches and passengers, Ladies and dandies disappear ; These more than those the showers fear. 160 Apple women fly like the wind. Their slippers clapping smart behind ; Cake venders, show-men, and likewise Ballad singers, grinders of knifes, Shoe-blacks, cobblers that have no stall, Jades, that cabbages loudly bawl ; Fish-women, whose fish now might swim, Pie criers, whose pies to the brim. Are more filled with rain than with meat, Hawkers, cripples, take to their feet ; 170 Confusion in the city reigns And uproar " bothers" all its brains. Most of those trudge on, run and hie, To the public houses to dry Themselves by the bright big coal fires. That in them kindle new desires. Flaming desires, but half supprest. That smolder to consume the breast : They think it right, the outside wet. That the inside a drop should get. ISO Dram after dram swift irrigates Their hearts, while reason moderates Not the fierce scalding rising flood. It is said that the human blood Healthy and unimpeded flows Between two currents that oppose. N 100 SBLANA. Whether such be the case or not, I cannot tell, nor care a jot ; Let profoiKid doctors if they list, Or some wise pharmacopolist, 190 Unbiased by the Mathewites, Judge for the brandy appetites. That now do appear to possess The crown of virtue, happiness. But hear them scold and see them fight ! Bah ! I turn away from the sight. In taverns liappiness is not ; It may be in a cellar got. I'll enter one and search it well, To trv if those that there do dwell 200 Have got it, good ! I will be bound Ne'er again to live overground. A goodly cellar I espy. That's to the under house an eye ; Two sign boards here salute that eye, Upon one is " good lodgings dry," On the other a round of beef Is painted out in bold relief ; The damask rosy coloured meat Allures, the passengers to eat. 210 The top flag or first step is found With a basket of wet greens crown'd, On which all sickly and decayed. Rests a sieve of eggs two months laid. Soup, pigs' legs and leeks are below, With onions, herrings neat in row. Some jovial souls below appear, Very intent upon their cheer. Four ba Songste By day Here tl On 8cai Sugar, The thi And m A spec That ci Toren To the These Deterr Attacli There' Unitec On mj In fell Salt-h With Herri Whal 'Twe Apol Nor Injol Say It mi Hon Ath She CANTO Zc 101 Four ballad singers loud rejoice^ Songsters of ev'ry tone of voice^ 220 By day, the city they delight^ J 90 Here they rejoice themsehes by night On ^ca^/ieen— that^s boiled whisky, which Sugar, butter, and spice enrich. The throat it mellows, sweet they say, And makes the lunga more freely play : A specimeri of which they show That can't be doubted, here below. To render justice each one means. To the fat bacon and the greens. 230 The screeching rashers on the pan, 200 Determinedly ev'ry man Attacks, swallows and drowns in beer : There's no reserve nor shyness here ; United, of one sentiment, On mastication they're intent. In fellowship all swallow fast. Salt-herrings finish the repast, With toughest ling ten times as salt- Herrings and ling now swim in malt. 240 What a fine contrast here I see, 210 'Tween these and the lord's family : Apollo's sons now sing and drink. Nor of their toils a moment think ; In jollity, cares are forgot. Say can happiness here be got ? It might— had not the master come Home drunk, and noisy as a drum. At his good woman first he flies. She scratches in defence, his eyes. 250 102 EBLANA. lit i He tears her cap and kicks her sound, What a hubbub is under ground ! Such sport cannot for life be missed By each drunken sweet vocalist. The ballad singers join the strife, And like gentlemen back the wife. it is an Irishman's delight, For the sake of the fun to fight. A wooden leg one does unstrap, And gives the husband many a rap ; 260 Another drunker still, and blind. The sieve of eggs by chance does find ; He whirls it round his head and squalls. The eggs fly out and daub the walls. Or soil the beds, while each one hides From the circle that he describes. The combatants avoid or flee The dangerous proximity. Another drunken vocalist. The strong temptation can't resist ; 270 He has no arms, yet takes a part. If not with hand, at least with heart ; Conspicuous he's in the fight, Lustily he can kick and bite. So drunk is the remaining one. He hasn't a leg to stand upon. In a tub of suds down he's thrown And he snorts like a porpoise blown ; He sings, well moistened with the souce, " There is na luck about the house." 280 With prowess and with main and might Long do the fuddled champions fight. They st( Till bla< Fatigue They cs But the And w( Did nol To dra> And no They n Heedle They s In coar Fit to j Sheets Times Like t And s] But sc Oft to Or lui With CANTO X. 103 260 270 They stop for breath, the figlit's renewed, Till blackened, blooded too, and blued. Fatigue near spent breaks up the match, They can nor kick nor bite nor scratch : But they can drink a little more. And would again fight as before. Did not peace maker sleep advance To draw off the drunk combatants. 290 And now they soundly snore as tho' They neither gave nor got a blow. Heedless, oblivious of the past, They snore away, (in peace at last,) In coarse black canvass sheets and ^ump, Fit to give a rheumatic cramp. Sheets that may havt been washed but four Times annually and not more : Like those in many a hotel. And sprinkled weekly, ironed well ; 300 But scenting rarely soap, and which Oft to travellers give the itch Or lumbago, for p keepsake, With other things I'd fain not take. CANTO XL The inmates now with blushing mom^ Begin their persons to adorn ; 'Mong whom there's none so busy there As the mistress with clotted hair, Swoln eyes and lips, and dotted face ; The night spots she tries to efface. She then displays her greens and store Of eatables, all bruised sore. Her eggless sieve she loud laments ; The eyeless man too late repents. Sorry they're all when 'tis too late : Thus with a kingdom oi a state : Broils are begun and war is waged ; To fight to the death they're engaged.. Then when the battle fierce is o'er, After thousands lie in their gore. The kingdom proud or boasting state Laments the cause of all their hate. This cellar drunken row I'm sure Of war is a miniature. A miniature of apery. In the cellar-woman too 1 see : She wears a flashy gown of red, Like the baker's wife overhead. The baker 'is wife just imitates The rich grocer's wife that she hates. 10 20 The gro The ine Theme From tl Not to i The jud The jud From tl The du In fashi Her lip Identic Thedu Gets fr Thebp And fr A life By fee From Thek By fas Has b But i\ AndV Yet aj Is foil Amor Whos The^ Ong Whil Atbs CANTO XI. 105 10 20 The grocer's wife presumes to ape The merchant's wife in gown and shape. The merchant's wife the pattern gets From the lawyer's wife, who forgets 30 Not to copy unto the pin, The judge's wife in every thing. The judge's wife the model takes From the earl's wife, who ever makes The duke's great wife her archetype In fashion, and who will not wipe Her lips, nor clean her nose, without Identic hue of rag or clout. The duke's wife by some lucky chance, Gets from a tailor's wife in France, 40 The specimen that all follow And from one another borrow. A life of apery is led By feet, by body, and by head, From the grand duchess down unto The kitchen maid, whom lackeys woo ; By fashion all are swayed, that oft. Has been fashioned out in a loft. But the fashion of doing good, And known by all and understood, 60 Yet as tho' it they never knew, Is followed but by very few. Among the few is Caroline, Whose gems in darkness brighter shine ; The gems of love and mercy bright On gloomy want that fling their light. While many ladies take their sport At balls, masquerades, and the court ; 106 EBLANA. ! ) At rouge et noir^ cards, dominos, At horse racing and the Lord knows 60 At how many things, they're so great, One half I can't enumerate. — Lady Caroline ev'ry day Does visits to the wretched pay ; She for the broken hearted feels. And she the broken hearted heals. She deems poverty no reproach, Nor spurns it from her door or porch. She clothes, she feeds, she gives advice. And all she thinks that can suffice 70 The miserable soul to joy. Which but for her want might destroy. She gives but to obtain the more ; She parts, but for a richer store ; She helps, succour divine to get, From one who ne'er deserted yet. She bends the lower, to mount up higher ; Earth's her home, but heaven's her desire. Her alms unblazoned and unheard. In Heaven's high court are registered, 80 And by the hand of Charity, Before the throne of Majesty, Surrounded by Archangels veiled. Angels, Saints, Martyrs that prevailed O'er the terrors of burning death. And who defied its fiery breath. All hear from the eternal throne The word before creation known ; The voice of Great Jehovah's son, Which fills the Heav'ns, saying. Well done 90 CANTO XI, 107 60 70 re. 80 ne90 Thou good and faithful servant, thou Hast laid up thy treasure now, Which nor moth nor rust shall destroy, Which after death thou shalt enjoy. What treasures after death shall grain The man, whom Memory would fain Not present to the public view — But I must give each one his due. And there he is, retired at night. In a closet, where the faint light 100 Of a half-penny candle, just Shows him his heap of yellow dust : And by it he can dimly trace The old furniture of the place, Which comprises a musty chest, A flock-bed and it vilely drest ; A superannuated chair, And a table antique, that there Boasts of a jug of water cold. With a brown loaf all full of mould, 1 10 And difficult to masticate : A staler loaf could not be eat. Or exhibited to the sight, By the artful Gibeonite. Beside the loaf the Miser stands. On which he places both his hands ; Then draws back, as if afraid, To plunge in it the rusty blade. Now he advances, now recedes. His heart for what he must do, bleeds. 120 He vowed from the loaf to refri^in His jaws, until starvation Came. O 108 EISLANA. •I Famishing want threatening now, Compels him to perform his vow. With trembling hands he seems to touch That loaf, with sorrow too as much As was by Jephtha once displayed. When he would sacrifice the maid. The Miser giving it a hug, Hacks off a piece, then in the jug 130 Of water for hours it he steeps, At which he sorrowfully peeps. The loaf diminished he surveys. Which on his hand he often weighs. And views with anguish and affright, That it, alas, should be so light. With scraggy face and lynxean eye. That ne'er was raised to the Most High, In rags, a beggar might discard. Which hang on limbs all shrunk and starv'd, 140 At the old chest, behold him there. In the meek attitude of prayer. But he kneels untired to count o'er. His idolized and golden store. Ten times he counts, and ten times more, Till the bones of his knees are sore. All he grieves for there should be lost, A candle that such money cost. He loads himself with yellow clay. That wings itself and flies away. 150 Oft out of his affrighted sleeps Timidly unto it he creeps ; Timorously he feels the whole. To ascertain if aught be stole. CANTO XI. 109 130 All the nocturnal sounds he hears, Are depredators in his ears. A watch the wretch must ever keep, By day, by night in troubled sleep ; Neither peace he enjoys nor rest, Disquietude is in his breast. ^ 160 And yet the miser well does know, In other veins his blood does'nt flow : If it did, 'tis no reason yet. Why he, should thus himself forget. With few ties to the world, unknown. Some needy relatives alone, He has, full of good nature ! they For his death most devoutly pray, A housekeeper upon him waits, A servant of all work, that hates 170 A breakfast, dinner, hot to see. In niggardliness they agree. She's more unkind and surly too, Than the famed witch of Endor, who, Killed a fat calf, perhaps her best. To entertain her royal guest. The housekeeper oft represents. To the miser all his expense In fuel, soap, and candle-light, In Sunday dinners, that are quite 180 A treat, and not to be forgot. They are so savoury and hot. Kank lard, a hard crust, and a leek, A pinch of salt and a lean steak, The cheapest, coarsest carrion meat That butchers sell or dogs do eat, 110 EBLANA. il Make up a dinner stint and stale, All whose expense she would curtail. Her thriftiness the miser lauds : Cursed is the butcher that defrauds. 190 He rails loud at the chandler too, So dear his candles, not his blue. The coal merchant he does not spare ; The milk man comes in for his share. With imprecations too he speaks Of the woman that cried the ieeks, Of the baker, of ev'ry one To whom his cash, tho' small, had gone. Such profusion he's griev'd to see ! The housekeeper's prodigality 200 He ill rewards, by adding still Another thousand to the will. She's heiress to most of his pelf. For famishing him and herself. I would'nt be as that cursed man, For all the wealth the Andes can Disembowel, no, not for all That sparkles on or in this ball Of earth — possessor of the whole, I would'nt be with that miser's soul : 210 Whose troubled mind I would not take With an archangel's might and make : Nor tho' throughout creation sent. Heaven's acknowledged vicegerent. The supreme honour I'd refuse, And with humility would choose The lowest rank of life to fill. With a mind at peace, and a will That coi Do to m How gr That I r Should 1 A blessi And up< Proud ] Henson May trj To Brit Her na The Ri Pounce Upon t Of the The Pi Now li The Y Withe Notes The la Then Bright With And r Those Will They' Wont The! Like CANTO XI. Ill That could love, and that ever could, ' Do to my fellow man some good. 220 How great the good that man may do, 190 That I read of and never knew. Should he succeed in his great plan, A blessing 'twill confer on man, And upon none so much as thee, Proud England, Regent of the sea. Henson, thy aeronautic car. May transport nations from afar. To Britain's now defenceless shore. Her navy can't avail her more. 230 The Russ, high in the dir above, 200 Pounces, like a hawk on a dove, Upon the unprotected breast Of the queen island of the West. The Prussians, Austrians, the French, Now her long acquired treasures wrench. The Yankees propelled through the air. With eagle wing, souse swiftly there. Not calculating o'er the prey. The ladies fair they bear away. 240 Then Ireland too in aerial car. Bright England, will thy beauty mar : With indignation she will come, And mercilessly kick thy bum. Those infidels, the Turkish dogs, Will take thy wives, but not thy hogs. They're for the Cossac, who alas. Wont leave in thee a blade of grass. The North and South, the West and East, Like birds of prey, speed to the feast. 250 112 SBLANA. |M Magnificient London, sad art thou, In thy dreadful visitation now. Utter destruction is thy doom ! Thou art but one capacious tomb ! In evil hour is come on thee, Jerusalem calamity ! Thy honourable of the earth, Do hear no more the laugh of mirth ; For evermore in thee is mute, The bag-pipes, fiddle and the flute. 260 Thy brothels and thy taverns now, No dancer hear or drunken row. Newgate's strong chains forbear to clank. In the dark dreary dungeons dank. The guardian Angel of Bow-street, Has taken to his wings or feet. Police, unmindful of their trust, Now let their shining buttons rust. No jolly sailor here is seen, Chanting, " Were you in Aberdeen." 270 Coal-porters now, with heavy load. Don't whip their horses, and don't goad. No more poor lads, you'll swallow down, White bread and cheese, and porter brown. Thy dandy slim and sleek fair belle, I For slaves, the Southern States now sell. Thy lordly sons with white small hands. Now sink canals in foreign lands. Thy ladies drest in coarsest stuff. Sell tripes, tobacco, fish and snuff ; 280 See them in Boston and New York, Cry oysters, and spruce beer uncork. Thy judg With eac Toil in t! Knee de< Thy mer Are becj Lord Br Stern St With loi Potatoes Whilst t Grey stc Oh Lon< That sni That toj Where | Poor B A fata Shroud Now In the A big Whils The w With He wc A viei Andt Shade Near If you 'Twil s It CANTO XI. 113 ik, Thy judges, senators elite, With each proud lord and courtly knight, Toil in the Mississippi's flood, Knee deep they shovel up the mud. Thy merchants too, bowed down with cares, Are became pedlars of small wares. Lord Brougham, Wellington and Peel, Stern Stanley, opposed to repeal, 290 With lord Lyndhurst, in robes and wig, 260 Potatoes now in Kerry dig. Whilst the poor Queen, knits as she begs. Grey stockings for O'Connel's legs. Oh London, is it come to this. That snakes should in thy bosom hiss ! That toads and lizards should be found. Where art and beauty did abound ! Poor Billingsgate is kicked out hence, A fatal kick to eloquence ! 300 Shrouded is the face of St. Giles, 270 Now smoke and sut shade all her smiles. In the House of Commons do not stare, A big rat now fills the speaker's chair ! Whilst in the other august house, The woolsack glories in a mouse ! With cocked up tail, erect the head, He wonders where the lords have fled. A view I now take of St. Pauls ; And there the loathsome reptile crawls. 310 Shades cenotaphed or not arise, 280 Near a gen'ral the reptile lies ; If you don't put it forth without, 'Twill crawl into the gen'ral's mouth. I. m, iwn. II. 114 KBLANA* My fancy, iii^>. Westminster shocks, It is so full of worms and clocks, fwuuld be disgusting more to say, TI '^ spueamish muse now flies away. With desolation on thy brow, London thou art but ruins now ! All left of thee beneath the sun, Is as tlie corpse of Babylon ! 320 Oh fane Why do With th An^ ?^'> Like a Indigna And no Swift t When Laid d And ju On his Then^ Untot Whos( Brighi From Wasl A bar iliid i Fair And Aloe Bute Prof< Ast CANTO XII. 320 Oh fancy dea • tliou giddy thing, Why do 'j o i uiiib io oft take wing ? With thf^ tjrod muse why dost thou roam, Anf^ >' far away from thy home ? Liku a king, captive, wrung with pain, Indignant thou dost shake the chain : And now, by chance no guard before, Swift thou hast burst the prison door. When Reason, monarch of the mind, Laid down his crown repose to find ; And judgment pestered all the day. On his tribunal sleeping lay : Then Fancy rapidly took flight. Unto that spirit of the night, Whose province it is to command. Bright lovely dreams of fairy land. From it to me, a dream unsought. Was by the joyful rambler brought. A bard descended from the sky iiijd stood before the mental eye : Fair was his face but pale and sad. And glorious was the eye he had ; A look of grandeur had his mien. But discontent in him was seen. Profoundest aw<" b) me was felt As to the spirit bard I knelt. 10 20 116 EBLANA. 'Twas Poetry's own darling child, Who had on him so sweetly smiled, And gave to him so large a share (3f her maternal sleepless care. 30 'Twas in the hours of gloomy night She nurtured him and with delight, Until he was entranced ; and then He sung her sweetest songs to men In vain, when his harsh critics say, Scarcely original is a lay. 'I hey declare, and perhaps with truth, He was a deist in his youth ; And critically ihey decide, A deist the unhappy died. 40 And England also thought the same, When closed the temple of her fame Against his dust, and then she said, " Here only lie — the righteous dead." Grief-slaughtered and ill used bard ! Thee from thy fame thy foes would discard. Alive, harsh things of thee they said. And harsher things of thee, when dead. " He was a deist," That's the rub ; So was Swift when he hooped his tub : So was blind Homer begging bread, And so was Virgil, courtly fed. 50 " He was a plagiarist I wot," And of modern bards who is not ? His poems, if we except the rhyme. Have the beautiful and sublime ; A loose thought in them oft is found, Iiike a weed in luxuriant ground. Pluck if But don' Yes, By Of Milt The grei Have ei In garn In whi( But By Made i 'Tis m Thefi§ '' He f u Grig True, The WhiU The I Poeti' And May And It ha uTl A n By Sue Hac Ha Th Pe Co CANTO XII. 117 30 40 J. 50 Pluck if you dare the noxious weed, But don't uproot the precious sted. Yes, Byron stands the proud compeer Of Milton, Tasso and Shakespeare. 60 The greatest diff'rence is, that tiiese Have enrobed their best ideas In garments long, of seemly cost. In which the shape is nearly lost ; But Byron's dress is rich and light. Made nor too loose nor yet too tight ; 'Tis made to fit so trim and well, The figure 's seen and has the spell. " He filch 'd at times," they say, " a thought " Original the bard was not." 70 True, he put a splendid vesture on, The offiliated skeleton ; While beneath his paternal care. The bastard thing grew plump and fair. Poetic thoughts sublimely pure, And original, I am sure May be thirty, since Virgil's days. And ten of these claim Byron's lays. It has been said bv Solomon, " There's nothing new beneath the sun." 80 A new idea I'll attempt. By him the critics were exempt : Such growling and erratic men. Had never come beneath his ken. Had Solomon lived in these days. The moderns would his wonder raise. Perhaps they do to see him crave, Come Fancv, raise him from the grave. 118 EBLANA. There, on the deck, I see liim stand ; The ^teame^ swiftly makes the land. 90 For Liverpool the king is bound ; And would be again under ground Had he is wish — he is so tost, He kingly swears he will be lost. The belching, fiery creature too, Makes him cry out, " The Monster's new." Now landed from tlie roaring main. He's seated in a railway train. As bird-like swift the monarch flew. Aloud he cried, " This thing is new." 100 In London now — but I don't mean. To present a Jew to the Queen. His beard is shaggy, long and white, No lady fair could stand the sight. Questions abstruse he might propound, To which no answer might be found ; Perhaps she'd have for him in store A puzzler hard to try his lore. All women, rich, poor, well or ill. Have got some puzzlers when they will. 110 A mesmeriser now we seek ; Stout he stands o'er his patient meek. She like a victim palpitates : By turns she loves, by turn she hates ; She laughs, she frowns, she sings, she cries, Nor from the potent spell can rise. The mesmeriser, now elate, Proudly points at the kingly pate. With o'hostlv frown the kin The king now Fancy quickly led, 90 Where lie the honourable dead, In venerable Westminster Hall : Then Death arose and drew the pall. The life of the dead of each one, Devotion read to Solomon, Standing at Sir Isaac's monument ; When suddenly all the tombs were rent, And gave up unto life their trust ; Bones, blood and flesh assum'd the dust, 130 He sternly viewed the trembling crowd : 100 Kings, Queens, Statesmen, poor Poets bowed, As thus, he with an indignant look, The foundations of Westminster shook. " Honoured of the earth ! disentombed, You that in rankest sin had bloomed : You rioted in wealth and pride, Whilst few, alas, in virtue died. With iron rule, and high and strong. On man you have inflicted wrong. I )arkest crimes, in my day unknown, Have been committed on your throne. Infidels and deists too, you were. Nor did God nor man in anger spare. Winebibbers and perjurers too. Public robbers, were not a few. Is this the temple of your fame ? To the land that has raised it, shame. Those tyrants foul I see afar, A cloud on her religion are. Their names to preserve, if she deign, They should be in a pagan fane, 140 150 120 £BLANA. Where worship enters not, divine, To the fierce Dagen Philistine. For those who by dear Wisdom's flame, Threw a halo on England's name. With those who by good deeds and brave, Gave to her life when near the grave : Let England rear their place to fame, Imperishable as her name. 160 The godly few and lone I see. Oh sacred be their dust to thee ! Let, in your holy places rest. The friends of mankind and the best." Thus the King. These to him drew nigh ; Then he raised his right arm on high. With solemn voice and stern he said, " Here should lie but the righteous dead." To other worlds he then withdrew, Utt'ring grave " All things here are new." 170 Death laid his subjects in the tomb. And sadness spread her pall of gloom. Fancy now once more in the chain. To Dublin, jaded, comes again ; Whilst Mem'ry is again at work, Not on the sublime, like a Burk. Hogarth-like let her caricature, Tho' her paintings may not long endure. The first one that she gives to me, Is personified misery, 180 In a woman, at a gin shop. And who calls for a whisky drop, That has been classical Iv stvled, A cropper, billy, or the child. Little Johr Most begg It is so din That it, a Half a wi Which the For the sc Or got, al From her That to h Upon her And two All battle Whose tf The raotl They spi She curs And for But beg A man A clerg A Cler How sf Since A scho Andh A goo( By nia Hisac Or pe From Andt 160 CANTO XII. 121 Little Johnny, or half a go, Most beggar-women it do know : It is so dimhiiitive in size, That it, a single penny buys. Half a wine glass it contains, Which the beggar here smart obtains, 190 For the sole penny that she took Or got, all the morn by good luck. From her black neck a child is hung. That to her back some way has clung ; TTpon her breast another squeels. And two others trail at her heels. All battle to possess the glass. Whose taste they like too well alas. The mother cannot get a taste. They spill it, eager in their haste. 200 She curses them, takes to her legs, And for chance charity she begs. But begs not one I introduce, A man fond of the barley juice ; A clergyman I vow, " A what ?" A Clergyman fast here I've got. How sadlv chano-'d has been that man. Since our acquaintance first began ! A scholarship he had obtained : I And had in the college gained 210 A good reputation, earned sore, By nightly toil at classic lore. His acquirements were all destroyed, Or perverted and misemployed, From the day he commenced a sot. And the infection strong had caught 122 EBLANA. Of whisky, which to death impelled ; Never by shame to be withheld. He tarnished all his former fame, And a Tackem at last became. 220 I see him now most vilely drunk. And view, of the tree, but the trunk. The lovely bird of song has fled. From her green tree now blasted, dead. Struck down by lightning in its prime, And shattered all before its time. And which can't long the shock survive, Nor more will leaf nor more revive. The golden bowl held out by hope At the fount. Disappointment broke. 230 The water is dried up or sunk, Ey him never more to be drunk. JIuw great. Alcohol, is thy power O'er man in each unguarded hour ! How great the evils thou hast done, Thou subtile and destroying one ! No bland enticing demon sent. By Satan, to ruin and torment. The everlasting soul of man With more success, has triumphed, than 240 Thou hast, alluring spirit fell, Thou fiend temulent, of hell. Murder, rape, and adultery. Hatred, falsehood, and robbery, With sense assassinated, these, Thou dost produce, thy lord to please. Thy deadly fruits, are or have been, In all the earth where thou art seen Or wert ; That has ( The sped Like sun Are in th Of encha The stroi Almost n In vain I Her chai The atta I am unJ The flat May lov Than th In honn What I While Herii \Vith The tr| Emble Oft arl Of wf Befoi She'' No^ The And] Dei Fori Pie CANTO XII. 123 120 2S0 liO Or wert ; they grow in ev'ry rank That has deep of thy waters drank. 250 The specks that Dublin has displayed, Like sun-freckles on a fair maid, Are in the blaze of beauties great, Of enchantments she can create. The strong endearments she has yet, Almost make me the spots forget. In vahi I would enumerate Her charities and virtues great. The attachment that for her I feel, I am unable to reveal. 260 The flutter'd eye and pallid cheek, May love more eloquently speak Than the sweet tongue of woman can, In honnied words declare to man. What I wrote down, it was with fear : While I found fault I did revere ; Her imperfections that I saw. With love I did and sorrow draw. The trembling hand and prostrate knee, Emblems base, tho' of fear they be— 270 Oft are the effects, I know well. Of worship that no tongue can tell Before the idol woman, when She's faulted and adored by men. Now fare thee well ! and from my soul. The heart I gave, thou hast it whole, And wilt have it until the day. Death over it asserts his sway : For it was out from thee alone, Pleasure unto that heart had flow n. 280 Q 124 XBLAMA. Oh how fleet and short the hright hourf, Compared to all the stormy showers That terrify, away wing joy, And darken pleasure or destroy ! And do thou sweep on to the sea, Brawling or mute as pleaseth thee, Oh Liffy ! thou didst communicate Delights, which, whatever be my fate, I can't forget, but can deplore, As thousands do and did before. 290 And as each tributary rill, That sparkling, glides thy breast to fill ; All which thou dost give to the main, Never to get from it again. — The thoughts of thee to me arrive. And help to keep my heart alive, Which did in full affection's swell Take of thee its long farewell — And takes of thee and Dublin now ; Dublin ! perpetua be thou ! SOO 290 SOO 4