■™> > ■Mf Sk % •-.",/ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ^f; VV> , -S'CCt^fi, y'T^t^f^^-^ III" < tl : \\ i THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OB, fftmult dFanatitijsm: IN TWO CANTOS. WITH OTHER POEMS. BY CHARLES SWAN, CATHARINE HALL, CAMBRIDGE. " Eremites and Friars, White, Black, and Grev, with all their trumpery. All these uphurl'd aloft, Fly o'er the backside nf the world far off, Into a limbo lar?e and broad, since call'd The Paradise of Fools." Milton's Paradise Lost, Book III. " Quid si nunquam adeo fcedis adeoque pudendit L'timur exemplis, ut non pejora supersint?'' JUV. Satire VIII. SECOND EDITION, WITH ADDITIONS, Ucmfcoi* : PUBLISHED BY LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, PATERXOSTER-ROW i AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 1819. BARNARD AH» FARIET, SMrner-Strttt, London. DEDICATION. TO COLONEL RICHARD ELLISON, SUDBROOK HOLME, LINCOLNSHIRE, MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT FOR WOTTON BASSET, WILTSHIRE, WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF RESPECT AND ESTEEM, IS VERY GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED. RY HIS OBLIGED AND OBEDIENT SERVANT, CHARLES SWAN. A 2 865176 PREFACE. A Preface to a Book is as naturally ex- pected as a Hook to a Preface ; and on en- tering a literary career, I should be exceed- ingly loth to err in a matter so important ! Under this impression, therefore, I put my hand to the oar. The subject of the " Counterfeit Saints 5 ' is, I am aware, a point of much nicety ; and in steering far away from the shores of Superstition, we are perhaps too liable to be foundered on the opposite coast: but, dangerous as the pilotage may be, it is not impracticable — and so far, 1 venture to be- lieve, I have succeeded; at least, this I can with safety aver — I have never designedly intended to throw an air of ridicule over the interests dearest to Religion! This asser- tion seems the more necessary, since there are in the world a sort of people, dull as they are mischievous — reptiles, discovered to have been, only by the slime they leave ; who turn the little wit with which Heaven hath supplied them, to pervert the tendency of everv casual expression* ; who hunt with * What was said of the " Goths and Vandals 1 ' of a former age, may with equal propriety be applied to the barbarians of this ! " Quicquid non placet, quicquici A 3 VI PREFACE. the perseverance, but not with the sagacity of hounds, for a miserable subsistence, and who would have us imagine, that they are the best and warmest members of society, who bring the dark shades to light, and throw the light into obscurity ; and who, like voracious truants, raise all the filth of the kennel, to gloat upon the refuse it con- tains ! But the injury is not confined among themselves ; some, and those too of sound judgment and candour, are carried down by the stream, (for the current of a puddle may sweep away the purest gold!) and to such only would I address myself. They will perhaps allow for the heat of youth, or at least, they will not convert the errors of the head, into the faults of the heart ! With regard to the remaining pieces — as they are less, so, doubtless, they are less faulty; however this may be, 1 can only wish them a safe conduct through this world of criticism, but without altogether concurring in the sentiment, that " Whatever is, is right /" c. s. Askron. Jan. 8th, 1819. non intelli^unt, Haresis est ; Graece scire Haeresis est ; expolite loqui Haeresis est : et quicquid seipsi non faciunt Haresis est."—Erasmi Epist. Basil. 1521. p. 477. l$ttfatt TO THE SECOND EDITION. The unlooked-for and rapid sale of a large impression of the " Counterfeit Saints/' notwithstanding the impediments thrown out by the malevolence of some, and the ignorant conceit of others, has loudly called for a Second Edition. To reply to every objection which has been, or may be, started against this, or the Poems following, would be an useless, if not an impossible task. I shall, however, beg leave to transcribe for their perusal, a story from Boccalini, which affords a sufficient reproof (sufficient for me at least) to all the would-be wits and critics who have done me the honour to notice my entre into the lite- Vlll PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. rary world — leaving' them to apply it as they think good ! — " A famous Critic having ga- thered together all the faults of an eminent Poet, made a present of them to Apollo, who received them verv graciouslv, and re- solved to make the Author a suitable return for the trouble he had been at in collecting them. In order to this, he set before him a sack of wheat, as it had just been threshed out of the sheaf. He then bid him pick out the chaff from among the corn, and lay it aside by itself. The Critic applied himself to the task with great industry and pleasure; and after having made a due separation, was presented by Apollo with the chaff for his pains* !" • Spectator, Vol. IV. No, 291. ADVERTISEMENT. The circumstances which form a principal feature in the following Tale, are said to have actually occurred, some time during the latter part of the last Century ; and whatever may have been added in the colouring, the outline, doubt- less, will readily be recognised. But, (let me observe here) though it hath now fallen to my lot to paint the dark side of the picture, it may yet be mine to display, in contrast, the all-radiant beam of that loveliness which can emanate alone from — Woman; that which is, which must be, the natural state even of her, who *' For an apple damrCd mankind." CONTENTS. Pa«e, 1 he Counterfeit Saints; or. Female Fana- ticism 1 Address to the Critics 69 Julian, a Fragment , 71 Dr. Mac Sap ; or, The Fallen Star, a Tale . . 95 Omar, an Eastern Tale 129 From Anaciseon (eis eputa) 151 From the Greek. " She sang, and Philomela mute:' 152 To Kate 153 The Quarrel 154 Anacreontique 157 Happiness * 159 Altered fkom Catullus 160 Epigram .' . , . ibid. To Clara 161 To Mira 162 On Women (From Chaucer) , . 164 To Mary 167 To — ■ . " My , dear and hallowed name.' 1 '' ...... 168 XU CONTENTS. Page. To John St. M , Esq 172 To a F hi end. " Fear you the noise of scribbling folk?" 174 To . " Yes, venorri'd adders lurk unseen.' 1 '' . . 175 To , (On being presented with " Falconer's Shipwreck") 178 To . " Can my soul cease to love thee?'''' fyc. 181 Sonnet to Time 183 To Laura 184 Remember Me. (To H tte) 185 To Fanny 188 Song. " Away, far away from the false one;" Sfc. 189 To H te. " Vve seen with scarce a wish, a sigh." 190 Sonnet. Written by Moonlight among the Ruins of Kirkstall Abbey, Yorkshire 192 To 193 EpiertAMS. .... 195 ERRATA. COUNTERFEIT SAINTS, Canto II. Stanza 50, Line S. for " fogot," read forgot. UK, MAC S*P, Page 98, Line 9, for " head," read " heed." 103, 9, for " then," read " than." OMAR, H4, in, for " weigh'd by," read " weigh'd down by. THE QEQUUttvfttt Saints, &*♦ CANTO I. " Who can come in, and say that I mean her, When such a one as she, such is her neighbour?" As YOU LIKE IT. 1. In Popish times — but Avhen, I can't determine, — Two noted rogues, who liv'd upon their wit, (One I'll call Martin, and the other, Hermon, Because it suits me now to rhyme with it ; And since 'tis said, there's " magic in a name," This, for what I know, may have lawful claim !) B 2 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OR. 2. Sneak'd to hear Mass, and with becoming gravity, Plac'd themselves coolly by a maiden old, Who view'd the lads with tolerable suavity, Considering she was one of ancient mould. One of the breed, we term, cross-grain'd and peevish, Rich, and inimical to fingers thievish ! 3. Mayhap, you'll fancy that the rogues' transgressions Had brought them moping to the Virgin's shrine, To tease her ladyship with large confessions, And keep the holy Fathers from their wine : No, no — the virgin that they came to woo, Was this old maiden that they stuck so to. 4. ; Tis true, in general, rogues will seldom venture Into a Popish church to pop a snout, For fire and brimstone, smelling as they enter, They're very glad indeed to pop it out : And really, Purgatory's fire and smoke, Whatever you may think it, is no joke ! FEMALE FANATICISM. 5. And then your Friars ! oh ! they're keen-eyed fellows, That to the pocket keep a wondrous look-out, And never fail to blow the brimstone bellows, Till they contrive the glittering bits to hook out ; Until, in short, you make them restitution, The dogs will never give you absolution. 6. 'Tis said, that once a young repentant sinner Return'd the total profit of his trading, And vow'd, that ere he went to eat his dinner, He'd give his freakish conscience an unlading j So to a holy Friar straight he comes, And thus exclaims, with sundry has and hums ! — 7. " Father, I have been wicked, very wicked — " I robb'd a lady of a splendid trinket; " A Jew — (but hang it, that's no harm) I tricked — " " Indeed, my son, a heinous crime I think it ; " Give me the jewel." Cried the youth, " Good lack ! ** Justice impeil'd me, and I took it back." b2 4 THE COUNTERFEIT SAIXTS ', OR, 8. " Yon took it back, you dog! oh, blessed Virgin, " Nathless the foul impurities you gave ; " Prodigious guilt ! but mark me— from a scourging " Not e'en his Holiness of Rome can save!" " But how then, Father — if I steal 't again ?" " How then, you rogue ? — why Til absolve you then !" 9. But to my story, without further prosing : The rascal wights, who now at Mass appear'd, Watching a lucky moment, when, half dozing, The pious maiden's chin had downward steer'd, And (for in cone-like form this chin did fair look.) Hid half its longitude beneath her pray'r-book. 10. And where's the wonder if you catch her napping'.' What can be done when spirits overpow'r us { What tow'r can stand, when floods like these are sapping. And spite of heav'nly intercession bore us ? Yes, though she pray'd as oft as priests couid let her, Spirits of tvil ever got the better ! FEMALE FANATICISM. 11. This case was very grievous — trust my word — ■ Especially with all her predilection For holy monks : 'tis true I never heard That nuns had this same share in her affection ; But that might possibly arise from this, Her stars decreed her — an unmarried Miss. 12. And I've observ'd sometimes your ancient ladies Love e'en automatons in man's shape well — Because it happens, having pass'd their hey-days, They hate th' appendage — " leading apes in hell;' And then too, like our fair one, they confide, Something too much, upon their spiritual guide. 13. This caus'd, though it be strange, her non-devotion, And bless'd the knaves with famous opportunity, To prove to nicety, a pretty notion — All means are just and fair in this community; Nay, if the fact's not monstrously belied, 'Tis so in more communities beside. y favour vet unurcceScntcE, (TSe joyful, Unite, cast ainap all gorroto) 31, efcen 3!, to quit iDtHfce contentea, "ZZ+jt fioio'rs of fcliss, ann sup tott'{) tTjee to-morroiu , 13ut, paj?, no ceremony— ton't i>c queasy — £Clc Ijofy ©endemen ate free ann easy ! 32. Sut for tfjis privilege t'fje most uncommon, Hememtier 31 cpuecialiy entreat, <£'en on your life, t'fje tuonncr tcl! to no man, Cljat 3 :i luwttal conDcsccnn to meet, lues's', bices tfjy fot, go fuff of richest promise, Slna to ait tfje coming of tfjy fricnn e>t. operas?. FEMALE FANATICISM. 13 33. Reader! it is the case with ev'ry woman, At least, with all of whom I ever heard ; No matter, if from Protestant or Roman, They still give credit to a sugar' d word ! Tell 'em they're beautiful, and they'll not let it By you forgot be — or themselves forget it. 34. Is it not true, fair Dames, what I have written? You, all of you, are beautiful, ne'er doubt it: For varying fancy with a charm is smitten, Only for something- Hottentot about it ! Some like a six foot grace, whilst others gape In admiration of an oval shape. 85. Some doat on many a round-about of fat, Whilst lean ones, put each feature in distortion ; And I must say there something is in that, For largest women bring the largest portion ! But hold— and let me not neglect Miss Julie, Who read — and need I add — believ'd it duly 1 14 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OR. 36. Such grace, she thought, was but the meet reward That all her piety deserv'd t' inherit; And that's a point most ladies would think hard To be deny'd — I mean reward of merit ! And here her faith (great article of creed !) Did her most wondrous services indeed. 37. Yet if you but consider for a second, There's nothing very wonderful, that's certain, "Women and vanity are justly reckon'd So much allied, that age's thick-wrought curtain Nor hides, nor lessens. Who can then compute Th' effect of these and bigotry to boot ?" 38. Oh! they have faith to swallow mountains — carry Olympus balanc'd on a needle's point! And nothing more absurd, that doctrine, marry ! Than those the fabling Popish priests have coin'd • FEMALE FANATICISM. 15 Witness the bottle where the holy tears dropp'd* ; 'Fore Jove ! th' inventor well deserv'd his ears cropp'd I 39. Yet I'm afraid, if all who deal in fiction, Were by the law compell'd to lose their ears — I would not have ye think it sland'rous diction— But nine in ten would feel the want of theirs ; And then the fashion, 'mid newspaper cries, Would be, "false ears,'" as well as teeth and eves. 40. As for the nymphs, oh! grief above all other, (If loss of ears produce a loss of hearing,) For who sage curiosity could smother, As to forego a pleasure so endearing? Why faith, the injury would be exceeding, And put a total stop to slander breeding I * Alluding to the tricks of the Roman Catholic Clergy. " The church of the patron of Thessalcniea (says Gibbon, inter eaetera) was served by t'.ie canons of the Holy Sepulchre, and contained a divine ointment, which distilled daily and stupendous miracles !" And such distilleries are yet boasted of! 16 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OR. 41. 1 must confess, it doth surprise me much, That 'niofigst the taxes in the land appearing, The ministers forget to have a touch At that prolific one — a tax on hearing ; And more especially, since well agreeing With that light tax already upon seeing ! 42. If such should be the case. I'll make a bet, Within one twelvemonth from the present minute. Ladies alone would pay the nation's debt : A serious subject — tho' there's nothing in it ! The nation is a debtor, let me say, That pays all debt^, but those it ought to pay. 43. Now much and grievou.-dy did Julie fidget, More nervous far than e'en a modern fair. Invoking saints, viz. Ursula or Bridget, Against th' expected moment to prepare : Trembling, lest he should come in such great splendour. That lightning flushing from his eves should end her! FEMALE FANATICISM. 17 44. <: But, oh ! what shall I give him," thought Miss Julie, " Can holy spirits feed on mortal dishes ? " Perhaps ragouts or pates, or more truly, ' ; Small limbs of chickens may provoke his wishes ; *' Yet, as I am a sinner, I declare, " I thought your saints had always liv'd on air!" 45. In such dilemma, she resolv'd t' acquaint Her maid Annette, with this proud visitation, And ask if she knew how to feed a saint With dishes wholly void of profanation. Withal she bade her strictly, to discover To none, the coming of this heav nly lover. 46. Unlike her mistress, was the fair Annette, (Except, indeed, she was no wit. less simple) Her cheek was beauty's heav nliest amulet, And love, arch-smiling, beam'd thro 1 ev'ry dimple ; Who saw, would fancy her a goddess ; still he Would find her woman — and but very silly! 18 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; Oil, 47. In consultation deep, the two long sat, Profoundly argumentative, be sure; But this, the sage result of all their chat — To send for supper from a fam'd traiteur! And so Annette was order'd to bespeak Something at once superbe et magnijique ! 48. Nor ended here the lady's wondrous ardour, To greet the saint with quaint devices new ; For as hope whisper'd he would well reward her, She deem'd it only what she ought to do ! So to a jeweller's (her kinsman he) She sent for gems, and plate's rich marquetry ! 49. VV T ho was there now like Julie so elate, Whilst at the toilette's pleasurable duty? Her scraggy neck drawn up in lofty state, With best Parisian rouge improv'd her beauty; Stays grasp'd her angel form— her shoulders padded ; Dales rose to hills — to plains were mountains added. I'KMAL^ FANATICISM. 19 50. Odours of all sorts, choicest aromatics, A perfect inundation did she pour; And to a nose of quick perception, that speaks A wish to be far sweeter than before : And truly, (tho' I won't defile my metre) Vague rumour whispers that she might be sweeter! 51. Now rigg'd in all her glory, Julie sat, Impatient, ay as boarding-school young misses, Forc'd to endure a world of prudent chat, Tho' panting for a lover's ardent kisses ; Oblig'd to curb a potent inclination, For such a trifle as — a reputation ! 52. Methinks I see, (behind a hawthorn cow'ring) The eager lover, often slyly peep With staring eyes, and brow with anger low'ring, Cursing his evil stars, till half asleep; Or else, perhaps, to while away the time, " Stanzas to Night" assume the shape of rhyme ? 20 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OH, 53. Julio, it really glads me to rehearse, Somehow had got a kind of knack at rhyming: And tho' she car'd not sixpence for the verse, She ever felt delighted with the chiming : These call'd she, " Pearls of Poe&y," and strung 'em Like holy beads — nay, to oblige ye, sung 'em! 54. In days of old, as facts before us teach, Nymphs could make pretty verses, when at dusk a " Mournful murmur stray d*,' 7 and doubtless, each Anna Matilda charm' d a Delia Crusca! Good heav'n ! how sweet, to bosoms sympathetic, To mourn in rhyme — fall sick, without emetic! * iye the sympathetic effusions of two sensitive souls, whose inflammability was such, that the very coruscations which threat- ened to dazzle the world, through the. medium of a daily print, communicated the sott sigh of despondency and love, from the " amiable" youth to the " bewitching" fair one ! FEMALE FANATICISM. 21 55. Nay, some young ladies can, the Lord be thanked, In verse be mute, as any pickled herring, When wrapt in flannel petticoat or blanket, The spirit or the muse within is stirring! I've heard of nymphs who (but that plot miscarried) Wrote, till they fancied they were really married ! 56. 'Tis strange, how fast this fancy oft will hurry on ; Rarely indeed is found the least impediment, That does not serve more speedily to spur ye on, Altho' the top be scum, the bottom sediment ; 'Tis a gay frostwork, (and tho' little matter it) Next morn repairs, e'en if the tempest shatter it ! 57. Deeming Annette a long, a tedious while, Widi high-rais'd expectations floating round — Julie at loss the moments to beguile, Thus gently twitter'd concords of sweet sound, (Altho' her maid declar'd -- but who'll believe her 1 Far sweeter sounds the marrow-bone and cleaver !) THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS ; OR, JULIE'S SONG. TO A TASSY*. 1. Thee, sweet Flow'r, When a-budding, Men devour In a pudding. 2. St. Bridget, bad men Only do it : Time shall come, when They will rue it ! * To imagine a reason for Julie's selection of a " Tansy," to string her " pearls" upon, were no easy task ; but we may still have recourse to that infallibly convincing argument every wo- man so well understands, viz. " because she did." FEMALE FANATICISM. 23 3. Only think, now, (Oh the wretches !) Not to let grow Loveliest vetches. 4. Ah ! 'twill break my Heart, or near it : — I know not why, Yet I fear it. 5. Mercy sweet is, Bright and charming, And most meet is For the carvien*. * Let not the fair admirer of "pearls," be deceived by the cacophany of this unhappy word. Think not the heroine of our verse would condescend to hold communication with carmen! — No, no — in the mysteries of her latinity, she was eyer esteemed 24 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OR, 6. Bless my (heav'n's race !) Muse and metre ; Then reviews base DareQ't ill treat her. 7. Then shall glory Deck my strains, and My proud story Evermore stand ! 58. Whilst Julie, thro' her last remaining pegs, (Which you may fancy icise ones, if you will) Thus trill'd forth her best tones, so sweet, cfegs ! " The air, a charter'd libertine, was still* !" more profoundly scientific, than can be conceived by tlie super- ficial capacities of modern days! Besides, it is said, " Minuentur atrte Carmine curie." — -Hon. * " That when he speaks, The air, a charter'd libertine, is still." — Shak. Hen. V. FEMALE FANATICISM. 25 But whether charm'd by harmony or no, Alack, is more than I have pow'r to show ! 59. It's more than I have pow'r to show — because I was not there — nor can I ascertain it; And, therefore, by indisputable laws*, 'Tis clear, I cannot possibly explain it; But notwithstanding this, I trust you pant to Pass on with me into the Second Canto ! * Viodesty might answer, " nay," Will — would vociferate, " de tout son caurV FEMALE FANATICISM. 29 And horrid 'twere to give a saint refusal, Whose voice mellifluous beats the lark or ousel! 6. But to Annette, 'tis fit I turn my tale, (The maid of burning eye and rosy cheek) And hoist before the breeze my scudding sail, To the far haven I have yet to seek ; But ye, whose livers overflow with bile, At least be silent, if ye cannot smile. 7. First au restaurateur, in haste she posted, To order this grand supper — nor in vain ; Annette, indeed, most confidently boasted, It beat all ever heard of in Cocaigne* ; " Oh ! it is," oft in great delight, she cried, " Sweetest of all the world can shew beside I" * " Pais, oil le ciel oft're les viandes toutes cuites, et ou eomme on paile, les alouettes tombent toutes roties." — Duchat. 30 THE COUNTERFEIT SAfNTS; Or.. 8. But you may well believe, no small surprise In the restaurateur was thus excited ; He twirl'd aloft the whites of both his eyes, With an arch leer, that spoke him much delighted . " I know Madame can pay," he said internally, " And she shaU pay, and that too most infernally. 9. " And yet 'tis very strange," continued he, " What can the old lass want with such a supper? " She's superannuated, and may be " Has taken by mistake an extra cup ; or, " Probably, she's mad ; however, I know " All viy concern is, to procure the rhino." 10. Away from this most conscientious Dripping, (In England, verily, they're much the same) Behold the fair Annette so gaily tripping On to the jeweller's — Guillaume, his name: And after sundry turns about and bending, She reach'd the threshold, whither she was wending FEMALE FANATICISM. 31 11. Seest thou the maiden's cheek, with crimson flushing Sudden, as caus'd by some all-pow'rful spell ? In former days, this was consider'd blushing, But what you term it now, I cannot tell; For truly, (ladies don't be in a passion) Blushing has long been wholly out of fashion! 12. But Annette blush'd — ay deeply blush'd, .young ladies, And can ye notvthe wondrous cause discover?, I guess a few of ye'd increase your pray-days For such a reason — 'twas, ye gods — a lover! But then he was (doubtless, great discontent is) Only a goldsmith's journeyman-apprentice. 13. Yet, still he was a lover, spruce and comely, And to Annette it was sufficient quite. I am not certain, were he poor and homely, Whether so much she would have lov'd the wight. Homely and rich has quite another sound ; And as to worth, you weigh that by the pound. 32 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINT?; 6K. 14. Ambrose had wealth, and she would fain possess it ; Therefore, no doubt, the couple meant to marry. Unless (I don't affirm, altho' I guess it) A larger fish the bait away should carry ; For tho' I term'd her silly, (Fame doth bark it) She ever kept an eye upon the market ! 15. Ambrose, it seems, was now the best that offer' d, And so, for him, her ruby lips shed kisses ; And by fair Venus, they were nought to scoff at : Few others yielded half so many blisses ! Blisses, in truth, that bade that happy swain Who once had sipt, oft haste t* sip again 1 16. Oh! I remember One, whose lips a fountain Of nectar'd kisses seem'd — full, rich, and dewy ; Hang it ! I almost fancied I could count 'em, Fix'd on their rosy beds. Altho', 'tis true, I Have gaz'd at beauty, hours of life's short span. Yet, the like saw I never — never ean ! FEMALE FANATICISM. 33 17. But 'twas not lips alone, nor sparkling eyes, — Sweetest expression o'er each feature rov'd ; I do not think there lives a man so wise, That could behold such excellence unmov'd ; And yet, (deuce take the women, I say) yet This perfect beauty was a sad coquette* ! 18. I fear me too, Miss Julie's pretty wench, The fair Annette, had notions of coquetting ; Indeed, it is a thing so truly French, The word is but a stone in English setting: So long we've had it too, you well may doubt If Nature meant the land to be without. 19. But we have got it, and I'm sorry for't, 'Tis such a paltry piece of affectation, * Should this faint portrait ever meet the eve of her for whom it was drawn, and that eye acknowledge its resemblance, let her be lhanktui for the hint, and appear what nature first intended— " wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best!" c 5 34 THE COUNTFKFEIT SAINTS: Oil. Brought o'er by some lost character at Court, Who'd no necessity for reputation. Fashion spreads fast, from shore to shore Ave find. As chaff is toss'd on all sides by the wind ! 20. 'The vermeil blush, by this, had slipt her cheek of. Yet her bright eyes she still did sweetly cover: For oh! how was it possible to speak of One earthly thing, whilst looking at a lover ? Her little heart, in truth, was very tumorous ; And as for glances, why they were innumerous \ 21. Ambrose, delighted, roll'd his roguish eve. And verily seem'd ready to devour her; And let me just inform you, by the bye, That was almost enough to overpow'r her I But tho' she didn't faint, la delicatesse Made her extremely nervous, ne'ertheless. 22. After some pretty hesitations ended, He ventur'd to inquire her pleasure there; FEMALE FANATICISM. 35 And with the finest of confusions blended, She summon'd resolution to declare : And most magnanimous it was, no doubt — What! have a secret, and not let it out! 23. That it was difficult, I need not paint ; And she'd have told it, but the anger dreaded, Not of Madame alone, but of the Saint, To whom she judg'd her mistress would be wedded; And, therefore, told him merely of their want Of some rich gems and plate — tres elegantes. 24. Had Jove " omnipotens" (with all the thunder They flog perforce, at school, into one's pate) Come rattling past him — not with half the wonder, Had he been rous'd — as now, to hear her state Miss Julie's wants. Not stranger was it, when Circe transform' d a herd of hogs to men* ! * A race, who^e kugghh propensities have, I believe, since then but little varied. We have still, thank Pleaven! princes and no- bles of the " true legitimate cut!'" 36 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OR, 25. "* mon Dieu," exclaim'd the astonish'd lad, " Is Madame, (thus by courtesy they call her) " Is Madame Julie then, become quite mad ? " The saints forbid such misery befall her ! " Diable ! what wants she with plate or jewel ? " Make her, Annette, a plate of water gruel!" 26. *' Pray, don't be quite so saucy, Mr. Ambrose," Replied the fair, with anger-lighted eyes And smiling scorn, turn'd up her lovely nose, " Really one might suppose you wondrous wise ;— " But, Sir, we want, and we will have the plate too, *' You ugly wretch, — how heartily I hate you 1" 27. " Nay, nay now, dearest, sweetest, best Annette. " Can you inflict a punishment so cruel '? " I meant not, love, to put you in a pet, " Altho' I mentioned water — water- gruel." This was a specimen of joke, you see, For gruel nourish'd Julie's piety. FEMALE FANATICISM. 37 28. Howe'er, submission and a dose of flattery, Clos'd up the breach that anger made before, As light (a poet tells us, is term'd " scattery*") Bedawbs the world, and darkness is no more ; Indeed it must be false, what libels teach us, Women are ever found good-natur'd creatures ! 29. And soon Annette smooth' d her contracted brows, While sweetest smiles, like fairy visions spring, That, mocking all the ecstacies they rouse, Elude the grasp, yet chide the lingering ! And Ambrose, all but hope's gay dreams forgetting, Smil'd at the maiden's pleasure in coquetting. * Vide a " Story of Rimini," by L H " Who had stout notions on the scribbling score." Idem. " It was a pity — so it was, " That villainous affectation should be digg'd " Out of the bowels" of so fair a soil. Hotspur's Description of a Coxcomb, 38 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS: OR, 30. But Ambrose Avas a cunning dog; he spy'd Some mystery with her request connected ; Miss Julie never had before applied For plate — nor was it now to be expected ; Hers was no house of gaiety : and, therefore, 'Twas doubly wonderful what these things were for ! 31. Touch but the secret spring, and all can tell, (At least all those who pore upon romances) The pannel flies — and deeds that darken hell*, ' Or, bags of shiners+, meet your searching glances ! And Ambrose tried the ways maids deem enchanting, To gain th' intelligence that he was wanting. 32. The girl had made her mind up, to declare The wondrous secret, long before she told it ; * As in the " Old English Baron." f As in the " Mysteries of Udolphn," and other mysteries- passim. FEMALE FANATICISM. T9 But then lie coax'd her so charmingly — did swear Such pretty oaths of love; that still to hold it Her panting bosom strove: there secrets lie, Like full-fledg'd birds — the first fair day, they fly ! 33. Think ye that birds their young ones can retain, Longer than they have means and place to soar ? Not they : and secrets in love's nest remain, You may believe it, not a minute more : I'd trust a secret with a lady too — But one I car'd not if the kingdom knew. 34. Annette, indeed, made many a long demur, As if, to tell, or not to tell, contesting ; But that was sauce piqitante to give a spur, And make the story doubly interesting: At length it came, and he was bade, " discover " To none, the coming of this htav'ulu lover!" 35. If Ambrose was surprised before, I'm curst, If now he was not petrified with wonder; 40 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS ; OR, He stood — not as my simile describ'd the first— But just as if he'd gorged a bolt of thunder, Which Jove dispatch'd from his celestial store, Pop thro' his jaws, and screw'd him to the floor ! 36. But when, at last, his tongue had found a voice, 'Twas not a member ever fond of speaking, Whence all the house re-echoes to its noise — But rather like a water-barrel leaking : A gentle voice it was, whose tame condition Knew no alternative, than meek submission* ! * Sir William C— t-s's " meek submission" to his " noble friend," excellently illustrates the text ! 'Tis a singular coinci- dence, that Horace in the Ninth Satire of the First Book, should (as if anticipating Sir William's political feelings) exclaim in astonishment, — — " vin tu, Curtis, Juda-is* oppedere?" No one, howev cr, can for a moment imagine, the Baronet's rotun- dity, or his eloquent speeches, bear any resemblance to a " icater- barrel leaking." * Judstis— irf« translated " Ministers." FEMALE FANATICISM. 41 37. £uch may be found; and wary Ambrose dreaded Again to see bis mistress in a fury. " Only," thought he, " let's wait till we are wedded, " And then I'll show who's master, I assure you ; " But Madame wed a saint! Lord, what a joke — " Straw blazes high, but finishes in smoke 1" 38. It cannot be suppos'd that perfect credit By Ambrose should be given to the tale ; But tho' he deem'd it false, think not he said it-, For well he knew how little 't would avail. Full steadily doth superstition run Darkling along, despite the beaming sun ! 39. The goldsmith was from home: this Ambrose stated; And so the maid, alack ! must wait content ! But he resolv'd the tale should be related, Before or plate or gems to Julie went; Yet, that the time might swiftly glide along, Annette agreed to charm him with a sons:. 42 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; Oil, 40. Of course, it was not without much entreaty ; But that you readily may understand ; Because young Misses think it very pretty, Never to sing, or squall, at first command : Yet did i/jesing, (and when does flattery fail?) As to the rose, th' enamour'd nightingale* ! ANNETTE'S SONG. 1. Where yon elm trees that loftily wave in the wind, Afford a cool shade from the sun's dreaded heat, On a couch overspread with sweet flow'rs I reclin'd, And my heart in my bosom tumultuously beat; I ponder'd — and what was it on, do you think? Why, on Love; for last night I could scarce sleep a wink. * Such an opportunity to introduce this lady-like simile was not to be lost sight of. The nightingale (and the " to po^ov twv ?r<«JTuiv,") is become so exclusively the property of the fair sex, that their throats might not, I think, be inaptly termed, "Night- ingale Lane." FEMALE FANATICISM. 43 2. So this morning I rose, (as I usually do, When tir'd of lying,) and hither I came; And I trust you will think it was wonderful too — My heart, like the sun, appear'd all in a flame! And I felt — (oh ! for me may some kind breast be yearning) I felt with delightfullest love I was burning. 3. But, still as I ponder'd, big sighs that were hatching Fann'd the flame, till it blaz'd at a terrible rate, A.nd I found that the parts all adjacent were catching ; 'Tis true, on my word, tho' Fm sorry to say't ; Then I said, " Ah ! if such be the state of the weather, *• Heart, body and all, will be burnt up together!" 4. J\ow I turn'd my eyes downward ; but sorrow still springs — Dandelions* and daisies, all seem'd to complain ; * I ought here to take occasion to say sometlriug smart against rhat unfortunate race of beings, " the Dandies:" but I pass 44 THR COUNTERFEIT SAINTS ; OR, For they hung down their heads, pretty innocent things'* , Tho' I fervently hope they'll be happy again ! Alas ! I had press'd there — oh ! do not condemn — I painfully feel — much too heavy for them ! 5. Why, why did I ramble, recline 'neath the trees, And cruelly injure what Nature has sown? Forgive, oh! forgive, and in future, the ease Of sweet flow'rs I'll consult, ere I think of my own ; And if I survive, a fine sonnet I'll pen ; But never, oh never, be wicked again ! (however reluctantly) the opportunity, and only request the gen- tle reader to turn his eye to the first newspaper within reach — there he will find much of what was doubtless intended to be good — and the intent alone is " good in law !" * I have indisputable authority for the epithets here applied; viz. that of Mr, Wordsworth, " The orb of whose genius (as he himself candidly enough confesses) is gloriously resplendent." Vide Wordsworth' s Poems, FEMALE FANATICISM. 45 41. What is it man's dull way thro' life beguiles, And brightens up his day ? 'Tis love, 'tis love ! Like the fair insect which at midnight smiles, And gaily sparkles in the desert grove. What is it helps to eke out many a sonnet? 'Tis love, 'tis love — you may depend upon it ! 42. Since such, then, are the proud excess of glories That circle love, why faith it isn't queer. (For women ever are invet'rate Tories In love affairs!) the maid should sing on't here ; Altho', perhaps, (yet grieving is but folly !) The mournful strain may make ye melancholy. 43. Ambrose — it almost is beyond belief — Was so affected, salt tears ran each cheek off; But if they ran from laughter or from grief, The chronicle I quote, forgets to speak of; So curiosity I cannot sate — or Could I — what would be left my commentator 1 46 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OR, 44. The song — which probably, the youth encor'd, Beguil'd the time, till Guillaume interrupted The soothing cadence — and sweet peace restor'd, Whose virgin purity they had corrupted ; Then Ambrose told his tale, but bade, " discover, " To none, the coming of this heavenly lover!" 45. Upon " surprise," have I said much ; the rout it Doubtless hath made among the learned, may Save me, the pain of lab 'ring more about it, And leave me, freely to pursue my way ! — Suffice it then, our Goldsmith was astounded, And worse than all — confoundedly confounded* /" 46. On some expedient to hit revolv'd he, With hasty step, parading to and fro, — * Upon the excellence of this epithet, consult " Epithetonia !" I flatter myself it is no way inferior to " Confusion worse con- founded." — Milton. FEMALE FANATICISM. 47 And after much deep thinking, thus resolv'd he: — To do directly — what ? He did not know ! He struck his forehead, it was hard and thick, And might have been a tenement of brick. 47. It sometimes happens, in the densest head, A bright thought rises — like rare birds that soar, And by strange chance, to unknown lands are led — A wondrous thing — none ever saw before ! So 'twas with Guillaume — like a flame it shone — An ignis fatuus, scarcely seen, ere gone. 48. But thus he did determine, all she wanted, Of plate and gems he'd send. Then to complete her, With glory yet unparalleled, he panted, To act himself heav'n's porter, — holy Peter; Array'd in which disguise, he meant to wait, Catch his gull'd saintship, and secure the plate ! 49. So off he sent Annette, to Julie, — whom We left poor creature, big with vast impatience 48 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS ', OR, Her pious brow, had gain'd a holy gloom — Which it had known before, on some occasions Occasions which — (God help a maiden Miss!) Requir'd not half the temper, that did this. 50. But now, the rascals — Martin and that Herraon, 1 told you of, (1 hope you've not fogot 'em) ; Who meant to read Miss Julie, sueh a sermon, As she'd remember long enough, — od rot 'em ! When ev'ning's shades slipt down, the former stole. Unknown, unquestion'd to the splendid goal. 51. But the last rogue, — videlicet — young Hermon. Station'd himself, as sentry at the door ; The very spot, I'd willingly determine; Only remember, what I said before: — It would so vex the learned, when around 'em- Lay piles of books, and nothing to confound 'em. 52. When holy Thomas enter'd the saloon, By art adorn'd, as gaily as it could be. FEMALE FANATICISM. 49 Poor Julie, felt inclin'd to try a swoon, Only — she fear'd it indecorous would be ; Besides the saint — (a thing, alas how madding !) Might then discover all the art of padding ! 53. Such thought, as I have heard, from heads profound, Hath often sav'd a lady from a fainting, Lest it appear the form so plump and round, Turn bolstered, and the lovely face — a painting* ; But these must be aspersions, — all mere lies, Nor if I saw, would I believe my eyes ! * '• Ladies, conscious of no personal defects, and convinced i! of their own graces, may, upon eccasion, drop into a faint ; " but I would earnestly caution them, first to provide arms and M supporters — without which, this carriage of the fair one will only '•' prove useless and empty show." — Extract from an undent Latin Manuscript, now in the possession of the " Fudge Family." As to the antiquity of the faint, it cannot indeed be doubted; Virgil himself says, " procumbit humi bos,"— the lady fainted ! D 50 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS ; OR, 54. But who can wonder, at a lady's qualms, When a great Saint, thus popt himself before her — Instant, she rais'd aloft, her wither'd palms; And humbly knelt his most profound adorer; Yet ere we travel further, on our way, How he was drest, 'twere not amiss to say. 55. His garb was of the Jewish Patriarch kind — While from his chin, a reverend beard down flowing, Prov'd— as it must, to ev'ry thinking mind; The monstrous length of time it had been growing, But where it grew, in heav'n, or earth, or hell ; Ask the first goat you see — and it may tell! 56. An antique book in very sumptuous gilding, From one arm apostollically fell, — The other, a stout oaken sapling wielding, Seem'd to support his steps, extremely well ; Us'd as a horse, it may be, when the cloud Opens its womb, and thunders roar aloud, FEMALE FANATICISM. 51 i 57. For such were dang'rous riding ! Julie's knees Bent in obsequious reverence to the rogue, Who rais'd her up, politely as ye please, But told her praying — now was out of vogue* ; And tho' he'd no objection to her mumming, He trusted supper would be quick in coming ! 58. The lady, seem'd aghast, says our recorder, To hear this holy one, so strangely speak ; However, keeping under, her disorder, — Thus she replied in lowly tones and meek. " Oh ! thou all glorious, suffer me to thank, u Your saintship for my elevated rank I" 59. Here, let the muse, delay her wantonning, And as the heart, swells o'er the fated past, * Are not the "polite" audience at St. James' pretty much of the same opinion ? and may we not say -with Horace, to most of such congresses, " Non es quod simulas." D 2 52 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OK,. Strike to deep notes of sorrow, the wild string — And (as she may), sweet mournful music cast; For superstition comes, and woe the while, Death sits exulting there, and courts her ghastly smile, 60. And say — has blood yet ceased for her to flow, Does peace, to bless a wasted world appear ? Oh ! do we not, too well — too dearly know, Her hated influence draws the bitter tear* ? * Spain, and her re-established Inquisition, need but be men- tioned to demonstrate the truth of this position ; but without wandering thither, let our domestic hearths, haunted as they too often are by this horrible demon, afford their lamentable proofs. The following account, extracted from undoubted sources, is of itself too dreadful to require additional comment, and may per- haps serve as a beacon to warn the slaves of superstition against the encroaches of their tyrannical oppressor! July, 1818. — " A few weeks back, a shocking murder was per- petrated at the village of Ower, near Galway, Ireland, on a wo- man named Flaherty. The husband of this woman, with her whole family, consisting of her father, mother, and two brothers, were led to imagine, that the deceased was possessed of some FEMALE FANATICISM. 53 Then be their none, that view our tale with scorn, Eve, may have dangers — fatal as the morn ! 61. The rogue perceiving the last words he'd spoken, Had rous'd no little wonder in madame, — Resum'd awhile, the silence he had broken, For his pulse beat, betokening some alarm ; But soon, with solemn phiz, most energetically, He spoke, altho' perhaps too hypothetically 1 62. *' Fair Julie, — the delight, the joy of heav'n, " Thy piety proclaims thee pious —very ; "Ask therefore what thou wilt, it shall be giv'n, " And thou and I, to-night will be right merry ; " But see — the supper waits us ! come my fair, ■" Proud is Saint Thomas to conduct thee there." evil spirit, and that the husband had power from the priest to effect a cure. Under this impression, her own family were not only in- duced to look on, but even to assist, while he strangled her, by putting a pair of iron tongs around her neck, and pressing them, till she expired. The father of this unhappy victim of supersti* ,tion has been committed to tbe county gaol." 54 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OR, 63. Bounce, on her marrow*bones, once more fell Julie, Remembering nought of -what had pass'd before : And on this second fall, grown wiser truly ; Martin spoke not, lest he should blunder more : So having raised her, from her knees again — She happy damsel was — he happy swain ! 64. Sage gluttons ! tho' at supper, if you look For a description, you're mistaken much, Because, I don't pretend to be a cook, Tho' possibly indeed, you may be such : But still — (to make a final peroration), I shall omit the tempting avocation* ! * " Tempting," in truth, if we may give credit to the cormorant appetite of your modern Epicure ! Astonishing as the assertion may appear, I was once gravely informed by one of the genus, that he supposed the chief part of happiness hereafter would be in re-gorging (so I understood him) the " tid-bits" which had so delectably tickled the palate upon earth! ! FEMALE FANATICISM. 55 65. Martin, might well be anxious to set to : Each friandise, he made so quickly fly, That Julie, found she had enough to do, To follow all his motions with her eye ! At last, she deem'd it certain, that her guest, Eat part, and sent to paradise the rest. 66. But whilst she watch' d this gourmand, lo ! a rapping — - Like volleying thunder, o'er the cloud-capt hill : Rous'd up Annette, who, wearied out, was napping To the deep base, her minsfrel nose, did trill : But soon its music hush'd, and nought around Was heard, save that loud terrifying sound. 67. The saint ! — oh where was now, the holy saint ! What was he doing, in this dreadful hour '{ Alack ? 'tis truth, and truth alone, I paint — He had no will to help, or will, no pow'r ! Louder, and louder, grew the outrageous knocking ; But Thomas bade her — " hold, forbear unlocking." 56 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OR. 68. Poor Thomas ! — that celestial voracity Had stuck a something bony, in his jaws, And when the maid, with wondrous pertinacity Would ope the door, against his holy laws, To bar th' endeavour, putting forth his strength, The bony substance loos'd, — and tumbling came at length ! 69. But with great force it flew, and hit the girl, Who frighten'd beyond language to discover ; Believ'd the saint with dread, vindictive hurl, Had spit a thunder bolt — -and all was over ; With a wild shriek, whose terrors can't be painted, Turn'd pale as parsneps, and directly fainted. 70. Guess, if you can, the mighty consternation, That siez'd Miss Julie, on her maiden's fall ; Her joy had risen, like an exhalation, And vanish'd just as speedily an' all ; She look'd at him imploringly and just, Had bent in adoration to the dust. FEMALE FANATICISM. 57 71. When that same door, they had so long been battering With a tremendous crash, gave way — and straight In twice three angels* rush, their hobnails clattering, Upon the pavement at a desp'rate rate ; But oh ! 'tis most distressing to the muse, These heav'nly spirits came in dirty shoes ! 72. Julie's grand staircase, was " besmirch! d+" in truth; But let not this afflict ye much, I pray, Nor think celestials had so little ruth ; These were but angels — " for the working day+." In fact, they were — (nor better much than geese!) A small detachment of the French police. 73. Before them march'd along, most magisterially Enveloped in a Jewish gaberdine — * " Sunt mihi bis septem?' &c. &c— Virgil, f Shakspeare. D 3 58 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OR, With a bald pate, that look'd — oh so imperially*, And reverend beard of most antique design ; The great Saint Peter ! at whose side hung keys, That lock and unlock heav'n's bright gates with ease. 74. Fathers of learning, deeply read in Greek, Think — (and there seems much wisdom in the thought) What we call thunder, only is the creak Of jarring gates, which Peter — as you're taught ; Opes to let pass, with many bows and scrapes, To vast varieties of lovely shapes ! 75. The truth of such a doctrine, I don't vouch, And all I've got to say of master Peter, Is a warm hope, he bears not such a -pouch As doth Saint Thomas,— such a monstrous eater ; Or shrewdly I suspect, each victualling cargo, That enter'd heav'n would suffer an embargo ! * Hence, then, we observe, that the Emperor of Russia's head dress is a palpable plagiarism ! FEMALE FANATICISM. 59 76. Julie, recover'd from each doubt and fear, When she beheld another saint's sweet face ; This night, she thought, would certainly appear, The whole, all-glorious apostolic race ! But mark, oh ! mark, how fleetly joys fly from us, As thus St. Peter did address St. Thomas. 77. •' Oh ! Thomas, Thomas ! how dar'st thou transgress " The laws that were to thee enjoin' d in heav'n ? " For set aside th' immoderate distress, " That must be mine forsooth ; behold th' eleven " With paradise lament, and all that be, " Have left off singing to look after thee! 78. " Now gentle Thomas, — pr'ythee onward troop ; " Brief are the moments, giv'n thee too delay ; " Borne thro' dense clouds, by yon angelic group, " Thou' It bend submissive, where I lead the way : " But as for you, madame,I do entreat, " Have nought to do with spirits that can eat." 60 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OR, 79. Now whilst St. Peter, is haranguing, I May just return to Hermon, in the street r Who could not fail, you may suppose, to spy This host of angels : when he saw them beat Miss Julie's door, with such excessive clatter, The rascal soon imagin'd, what was matter. 80. Whisk ! with a bullet's speed, he flies away, Onward and onward, not a jot delaying ; To an old chapel, where folks us'd to pray ; Yet now, alas ! but little us'd for praying I It stood, " a ruin amid ruins," — 'round Was nought but waste and desolation found. 81. Here, in a subterranean recess, Dwelt imps of darkness — evil-doing dogs ; That like your lawyers, " levy bij distress*," And whom too, conscience very rarely jogs ; * " Thou wouldst know, if property be so safely guarded as is generally believed. It is certain, that the whole power of a FEMALE FANATICISM. 61 Here they carouse, in diabolic glory, And toast the rascals most renown'd in story. 82. Hermon soon reach'd this place, such speed he made, And popping thro' the burrow, like a rabbit, Quickly rous'd up his brethren in the trade, And bade twice six assume an angel's habit ; — Disguises of all sorts, such lads provide, Which hide their tricks, — when rogues have tricks to hide*. 83. The youth, himself became a second Peter, And with his troop, sped swiftly to the house ; No wind, indeed, could possibly be fleeter, E'en tho' old yEolus the blast arouse ! king of England cannot force an acre of land from the weakest of his subjects^ but a knavish attorney will take away his whole estate by those very laws which were'designed for its security." Persian Letters. * Vide Pope's " Rape of the Lock." " Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide." 62 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS^ OR, And just as Peter Senior, with his crew, Brought Thomas forth, the junior came in view. 84. A dozen strapping fellows, against six, E'en magnanimity, I think must say, (However we may " kick against the pricks,") Would hardly be in Britain thought fair play ; And Frenchmen, in such cases, are not nice, Running, besides, is national exercise! 85. So off ran Guillaume with the rest, and left Thomas to joy in this successful plan ; But ah ! of what a strain, are you bereft — The fight of angels — and the fall of man ! Oh ! what great things, which might have come to light, Are now enveloped in eternal night ! 86. Ay — fate is most omnipotent ; and so I yield to fate. Gladly would I rehearse Some bloody despVate deed ; because I know 'Twould spin another canto into verse ! FEMALE FANATICISM. 63 And yet, it may not be ; well ! " let that pass," What is to be, will be ; what was to be so — was!* 87. St. Peter and St. Thomas now in union Enter'd again Miss Julie's ; and expounded In earthly phrase, — how they in sweet communion TV ambitious enemies of heav'n confounded ; And then they said, a demon, most uncivil, Had borrow'd Peter's form — to wit — the devil ! 88. That Uriel, an angel, quite respectable, Who lodges " at the sun," — had seen him winging To earth, and as it was from thence collectible To be no legal flight, directly ringing, He sent a waiter with the strictest orders, To watch the rebel spirit to earth's borders. * I am told, this stanza is a Byrunism ; I hope not — for, " Byron, with all thy faults, 1 love thee still!" But I fear this acknowledgment too much resembles the gnat upon the bull's horn ! 64 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS 3 OR, 89. There he beheld him take St. Peter's form, And then proceeding, the best road to Paris — The waiter presently perceiv'd a storm ; And so the news to Paradise he carries ; For Uriel's lodgings were remoter far, Whilst Paradise was but a neighbouring star. 90. " And Julie," — thus went on the rogue St. Peter, " I wist St. Thomas had descended here, " And Satan — who in truth's a clever cheater, " I judg'd might probably presume t'appear " In arms, 'gainst him unarm'd and without aid, " Which brought me too, oh I most immaculate maid. 91. " But now sweet Saint! thy mission quick dispatch, " Time hurries onward at a fearful rate, " And I the gates of Paradise must watch !" Said Thomas ; " Julie, we do want thy plats, " For a great feast is coming on, and we " Do take it, for we love thy piety .'" FEMALE FANATICISM. 65 92. Are there who laugh at Julie's superstition, Wisely incredulous ? Let such that are, Turn their sagacious eyes; the same condition They'll find, I warrant, without glancing far ! Who tremble at the rustling leaf— nay boast, To've seen the saucer eyeballs of a ghost ? 93. Who shudder, if perchance the salt be spilt? Who, if the knife and fork alack ! be cross'd, With humble reverence turn aside the hilt, Lest some invaluable gem be lost ? Who 1 why the greater part of this great nation, Do more or less, feel the infatuation* ! 94. Then think it not impossible that Julie, Should in this vision of supreme delight * I once knew a lady (whether akin to the Pythian Prophetess er not, is a matter of doubt) who could augur great things from the peculiar cocking of a magpie's tail ! — and now, even as of yore • — " Seepe sinistra cava prsedixit ab ilice comix." — Vino. 66 THE COUNTERFEIT SAINTS; OR, Yield up, not merely plate and jewels coolly, But all that came unluckily in sight : The Saints oft blest her, and 'mongst other things, Promis'd to send a splendid pair of wings ! 95. Poor Julie ! very little had she need Of wings ; alas ! Imagination's bore her Too far beyond her altitude ; indeed, But few e'er soar'd so loftily before her ! Yet that there may be some, who've wing'd as high, I fancy, 'tis not many will deny. 96. Folly will not be limited, or madness, And I imagine, carried to excess; It yields a melancholy sort of gladness, That tortures half — and half perhaps may bless: But then destroy th' illusion, — all is ended, And, fancy's long lov'd light, with night's deep gloom is blended. 97. For, when the dearest hopes, that warm the heart In youth enkindled, and in age awake ; FEMALE FANATICISM. 67 Twin'd with the very soul of all thou art, Fade — why the heart itself, perforce must break ; Snap, like a high-stretch'd lutestring, and the tone, No more resembles, what we once have known ! 98. And such the lot of her, who so believ'd, Returning reason dawn'd — but not to save ; Enough to point the phantom that deeeiv'd ; Then sunk — like lamps hid in the damp cold grave ! Yet left's the tale ; I've tagg'd a moral to it, Because the ladies — " like a moral poet*." * I have taken this, I confess, upon report ; but, I trust, I am sirculating no libel, 1 TO THE WHOLE RACE OF TERRESTRIAL OR OTHERWISE, THESE COME GREETING. v^kitics, ye're cross old Gentlemen, I'm told — And most prodigiously delight in snubbing : Permit me just to make a little bold, And thank ye not to pickle me a drubbing ; Or — (tho' I don't suppose he mill forsake ye) I may sincerely wish, " The Devil take ye I" Yet, in the name of wonder, Noble Crits! What could he make of ye with all this hasting? Ah me ! I fear, to turn his cursed spits, And give poor scribbling folks a hearty hasting. Farewell ! be merciful ; and tho' but men, I'll dream you're angels, nay — arc/t-angels, then ! ffultan* A FRAGMENT. What tigre or what other salvage wight, Is so exceeding furious and fell, As wrong, when it hath arm'd itselfe with might? Not fit 'mongst men that do with reason mel, But 'mongst wilde beasts and salvage woods to dwell. Faerie jlueene. 3>uitau* A FRAGMENT. I. Heard ye the tramp of steeds in yonder glen? Mark'd ye the squadron, winding down the steep? Tho' the still hour of midnight, thou may'stken The stern array of death ; who soon shall sweep That host away, — and scarce an eye will weep The wrack he leaves behind. "Where heroes trod. Where heroes died, the husbandman shall reap, And heedless trample en the hallow'd sod, That hides from human eye, the image of a God ! 74 JULIAN. II. But say ; in night's dim veil, why horsemen throng, Cautiously must'ring in yon gloomy dell ? Cheer'd not by trumpet, rous'd not by the song That wakes the soul of war 1 No martial swell Echoes along; silent as by a spell Onward they move : — and hark ! that loud alarm, Now do they play the part of cowards well ; By heav'nl they fly, the dastards spurn the palm That aye should firm the heart, and nerve the warrior* arm ! III. Yet such they seem not : — and in sooth, again Embattled re-appear, the scatter'd troop I What means that hasty course along the plain, The shrill halloo, and wide resounding whoop ? Perhaps some foe, pursues the timid group, Or they but feign to fly, — then wait the attack ! Like the fierce vulture, ere with fearful swoop. She pounce upon her victim's feather'd back, Hov'ring, she hangs awhile, then cleaves the airy track. JULIAN. f5 IV. And such their fate! behind a jutting rock They skulk : the adverse bands make head, Rush unprepar'd-^and sink beneath the shock ! Where is their once presumptuous boasting sped ? Life, honour, all — in one sad moment fled ! Deem'd they forsooth, that warriors would submit Without one struggle? Not thus wolves have bled, Not thus, the steed is broken to the bit, — And shall proud man alone, stoop as proud man think; fit? V. Stoop ! oh ! 'tis grating to the meanest ear^- Think then, how galling to a soul of pride, A fiery heart, submission loth to bear, Or stem th' impetuous flow of passion's tide :— And such the heart of him, who now did ride Heading the victor troop ; 'twas he first drew With sinewy arm, the sabre from his side; And, as his glance, caught its ensanguin'd hue, His vengeful soul beat high, and on the warrior flew. e 2 76 JUXIAV. VI. Thou — that ambition's treacherous heights would dare, And madly tempt the dangers of its way ; The rock thy grasp, will loosen, — yet beware For if it fall, no pow'er its force can stay I 'Twas to ambition, Julian, fell a prey. The noble proud Lord Julian ; once he rose As the young eagle, springs to meet the day, But scaling heav'n, ere yet that day had close, His weary pinions sunk, the scorn of haughty foes. VII. It boots not to unfold, his fortunes past, The pow'r that dragg'd him downward ; 'tis enough He fell — and like the tempest riven mast, Crush'd all beneath him : Tho' the shock was rough. His callous soul, but spurn'd the fierce rebuff, On blood he rose, nor dropt one pitying tear ! Alas ! ambition, should be sterner stuff; Compassion, vainly looks for refuge there, In whose dark wild domain, she ever finds a bier ! JULIAN. 77 VIII. Beneath a larch-crown'd mountain's haughty brow, Where stand the ruins of an ancient pile, He and his followers fled — sole refuge now ! Proudly magnificent it once did smile, Tho' now the ivy creep along the aisle, And its decaying pillars scarce support The tott'ring tow'rs. But a little while, And thou shalt mourn its lofty honours brought To nothing : nothing ! lo, it is already nought ! IX. In its dilapidated halls, the jay And rook, hoarse screaming, seem to Fancy's eye, To mourn the ravages of Time's dread sway, And o'er its ashes croak the funeral cry. There, if the roving hunter chance to pry, Or to secure his prize, the robber wight, Redoubled clamours fill the vaulted sky — Then wheeling round and round, in airy flight, Pitch on the ruin'd tow'r, or in the field alight. 7S JULIAN. X. By scenes of mirth and joyous pastime, caught Haply of yore, gay triflers flutter'd here, Sporting till loath' d satiety had wrought The death of sense, and clos'd the mad career: E'en then did beauty turn a willing ear To him who breath'd the adulating strain ; And still, to heart of woman, what so dear? Ah me! how seldom hath it breath'd in vain — The ear the Serpent charm'd, what charm shall free again ? XL But my Muse wanders from her beaten track, To what might haply be. What was, what is, Should now demand her song. The mighty wrack Of ages, is as nothing : present bliss And present woe weigh heavy, and to this The heart of man is thrall ; except the few Who desp'rately dash down life's precipice, Careless of all ; to them, the fond adieu Of hearts enchain'd by love, assumes no sadd'ning hue. JULIAN. 79 XII. To them the sigh of hope, the trickling tear, That wars with nature in the human heart, That should speak grief — yet is joy's harbinger, From whence dear pleasures, long untasted, start Back into life — to them no care impart ! But wherefore linger? To that Chief I turn, Whose hopes defeat but nourish'd, tho' the smart Of ruin'd fortunes, made his proud soul burn With a still, smother'd fire, like embers in the urn HG> JULIAN. XIII. High birth, and lofty hopes, were Julian's ; never So fair a blossom met the sun's warm ray ; The blast of pride came — blighted it for ever, And his dark soul no mere beheld the day ! Yet it was great — 'twas form'd for greatness ; they Who first its dawn had witness'd, deem'd it bright As ever beam'd in boyhood's young essay ; But when to man it ripened 1 — Oh let night Hide, in her densest shroud, the awful truth from bight ! JULIAN. 81 XIV. Fell he alone? 'Mid iron solitude Was there not one who cheer'd the lingering hours, And calm'd his spirit's haught, impatient mood, By spells all mighty ? scatter'd a few flow'rs Upon his dreary way ? In gloomy bow'rs Few enter, ay but few with gentle care Warm the cold heart, that feels the deadening pow'rs Of a long train of ills. They come not there Where the lone couch is press'd by sick'ning wan despair. XV. But he had one ; one comforter, who shed The meed of pity, tho' he claim'd it not, Whose fortune, fame — whose heart for him had bled, Had deeply bled ! Could this be all forgot ? Ill-fated Laura, may the hand that shot The poisoned arrow in thy youthful breast, So fond and so devoted ! May his lot Be still to seek, in vain to seek, for rest ; A mark for shudd'ring man, to point at, and detest ! e 5 £2 JULIAN. XVI. Her fair arm rested on the mossy stone, And her dark tresses floated in the gale, That thro' the ruin pour'd a gentle moan, Like the soft sigh of sympathy, the tale Of sorrow draws ! * * JULIAN. 83 XVII. # # * * * Thro' the flow'ry vale (Flow'ry no more), war's clamorous voice was heard, And Julian, triumph'd in the bitter wail Of widows, and ef orphans ; but the word " Destroy," rose up a prayer of vengeance to heav'n's Lord! XVIII. And now, yon bloody standard, in the eye Of his ambitious hopes, wav'd far and wide, Blazing in all the pomp of victory ! Again his soul, soaring on wings of pride Savagely pour'd along the furious tide, Of war, and crime, and horror; o'er his head His beamy falchion, waving, fell to hide Its brightness, but in death's dark sheath ; — it sped Like the strong lightning flash, vindictive, fierce and red. S4 JULIAV. XIX. On, on he flew ; thro' the impetuous fray, The straining eye scarce follows where his might. Swept down th' opposing host, whose fair array • Now broken, sunk beneath the blast, and flight Starting, on phrenzied wing, forsook the fight. But this the fate alone, where Julian fought Desp'rately brave : not far upon the right An aged warrior toil'd: nor he untaught To guide the strength of war, with glorious trophies fraught. XX. Unspent the vigour of that arm, tho" time And sorrow's keener pow'r, its force assail'd, And had perchance impair'd; yet many a clime Its mightiness had felt : the lofty quail'd Before it; direly the oppressor wail'd, Its patriot indignation ! — In decay Amid the battle's fury, it prevail'd, And thrice, had turn'd the fortune of that day, Which mighty wrongs provok'd — wrongs blood alone could pay ! 85 XXL Julian, enraged, beheld the squadron yield* To that bold leader, and his martial few ; " Dastards," he shouted, and the blood stain'd field Echoed the sound ; full well his warriors knew Tts fearful tone, and to th' attack they flew ; 'Twere better to sustain the whirling blade Of death itself, than the proud chieftain view In his dark mood. Something unearthly play'd, In that full eye's stern glance, — they felt it, and obey'd ! XXII. Fiercely he rush'd along, where 'mid the shock Of adverse hosts, the aged warrior fought, Still unsubdued : — 'Gainst a projecting rock Wounded he stood at bay, by toil and draught O'erpower'd, yet firm ; until his keen eye caught The flash of vengeance there : then swiftly sunk Their clashing sabres. Rapidly as thought Stroke follows stroke, till Julian's weapon drunk The valiant heart's best blood, and reeling, fell the trunk ! 86 JULIAN. XXIII. Where the tall sycamore, and graceful ash Drink the cool freshness of the summer stream, The lost one, sorrow'd. Like a meteor flash Across the firmament, had been the dream Of youthful fancy ! oh ! so bright the beam, So glorious too, — her soul had caught its flame To burn, nor be extinguish'd : the dear theme That dy'd her cheek in blushes of sweet shame, And bade her bright eyes glow, — was Julian's morning- fame ! 87 XXIV. Wealth may attract, and titles oft allure The female soul, but Laura, felt the glow Of a devoted heart, as bright, as pure, When glory twin'd her wreath around the brow, Of him she lov'd ; — alas ! how darken'd now The light of her young hopes ; — and such shall be Thy fate, who mak'st thine idol^ and dost bow Before th' ignoble shrine, a patient knee — A y, such shall be thy fate, then weep, weep bitterly ! XXV. 'Twas evening, and the stars sparkling above Diffused their radiance round. The time gone by, And those dear hours of extacy, when love So sweetly shone, return'd, — but as the eye Of thought shot thro' the past, the chilling sigh Of agony arose. Her father left 'Mid life's dark woes, to feel the misery A thankless child prepar'd him ! Oh this cleft Her erring heart in twain, of joy, of hope bereft. 88 XXVI. The lone lorn tear, crept down her pallid cheek. Wrench'd from its frozen souree ! In bitterness Too exquisite to tell, she vow'd to wreak Curses on her undoer; — to redress Her sorrows, and her wrongs, (whose fierce excess Destroy'd her youthful excellence) — and die ! But her heart could not curse him, — it could bless, 'Twas made for blessing, tho' the scornful eye Of him, who won the gem, regardless pass'd it by ! JULIAN. 85) XXVII. ;i What! whining still fond thing? those eyes should " shoot •' Love's burning fires, — thou quenehest them chastt " maid, " No more on't pr'ythee, touch thy magic lute, " And charm some wand'ring sylphid to thy aid !" In covert scorn he spoke ; trembling, dismay'd Vainly she strove : " Cease, cease, the jarring strain, " Poor melancholy fool, when I am laid " Deep in the grave's dark nothingness ; again " Weep, if thou lov'st it so — I hate thy sick'ning plain ! XXVIII. " To night I'll pledge thee, and thou too shalt quaff, " From such a glorious bowl, the sparkling wine " That it will sparkle brighter; and the laugh " Of merriment bid that dull soul of thine " Leap in a glad delirium ! Barnardine, " Give me the bowl of victory, — there pour " The vine's rich juice ; 'tis heav'n to hearts like mine!" His henchman came, — a skull, yet warm he bore, Thro' whose long hoary locks, drop'd mingled win» and gore ! 90 JULIAN. XXIX. Flash'd the dark eye of Laura, as he held Malignantly exulting to her lip The tomb's foul spoil, which shudd'ring she repell'd: " So my coy fair one, thou disdain'st to sip *' The proffer'd blessing ; 'tis a goodly scrip " Of eloquence however, nor e'er yet " Spoke it so soundly ; 'tis the very tip " Of orat'ry ! come drink, and thou'lt forget " List'ning to its soft strain, thy heart's foreboding threat." XXX. Loathing, she turn'd away. — " Drink Laura, drink, " And thou shalt yet hear more — much more ; " Thy wanton soul, why start? would scarcely think, " This gorgeous canopy, contain'd the store " Of— brains, would'st term them ? — that did subtly pour " Immeasurable ruin on my head! " Kneel to it gentle Laura, and adore " Its mightiness ! Oh may his earthy bed " Be an immortal curse— such, such as I would spread !" JULIAN. 91 XXXI. Had'st thou beheld the phrenzied staring eye, That Laura, darted at th' infernal chief, It would have palsied thy young frame ! the sigh That follow' d too, was horrible, — belief Staggers in her wild flight : it was a grief, That thou may'st/eeZ, not tell! Madly she spoke, " My father, oh ! my father!" — as a leaf Drops, blasted from its withered branch, the stroke Came o'er her shatter'd soul, and the worn heartstring broke ! XXXII. Her dull glaz'd eyeball, on the chief was turn'd In all death's gloomy terror : then, but then, His haughty spirit consciously burn'd 'Mid the decay of nature ! 92 JULIAN. XXXIII. " Father, a tale of anguish thou hast heard, " But I have felt it — oh how deeply felt ! " Curs'd be those honors, for they but conferr'd " The misery I endure and must. Impell'd " By pride and fell ambition, I have held " My steady course along — a noxious star, " Shedding its baneful influence ; I've swell'd " The stream of desolation ; pour'd afar " The thirsty scourge of fate, thro' all the ranks of war! 95 XXXIV. " I won — I trampled on the loveliest flow'r " That ever blossom'd, near the lonely cell ; " I might have sav'd it from the winter's pow'r, " But demons bade me, and it fell — it fell ! " For this I suffer all the pains of hell, " For this my soul burns, deathless it must burn, " And know no healing ! When I'm dead thou'lt tell " My woeful story, — bid the stranger turn " From the proud Julian's hopes — to his unhonor'd urn I" DR. MAC SAP; ©fie ff&Um &tet. A TALE. His mountain back mote well be said To measure height against his head, And lift itself above; Yet, spite of all that nature did, To make his uncouth form forbid — This creature dar'd to love ! Parnell. DR. MAC SAP, 1. '*n Love ! what a sly little urchin art thou 1" Hath often been sung, by sweet bards, male and fe- male, "Who sigh'd as they felt thee, they could not tell' how, Heaving the heart, like a bark that we see sail; Tumbled and tost by the wild waves of ocean, Ready to sink at one moment, and then, As if it had taken a brisk working potion, Rapidly shoot up to heav'n again! Such thou art, Love, say the songs and the singers ; And if it be true, what a turbulent lad ; Good heav'n, no wonder that wisdom should bring us Strait jackets, and bid us be chain'd up for mad; r 98 DR. MAC SAP: OR, Should curse all thy witcheries ; spurn at thy wiles; And like gold on a coffin, see death in thy smiles \ 2. For me, tho' the bells of gay folly should sound, And the cap (so delightful to most !) should be found Adorning my head ; I so doat on thy charms, Little Love 1 I must live — ay, and die in thy arms. Why wisdom may frown : let her rail if she will, To the last ebb of life, I'm thy votary still, Whilst loving and lov'd; let who will head her cries : I'll tell her 'tis folly — 'tis base to be wise ! But wisdom may fall down the precipice too, In pursuit of a brilliant cameleon hue; May feel (the fine sneers of its excellence past) 'Tis caught by a vapour — a nothing, at last ; And will raise large pretensions to folly, as soon As another, and cry like a child for the moon ! 'Tis then that we laugh, loudly vulgarly laugh, At the vast erudition that made him a calf; Then proudly we crow o'er the arrogant elves, That deeming us mad —prove the madmen themselve?. THE FALLEN STAR. 99 4. Doctor M'Sap was a man of some breeding ; O'er Scotia's bleak regions there liv'd not a wight, For learning so fam'd — of such wonderful reading, As he of whom now I've the honour to write ! He was — and re-echo it, all ye fair vallies, Ye mountains sublime, with your snow-cover'd tops, Throw, throw the proud tidings as far as that wall is Where the bright flaming bound of the universe stops ; He was, so profoundly immers'd amid sines, 'Mid co-sines and tangents — 'mid Greek too, and Latin — So vers'd in the sound of Falernian wines — That oh ! if the carcase, like minds, we could fatten, It had never been his, I will venture to say, To have slept upon sounds at the close of the day ; To have dreamt o'er a page of Horatian treats, Or guess how a hog nicely barbecu'd eats : No, no : he'd have gorg'd a brave supper, instead Of wind in his stomach, and froth in his head ! 5. Yet learning he had ; and ('tis fit the world know it) On each fair occasion could learnedly show it, f 2 100 dr. mac sap; on. Argumentum absunlo, he R. MAC sap; OR, 41. 'Tis silence around, and how sadly ye stand, Ye lovers, as touch'd by some magical wand ! Rouse Dr. Mac Sap, all your courage arouse, Think no more, think no more, of the whys and the hows. 'Tis bravery wins all the beauteous and fair, And 'tis this must alone win that excellence there ! 42. " Miss — Lady Matilda," the doctor began. Not a sound, not a decimal part of a word, Gave the wish'd for response, to this desperate man. Who had spoken, so much, to the child of a Lord ! What now shall he do ? He had heard 'twas a rule 'Mongst the fair, that dull silence, gives hearty consent: And heard, the short time he had been in love's school, 'Twixt lovers, a kiss was a pleasing event ! Such boldness was horror ; but then, did he not, Offence might be giv'n, tho' he hardly knew how ; So unus'd to the art, he had almost forgot, If perform'd on the nose, on the lip, or the brow ! What must be done, must be, who is there can doubt it .' The doctor himself, altho' giv'n to distrust, THE FALLEN STAR. 123 Would allow a self-evident truth had about it, A something that even uncertainty must Yield up without contest— so no other book did, Demonstrate its truth, but that sage fellow Euclid. 43. Well, the " mast" being allow'd him the how follows next : And oh ! what great men, have small matters perplext j Some yield up their fame, to one error political, And lovers their bliss, in a moment, as critical ! One unfortunate "point," unprovided for, starts (Tho' doctors say, form'd nor of "greatness or parts* ;") And o'erwhelms in the maze it created, the learning, That pompously boasted, of nicely discerning ; And proves, without wisdom, or logical skill, Good sense is victoriously eminent still ! 44. But some way Necessity wills him ; the Fair Unmov'd and in silence, dejectedly there * " A point is that which hath no parts, or which hath no mag- nitude,"-— Definitions. i c Z6 »K. Mac sap; ok. Seem'd lo hope his advance ; (at least so, I suppose. For the fair seldom love to be far from their beaux : ) And at last, after long evolutions of thought, His contemplative mood, into action was brought I " Oh! Virgin, I come !" with deliberate pace He gravely stalk'd up to that sweet bashful face ; Then extending his lips to their utmost extent, And with wonderful force, a loud sigh giving vent, He rush'd to th' attack ! But oh ! earth, sea and skies, There came from the maiden's mouth, nostril and eyes. A black liquid ocean, that spirting outright, Shot direct in the doctor's large organs of sight ! 45. Oh ! Heav'n ! what sounds from this lover arose, As the water, in floods, trickled down from his nose; As it forc'd itself channels in many a place, And mark'd with fair streaks his magnificent face! Oh Heav'n ! how echoed the roof with his cries, As the puddle, in floods, trickled into his eyes ! Rage swell'd his big heart; in a fury he flew, And — (ill luck betide thee, oh doctor !) o'erthrew That kind loving maid; but he shar'd the disgrace, And prostrate reolin'd, 'mid the gloom of the place! THE FALLEN STAR. 127 46. Now burst in upon them, resplendent as noon, (Or, since it is eve, we will mention — the moon !) The black and the blue, and the soft hazel eye, While loud peels of laughter exultingly fly ; &nd around the poor culprit, the mirth-loving throng, (As asham'd and crest fallen, he yet lay along), Buz like moths round a half wasted taper at night, That haply escape from the blaze of its light 47. But worse the confusion, his senses possessed, When he found, oh ! ye gods ! 'twas a puppet he'd prest ; 'Twas a puppet drest up, like my lady, which he Had mistaken, for that, he so wish'd it to be ; And he saw but too clearly, tho' hard to believe, That a man of his learning, young maids could de- ceive ; That a man of his great mathematical skill, Was no match for a woman ; and bitterer still, The thought that his name, would be handed about, The scorn of each ignorant, mischievous lout ! 128 DK. MAC SAP; 0]{, the fallen stah. 48. Oh! -worlds would he give, to escape from the string That mock his disaster, and jceringly fling. Condolement of sorrows, those eyes must bespeak, That could thus have bedew'd his magnanimous cheek "Twas too much, 'twas too cutung for even the one, Whose vanity bade him, be practis'd upon : So wildly enraged, without utt'ring a word, He fled from their taunts — from the house of my lord ' With many an excellent vow, in his wrath To hate all the sex, as the snake in his patli ; To fly, as the greatest of pests that invade, A. frolicksome horse, and a frolicksome maid, ©mat. AN EASTERN TALE. This is the state of Man; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of Hope ; to-morrow blossoms, And bears \i\>. flushing honors, thick upon him : The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost, And, — when he th'nks, good easy man, tall surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. Shakspeaue's Hex. VIIL G 5 ©mar* Auream quisquis mediocritatem Diligit, tutus caret obsoleti Sordibus tecti, caret invidenda Sobrius aula. Hon. •'< Oh ! be but humble, and thou shalt be happy, " Nor writhe beneath the heart-consuming pangs " That rack th' ambitious soul; and tho' thy days " Pass not along, in undisturb'd repose, " Nor all thy nights be tranquil, — (for such bliss " To hope were vain !) yet happiness may be 1" Thus spoke the hoary sage of Aubukabis*, And soft as music, floating o'er a hill * A mountain to the east of Mecca, 1 132 OMAK. Wafted by summer's breath, upon a vale Of fiow'ry sweets, — fell all the words of wisdom. On Omar's listening ear* and so they sunk, Calming his troubled soul : " It is, my son, " The lot of some to climb the trackless paths " Cf fortune's adverse steep, adverse indeed " When most she favours ! vigorous they ascend •' Of toil, of danger, and of death regardless, " And furiously push on : how few succeed, " To touch the envied glitter ! Say they do, " Say ev'ry hope completed ; even so. •' View that emaciated frame, fatigue 44 And dread anxieties of ill, have worn " To a poor atomv. Oh! wilt thou then 4 ' Dream still ? wouldst thou then seize the splendid bowl, " And quaff its nectar' d poison? Go, my r - o 1 1 , *' Be wise, and to her heav'nly arms, True Bliss " Shall woo thee !" Thou hast seen The dark cloud big with waters, whilst a glory Bright and ineffable, around its edge From the departing sun, shone forth 3 and seen OMAR. 133 When his wide glaring orb had disappeared, That cloud wax cold and colder ! Omar so Felt all the warm impression fade away, As his eye, follow'd up, the lessening form Of wisdom's reverend counsellor: in sooth To list that soft persuasive tongue, to mark The whiten'd blossoms of the grave, that fell Adown his aged temples, all unmov'd, Were not to be a man : and Omar's heart Yielded due credence, but could yield no more- lie, was as a rock, down which the cataract Leaps thund'ring, but whose indurated bed Long laughs defiance at the falling mass ! •' The prophet's will be done," the youth exclaim'd, And forward trod, whilst ever and anon, lie thus held dangerous commune with his heart: ; ' Shall I ingloriously my day consume, • ; Life's little day, nor trace the path to heav'n ? " Thou err'st old man : thy subtle spell-fraught tongue *' Speaks falsely '. Can it be th' all righteous will •■ To light up fires, that must annihilate • ; The creatures he has made .' Would he have giv'n •' Aspiring thoughts, nor will'd me to aspire, 134 OMAR. " Or willing, desolate all hope of bliss " When prov'd ? old man, it cannot be I" So murmuring he sped, and ere the eve Mournfully turn'd her dark and tearful eye, On the world's hated throng ; high minarets And tow'rs of holy Mecca, dimly seen, Like visionary forms amid the gloom Rose on his wavering sight. Here turban'd head? Of many a dye, mov'd variously along, Like gaudy flow'rets scatter'd by the storm : And there, the bright ey'd beauties of the east Within their rosy tinctur'd veils conceal'd, .Started along his path ; while oft the sound Of golden bells, that gracefully adorn The beauteous neck of Love's devoted fair (Whose long voluptuous lashes, shaded not The eye of fire, beneath), floated around, And in the breeze of Even, died away. Omar pass'd on, unheeding thro' the crowd, And as unheeded ! little thought, the gay And busy world, bestows upon the brow OMAR. 135 Of sadness and of care ; e'en Azrael comes Unnoted ; still the long loud laugh Of merriment goes on, and like the ocean foam — One bubble bursts, and others still succeed ! Amurath, Now reign'd, the dark destroying Amurath, And Omar his vizier : 'twere long to tell The acts of blood and horror that o'er ran The kingdom of the prophet! The dire lists Of death swell' d hourly, and the people's cry By force suppress'd, now broke out, like a stream That bursts its flood banks, and o'erwhelms the hope Of a fair harvest's promise! Omar saw The threatening storm, and shunn'd its violence, Fay' ring the rebel powr's — himself the first, The mightiest! It may be, the wan form Of his enfeebled country, first inspir'd His soul to vengeance for her wrongs ; but thence, Thence sprang a latent cause, that darkly twining, Hung like the adder, and instill'd its poison In his unquiet breast : he was ambitious, And when the step from nothing to a throne — From the slave subject, to the despot king, 136 OMAR. Appear'd so safe and easy ; then arose Black thoughts, that spoke forsooth of damning crimes. But so gilt o'er by sophistry's deceit, They proudly glitter'd in the borrow'd forms Of justice and of peace ! " Yes, he must die, " And mine too, let it be from death's cold hand " To snatcli the wreath of popular applause! " Ay, then shall I be honor'd, and 'tis meet; — ■ " Who risks the greatest, should receive the most ' " But if I fail — the prophet's will be done, " 'Tis he inspires me, and it must be right, " 'Tis he inspires me, and I must be bless'd L" Thus he ; and ah ! how many have believ'd The will of passion is the will of God, And call'd their fond imaginings divine! How many maddened dreamers there exist Who wander o'er destruction's flow'ry paths, And deem heav'n's hand directs them on the way I The golden chain that binds us, is so fine, So subtly wove, the soul in slavery dwells, Yet fancies she is free ! Uproar, and that wild anarchy, that founds Her mightiness on horror, ruled the day. 137 And night escap'd not the infectious touch : Now thro' the royal halls of Amurath, Loose mirth's inebriated form had sunk Like the expiring taper's ray — loathsome And darkly flashing, till at length extinct The gloom and still of night, assum'd again Their melancholy sway : cloth'd in the hue Of living death, the trembling anxious Omar (Himself, commission'd harbinger of death !) Bent his reluctant, and yet eager steps In cautious silence, thro' long corridors And rooms of regal state : The guard, remov'd,, Presented free access to his fell hopes : But to his soul, the solemn warning voice Of conscience, yet alive, spoke audibly. It whisper'd, murderer, inhuman murderer; It bade remembrance, tell of days gone by, Of Omar, rais'd to glory — honor'd, lov'd, By him he would destroy ; and then it rung Ingratitude, black base ingratitude : Like spirits muttering o'er a grave! appall'd He shrunk before the monitor, but yet Turn'd not away : ah ! no, the blood stain'd wreath) 138 OMAR. Ambition, twines around her votary's soul, Is as indissoluble, as the links Of Fate's eternal will,' — and 'tis as hard For mortal strength to break ! Onward he pass'd, with that determin'd fear Which cowards have assum'd amid despair, And so, done boldly: but He never knew, Until this darken'd hour, the withering blast Guilt spreads upon the soul, and till this hour His heart had been undaunted. He had brav'd War, in ten thousand rugged shapes, but ne'er Felt half the horrors of a scene like this ! The tyrant slumber'd o'er the gilded couch, Breathing last eve's debauch. His very rest Perturb'd and fearful, whilst a dreary smile Play'd with such ghastliness upon his brow As had affrighted horror, and excell'd His deepest, phrenzied mood ! The eye-balls sunk And fixt on air, inanimately dim, Mock'd living nature, and bequeath'd to death, More terror, than he brought! OMAIt. 139 Still Omar gaz'd, Fearfully gaz'd, upon that awful sight, And half forbore the stroke ; but now to turn Argued a weakness, which his soul despis'd. Died he or not, the morrow must display Rebellion's crimson'd banner, streaming round, And one — as he, ambitious of a throne, Usurp dominion, and to death consign The envied favourite of a tyrant lord ! Here, hesitation ceas'd ; the sparkling blade Descended, whirling thro' the gloom of night, And dy'd its lustre in that heart, the chill Of inhumanity had frozen o'er. The black blood slowly trickled, and a groan, One agonizing groan, rung the sad knell Of his unwept decay, while death's dark angel Bore from a gladden'd world, the evil one That troubled all its peace ! Hark, oh hark! Heardst thou, but now, a deep drawn bitter sigh That seem'd to rend in twain, the o'er-fraught breast It sprang from ? Was it fancy all? again It meets the ear, and Omar trembling stands, A.nd awe-struck ; there, there, the shadowy drapery 140 Shakes, — tho' without the breeze hath died away. And not a leafs in motion ! Sure some pow'r Hastes to avenge the bloody massacre, And hurl the fated thunder at that form, So pale and tremulous ! One busy moment Rife with despair like this ! Oh ! it had arm'd Against divinity his impious hand : He would have struck — (so hopeless seem'd his fate !) Tho' pregnant with eternity of woe ! With a strange savage laughter, he uprais'd An unstain'd sabre, that had grac'd his side But on high days of festival, (such day The last bright morning smil'd on) nor ere yet Had drank red slaughter, from the rapid tide Of all o'erwhelming war. P'iercely it fell Where the sad sounds had utterance, and blood Warm human blood, from the pure spring of life Follow'd the blow : a fearful, deathly shriek Succeeded, as convulsively there rush'd To his scarce conscious ken, a beauteous form, Like the struck dove from the entangled brake, Wet with her own heart's blood : her tresses hung In wild disorder, o'er a brow, that shone With a pale sickly lustre, but e'en so In excellence unrivall'dl wildly too OMAR. 141 Eyes that once beam'd but tenderness, and seem'd Image of love's divinity, to which All hearts were sacrific'd ; and whose bright flame Consum'd the offering, but new splendour shot O'er the pure altar's holiness ! how dim How darkling now. and oh ! could virtue say Its purity was still, still undehTd ? A groan of anguish from the bleeding fair Gave back to Omar's soul, the fleeting sense, And drove the filmy darkness from his eye: He look'd — again, and dreadfully he look'd On this young lovely one. Oh ! could it be? Was it a vision that he saw, and what Its monstrous import I In a madd'ning voice Loud, and as terrible as his, the fiend*, Whose fearful tones, on the last awful day, Will rouse the sinner from his mould'ring tomb He spake: " Woman, who — what art thou V A sich of deepest bitterness was all, All his foreboding heart had need I It was * Monkcr. 142 OMAR. (And fate could curse no deadlier,) the one, The chosen one, in whom all life, all love, That warm'd his youlhful bosom, was concenter'di 'Twas his own darling Zara ; she, for whom He first but dream'd of honor, and for whom He woo'd the name of regicide! Now, now He felt ingratitude's severest sting; — A damned one's torments, for he felt them just : Hell hath no fire more terrible than that Which burns the trusting heart, betray'd to death By all it lov'd the dearest, and he, too Of harsh experience, tried the bitter fruit! True, Amurath was a tyrant, and he died A tyrant's death ; but 'twas not thine to kill — Not thine, ungrateful traitor ! He who shed The early dew upon the springing fiow'r, And beam'd bright rays of sunshine, merited No such return! Thou feel'st it now, indeed. Heavily, heavily — one dark hour too late! Oh '. the decrees of heav'n are wondrous : they rise Amid intensest darkness ; but the flash Of Justice strikes the unexpecting world, And thro' its dread magnificence appears 143 The hand of the Omnipotent! Then swells The vengeful storm of Fate; the guilty then May tremble, for they feel, and they confess, The Lord is God, and mighty to destroy! That bitter drop, on Omar's woe-blanch' d pheek, Bespeaks his fearful agony of heart : Zara, the fall n Zara, beauteous still, E'en amid guilt and death, clasp'd his cold knees, Upholding scarce their burden ; whilst her eya (That eye, whose ever-varying glance, his soul Once rapturously hail'd, now turn'd Dim 'mid the damps of death!) sought mercy yet ;. Not in warm hope of life — for that was past, Fleeting like guilty dreams : " Canst thou forgive " A wretch like me '?" — at intervals, she said, Gasping for breath — whilst ev'ry passing word Struck like a datrffer, the lorn heart of Omar ; " Canst thou forgive th' enormity of wrong " I've done to thee 1 Didst thou but know the toils " That won me to destruction, thou wouldst pity, " And then, perhaps, wouldst pardon one so lost! :t But I could never tell thee all — 'tis too, 5 ' Too terrible, and conscience — oh! it burns, 144 OMAU, " It maddens me: more deadly pangs lie there, " Than all thy dooming sabre can inflict " On this adulterous breast ! Omar, dear Omar, " I die — but do not curse me; Alia then " May pardon- thee!" The wings of Azrael, Striking the midnight air, were heard afar; And as her spirit fled, the angel's breath Chill' d the warm fount of life, and Zara sunk A pallid corse, in that red shroud of blood! The verdant branch, by gentle force essay'd, May bend unbroke; but suddenly constrain' d From nature's course, it spurns the rude assault, And snapping — fades for ever on (he stem ! Thus died the lofty hopes ambition rais'd — Thus sunk into decay the aspiring Omar ; Whose busy mind, weigh'd by unforeseen, Unthought of evil — could sustain no more; And die pure ray that lights the human frame, That spark of heav'n's own fire, expir'd: and there A pitiable darkness cover'd all. What ill, what punishment can man endure, So terrible to poor humanity, as is 145 The wrack of intellect ? oh ! it is bitter ; And bitterly it shews the weaknesses, The nothingness of man; it bids him look With less presumption to the Lord of all — To Him who gives — to Him who takes away ! Now Omar rush'd impetuously along, Back from the hall of death, in safety led By the sure guidance of the Prophet's arm ! No sound escap'd him ; but his wild eye shone With all the glare of madness. Having pass'd Unseen the confines of the Haram wall, He hurried on, fleet as the antelope Bounds o'er the flow'ry turf, when the loud cry Of her pursuers mingles with the breeze; So on, throughout the city's lonely paths, Unchalleng'd. Borne by some secret impulse, O'er the wide champaign rapidly he sped, And ere the morning ripen'd in the east, A lofty mountain rear'd its stately head, Stretching along his way. Wearied he fell Beside a rugged cave's dark aperture, 146 OMAR. And sleep, sweet comforter! in magic spelt Enwrapp'd his sbatter'd soul! " Father of mercies ! let thy servant bend " His knee in thankfulness, to Thee that gave — " That giv'st him life and being! Man in vain " Would be, if thy directing providence " Pointed not out the realm of future bliss, " And bade him win it ! Holy Alia, this, " And this alone, proves thy beneficence " To man, fall'n creature ! and for this is due " (A.nd ah! how little worthy of thy name!) " His warmest pray'rs and praises !" Thus, in the purest fervency of soul, The sage of Aubukabis pour'd to heav'n His morning orisons, and thankfully Bless'd Alia and his Prophet, who had shed The calm of Virtue o'er his blameless heart! Now, from his rocky habitation see The holy man step slowly forth, to hail The bright sun's rising majesty, and mark In the magnificent and peerless works OMAR. 147 That overspread creation, the all-wise, All-beauteous law of the Supreme Creator. Why starts he now ? and why, with uprais'd hands, And tremulous, so sadly sighs ? Ah! there Lies the wild haggard countenance of one He dearly lov'd — the sleeping, madden' d Omar. He wakes, he wakes — and oh ! how horrible To see the vacant roll of those large eyes That once shot lightnings o'er his manly frame, When war's shrill voice stirr'd up his soul to arms ! With sudden spring, Shouting, he rush'd precipitately past, And scal'd a massy rock, that beetling hung O'er the wide waste beneath : no transient pause Upon its verge, gave one short breath to horror ! A dreary howl, loud and long, and fiend-like, Fled from his bleeding body, as he leap'd Headlong adown the steep ; while his sad soul Left its dark tomb, to meet the just decree Of an offended and almighty Judge : The sage beheld the woeful scene o( death h 2 148 OMAR. With many a heart-felt pang, and pitying tears Wet, with their kindly dew, his furrow'd cheek. Much had he lov'd the youth ; and could grave counsel Have turn'd the fiery bent of passion's law, Omar had yet liv'd happy — yet belov'd ! But vain th' attempt to fertilize a soil Nature forbade to flourish ; vain th' attempt To ripen fruits 'mid winter's chilling sky ! MISCELLANEA, " Spissis indigna theatris jcripfca pudet recitarc, et nugis addere pondus." Hon. [ 151 ] FROM ANACREON. EI2 EPX2TA. Wretched indeed, is that man's fate, Whose heart obdurate cannot know What joys on love sincere await, Or taste the " luxury of woe 1" And he who feels love's poison'd dart Glide swiftly thro' his trembling frame, And feels it rankling at his heart, The term of " wretched," too may claim. But ah ! can words express the pains Of him who loves to love's excess, When not one single hope remains To blunt the keenness of distress ? [ 152 ] FROM THE GREEK She sang — and Philomel mute, With envy heard the rival strain, And then, as if to dare dispute, Began to trill her notes again ! Soon ceas'd the lay ; in deep despair, To find her own sweet sounds surpass'd, She sunk, exhausted, on my fair, And on her bosom breath'd her last ! October, 1816, [ 153 ] TO KATE. Nay, call me not fickle, altho', dearest Kate, My heart at this moment is ranging, For it flies to repose on thy bosom its fate, But there it remaineth unchanging ! Yet wilt thou receive it? Oh kindly comply ; It shall shield from thy heart ev'ry sorrow ; And the tear that to-day may have moisten'd thine eye. Shall be dried by its warmth ere to-morrow. October, 1816. h 5 [ 154 THE QUARREL. Talk on, fair maid, I'll calmly hear thee- I'll keep my temper in despite ; But if thou deemst that I shall fear thee, In sooth, thou art mistaken quite. The man who fancies by assuaging, To bend a woman to his will, Like oil pour'd on the ocean raging, Will only find — it rages still! No, no : besides, I like the roaring, I like to see huge waves arise ; Now down upon the sea-beach pouring, Thtu re-asct-nding, touch the skies: THE QUARREL. 155 I love to hear thee scolding, sweet ! too, To see those orbs of sparkling flame ; To view thee stamp thy little feet too — It proves thou'st eyes, and art not lame I What ! nay pry'thee do not cease, love, So grand, thy little angers are ; We will not sink so soon to peace, love, Indeed, we've hardly tasted war ; And, — sullen now ! well, that's a change too, Variety is pleasing still; Tho' thou'rt lovely, I can range too, Feel, perhaps a warmer thrill ! Ay, ope the window, strong winds blowing May drive that dark cloud from thy brow ; E'en as I thought, the smile is growing, And sunshine, will appear just now ! Not so, by heav'n 1 the clouds are breaking, And tears in copious show'rs descend ; Thy grief, my stubborn heart partaking, Herefeign'd indifference must end. 156 THE QUARREL. Why do you weep ? I love you dearly. There's not on earth, a heart so true That loves so fondly — so sincerely ; Or would more gladly bleed for you ! Dear Mira, no ; then but one kiss love, Sweet pledge of peace, ne'er tried in vain ! For thrilling hearts, know most of bliss, love. When anger, yields to love again, Nov. 1816. [ 157 J ANACREONTIQUE. Away with all sadness, Iii grief there is madness — Why should we hearken to sorrow and care I Fill, fill the thirsty bowl • Let ev'ry joyous soul, Pledge, till he drain ev'ry drop that be there. 'Twill add a new vigour, 'Twill soften the rigour ; The storms of adversity waken, alas ! As the clouds, dropping rain, Give a beauty again, To the fjow'rets all faded, and withering grass. 158 ANACREONTIQUE. Then shun ev'ry sorrow Think not of the morrow, Old Time's done sufficient to mellow our wine, — If the rogue dare appear. To admonish us here, We'll drown him, by Jove ! in the nectar divine. Jan. 1817. [ 159 ] HAPPINESS. " Nos procul expulsos, communia gaudia fallunt." Ovid. In search of happiness, man flies, Each scheme, and each expedient tries. All, all alas ! how vain ! And what, altho' he labour hard, Too often is the sole reward 1 Pain — agonizing pain. Thus children thro' a thorny brake, Rush with extended arms to take, The warbler's downy bed : The pointed thorns, the way oppose, They wound their flesh, they tear their clothes j But all they sought, — is fled ! May, 1817. [ 160 ALTERED FROM CATULLUS, She vow'd she lov'd me, dearly lov'd- And I believ'd her true, as fair ; But oh ! my broken heart has prov'd She wrote with water — on the air ! May, 1817. EPIGRAM. I love devotedly, where most I hate ; Ask ye the meaning of a thing so new? Alas ! I know not, — 'tis the curse of fate, To feel it torment, yet to love it too ! [ 161 ] TO CLARA * Give me a thousand kisses, sweet, The thousand kisses, oh ! repeat ; Repeat them, dearest, o'er and o'er ; Repeat them till thou hast no more ! Thus whilst thy lips of weight are eas'd, The heart of malice will be pleas'd, And envy too, will be content, When all thy gifts of love are spent. So each some profit finds in this— Then kiss my dear, begin to kiss, June, 1817. * " Da mi basia raille, deinde centum," &c. Catullus, Lib. I. Car. 5. [ 162 ] TO MIRA, Come, Mira ! let us seek the bow'r, Where roses bud, and woodbines twine, Enjoy at least, one happy hour, Nor thus at destiny repine. For ah ! it but augments our woe, And whilst time moves with tardy wing, 'Tis hope alone, can bid joy flow, And happiness 'mid sorrow spring. Then pr'ythee, be no longer sad ; Sing, sing that mournful song again, Which once had pow'r, would now it had To dull the keennest thought of pain! TO MIRA. 163 Nay, look not thus, for oh! 'tis hard To watch that sorrowing tearful eye, And yet denied the sweet reward, To soothe thy heartfelt misery. Yet sing, yet sing ; for who can tell When angels catch the heav'nly strain, Obedient to thy magic spell, E ? en happiness may come again ! October, 1817. [ 164 ] ON WOMEN. (FROM CHAUCER.) This world, alas 1 is full of guile. And all, as onward they proceed, Will often find the sunbright smile Is not a sunbright smile indeed ! Woman alone, alone can plead, Free from deceit, and form'd to bless, Yet somewhere, have I chanc'd to read, " Beware, beware of doubleness !" How fresh and gay, are summer flow'rs, The white and red, the blue and green ; But soon the blast of winter pours, Destroying what so fair hath beeD ! ON WOMEN. 165 Thus change in ev'ry thing is seen, But not in woman, all confess, And yet it is but right I ween, To warn you against doubleness. The pallid orb of night appears, Often array'd in silvery hue, And oft a face of darkness wears, Changing each rolling month anew ; And who duration ever knew ? What can the fickle pow'r repress ? But woman is— oh ! ever true, Yet still beware of doubleness ! The bright and lovely summer's day, The sun's effulgent cheering pow'r, As night approaches, die away, And leave the dark and silent hour; O'er all inconstancy doth tow'r, And learned men have said no less, But woman, truly all that know her;, Know her free from doubleness ! 166 ON WOMEN. The billow, that the high rock laves, And proudly threats, will soon again, Retreat, and mix its foamy waves With the calm'd waters of the main ; How fair the day, yet heavy rain Descends, and proves all fickleness* But who of woman, can complain. Devoid of change or doubleness ! Noveynber, 1817, L'ENVOI. Then since inconstancy hath been — must be, O'er all of mortal nature ; were not we Madmen, nay worse than mad, hoping to find Constant, the fickliest of a fickle kind 'I December, 1818. f 167 ] TO MARY. Love, in thine eyes delighted plays, And shines, as sparks on di'monds glow. And oft the wily urchin strays, Roving that bosom white as snow ! But, ah ! sweet girl, in time beware, Dost thou not know his roguish art ! The little plunderer hides him there, To steal thy unsuspecting heart ! June, 1817. L ,6S ] TO My dear and hallow'd name, How could my Muse so long forget, To kindle at the purest flame That ever burnt to heav'n yet ? Could feel affection's warmth inspire Nor joyful strike th' enraptur'd lyre! Forgive — and now perhaps the strain, Which votive thus, I wake for thee, May strengthen the too feeble chain That binds the throne of memory ; And bid me sing in sweeter song, As time shall sweep the chords along. 2 169 Perhaps too, when the bitter thrill Of misery hath pass'd away, And Peace shall come — (for come it will !) And thou shalt hail a happier day; Then thou wilt hark, no longer sad, To tales of thy all-rhyming lad. Wilt thou not ? yes ; for there's a pow'r On Poesy's enchanted ground, That sheds like some sweet scented flow'r, Its perfume over all around; And ah ! tho' some may scorn the gem, The Poet only pities them ! His soul, has many a rapturous minute, Which the cold bosom, cannot know, That feels no spark electric in it Of Poetry's inspiring glow. Then may he not well pity such, Insensible to softest touch I And what, tho' trifling be the lay : The bard's creation, rude and wild-— i 170 Companion of life's doubtful way. He loves it, as a favorite child ! Then think, oh ! only think how hard To blast the day-dreams of the bard. To blast them, said I ? that were vain, A foolish — an absurd endeavour, For wake him, and he'll sleep again As sound, ay more enwrapt than ever! Such happiness can only yield Fair Poesy's elysian field. And wonder not, I harp so long On such a strain — the dearest, best : For I must be the child of song Till sinks this beating heart to rest: Whate'er my fate, where'er I roam, Here, 1 shall find a peaceful home ! If pleasure's cup, before me glow, Which neither fears, nor sorrows dull— This talisman, will bid it flow E'en yet more bright, more beautiful! 171 As glittering gems, in water thrown, Give it a lustre, not its own. But if — ah ! sad reverse of fate ! Tempests shall rend the shatter*d sail, The lyre that bless'd my happy state, Shall soothe me, in the boist'rous gale ; And as I mournful touch the string, Hope, 'mid the dreary wreck will spring. Farewell! my — may st thou find, This day, and each succeeding one, Unruffled by the stormy wind, Bright'ning beneath the glowing sun ; And when — retard it heav'n ! thy day Shall sink, oh ! be't in peace away, January, 181S. [ 172 J TO JOHN ST. M , ESQ Fly, fly, my St. M from the cares of the sou), And pledge me to-night, in the eloquent bowl, Which sparkles as brightly, as if, my dear boy, The nectar we quafT'd, could partake of our joy ; As if it too, were anxious, one moment to spare From that hoary old vagabond, Dominie Care ! There are moments, believe it, whose sunshine of bliss May prove perhaps, even more transient than this ; When the blast of Misfortune, with terrible pow'r, Shall strike the fair bud as it opens to flow'r : As it feels the Avarm glow of the ripening sun, And we view it decay, when its beauty's begun '. Ay, here, when the rod of affliction shall smite, Farewell — oh farewell ! to the cup of delight :, TO JOHN' ST. M , ESQ. 173 ~So more shall it sparkle before us ; no more Can the dear voice of Friendship, its sweetnesses pour, Unfelt and unheeded, it passes away ; — As meteor beams, o'er the cold waters play, You behold their bright forms, in the stilly profound, But darkness and death, are enveloped around. Yet thou, my kind friend! oh never may'st thou The dark hand of Sorrow, more heavily know, Than that soft soothing pressure, whose touch will im- part A pain— but a pain, that yields balm to the heart! Yes ! still may the thrill of enjoyment be thine, And to witness thy happiness, ever be mine ; Be it mine, to exult as thy genius glows, And warm, as that laurel encircles thy brows, Which shall form a pure wreath, as unfading and dear To the Muse that inspires thy young bosom, as e'er Amid Immortality's temple, was furl'd, By the glad hand of Fame, to astonish the world ? June, 1818, [ 174 ] TO A FRIEND. Fear you the noise of scribbling folk ? They're harmless all the brood : Like the young raven's dismal croak 'Tis but demand for food ! Nor let it aught thy anger raise, If crowds admire their strain — The spark of genius, soon will blaze, And prove the slander vain. But scorn their praise, a foolish race Love fools ! and thou shalt find, The wreatli they twine, a last disgrace, To chain the manly mind ! June, 1818. [ 175 ] TO - 'Opy^ojjic/o; tw aJfXpw avroV, EIKH, hoyj>s serai TH KPISEI 1 '' St. Matthew, Chap. V. Ver. 22. " For he'd a way, that many judged polite — " A cunning dog — he'd fawn before he'd bite." Cfubbe. Yes, venom'd adders lurk unseen, And dart upon their trembling prey; But thou, dark monster! — thou hast been More veil'd, more venomous than they ! Causeless, yet terrible, the hate Which urged thee calmly to await A moment big with utter ruin, And load it with a friend's undoing! 176 Oh ! oft to his deluded eyes, Thy shallow soul was trick'd in lies ; And oft thy arts rais'd hope of joy, More deeply, direly, to destroy. As moon-struck wretches sometimes may Their sorrowing hoping friends deceive With semblance of returning ray, Whilst subtle lines of death they weave! Is it not sad, in life's young day, To view our dearest hopes decay? And manhood's harp, so newly strung, But vibrate each discordant tone ; Whose chords that should to bliss have rung, Make the cold heart more drear and lone! And oh '. the bitter heartfelt sight, Of cheeks that once could brightly smile. Turn chill away, their long-lov'd light — The victim of a villain's wile ! Yet Til not curse thee, wretch ! — no, no : Thy bosom needs no curse to know, 177 Than that awaken'd conscience brings — More poignant than the scorpion's ire; It bears along ten thousand stings, And burns in unconsuming fire ! June, 1818. i 5 [ 178 ] TO . (on being presented with " falconer's shipwreck.") Dear Lady, when I read the lay — This mournful lay — I'll think of thee : And pausing often, will I say, Does Fanny yet remember me ? And if the flatterer Hope reply, " Her feeling heart could not forget"' — Oh ! it will stay the bitter sigh Of many a sadd'ning fond regret ! 'Twill come, like spirit tongues, that breathe O'er youthful visions, music's strain — "V\ hilst Joy her fairy bands shall wreathe Around the gloomy couch of pain ! For trust me, tho' I've often sung The speaking eye, the pouting lip ; And often too, delighted hung O'er extacies too — fleet to sip. Never in dream, or dreaming song, (And oh ! this heart might well be calmer !) Have I believ'd, 'mid life's gay throng, A. heart — a kinder, or a warmer ! But yet— and thou'lt believe me, Fanny — 'Tis not thy loveliness — no, no ; Beauty may brighter beam from many. Tho' not, in sooth, to charm me so. It is, it is, the open heart, That link'd in friendship's dearest ties, Bids hallow'd rays of splendour start, That kindles in thy laughing eyes. It is that something, which t' impart, Words were in vain; and all I know, ? Tis a bright halo, round the heart, That lights, that lives but in its glow ! 179 180 to . And thou wilt give me Friendship's right- A right I'll proudly, fondly own; The thought, that tho' remov'd from sight, To memory but dearer grown ! Wilt thou not ? — yes, I know thou wilt 1 And haply if some future day, Thine eye glance o'er the tale of guilt, Or love, that marks my lowly lay. Oh ! let it whisper a kind thought Of him thou never more may'et see; And Time, whate'er he brings to nought, Shall never harm — one thought of thee.^ October, 1818 [ 181 ] TO Can my soul cease to love thee? Say not so, Friend of rav youth ! Altho' thy sallow cheek The hectic flushes, and the pulse of woe, Beats thro' thy care-worn frame, and bids thee seek The refuge of the grave. Ah me! how weak Is man ; the frost-work of a winter's morn, Which the first blast that rudely blows, shall break, And leave him stript of beauty and forlorn, For ev'ry passer-by to look upon and scorn ! Once o'er the rest thou wert pre-eminent, And they to thee as nothings: blended now, Almost with nothing thou art ! This th' event Of Fate's harsh edict — to which all must bow, But who. of all, hath sufler'd more than thou '. On! they be few, if any: never yet Did the young heart with fairer visions glow ; And never did the sun of glory set, In darker, bitterer hour, or night more sternly threat. 182 to ■ . And now thou dost inhale the vital air, A mockery of man ! Ay, we may smile 'Mid storm and sunshine — happiness and care, The sweet vicissitude will reconcile : But thine is all dark cloud — no hopes beguile Thy long long day ; and tho' the stern arrest Of Death claim sole dominion — he, the while, Laughs at thy misery, and denies the rest, Which shuts the languid eye, and stills the throbbing breast ! November, 1818, [ 183 1 SONNET TO TIME. Time! what a peevish wayward thing art thou — Now in the rainbow's vivid colours drest, Soothing to sweetest peace, the care-worn breast, And driving clouds from Sorrow's wrinkled brow : And now with chilling aspect of despair, Destroying the bright buds that flourish' d there, In all Spring's freshest beauty. Woe is me ! Oft have I seen thine eyes vindictive flash Consuming Hope's young day, and felt the lash, The scorpion lash of bitterest misery ! Yet have I known thee too, in fairer hours, When joy danc'd gaily down the path of life — When heav'nly dreams, in Pleasure's fairy bow'rs, Were more to me than heav'n! but oh! thine ills were rife! August, 1818. [ 184 ] TO LAURA. Yes! I must love, tlio' frowning Fate, Darken the ray that brightly shone ; Tlio' Youth's gay dreams be desolate, And blisses pass untasted on ! Tho' all that warm'd my raptur'd heart, When first it beat for love and thee — Should like the lightning flash depart, And leave but vengeful flame for me. Still must 1 love — well, fondly love — And let the censuring world condemn ; 'Twill glad my care-worn heart to prove, I lov'd thee more, in hating them ! [ 185 ] REMEMBER ME ! TO H TTE. Remember me, when fleets the hour Of bliss, and pleasure's passing flow'r No more delights thy weaned eye ; When from thy bosom bursts the sigh, And tears adown thy pallid cheek, The agony of fate bespeak • When friendship's feigned caresses flee,- Then, lady, then remember me. For I would soothe the hour of ill, And tell thee, there were moments still, That after all of misery past, Should wear the face of joy at last : 186 REMEMBER ME. And I would bid thee hope • and while Thy cheek put on the timid smile, I too could joy — for sweet will be The thought that then remembers me. Yet tho' the smile, thy smiles impart, Should never reach the sorrowing heart, (As sunshine on the tomb may rest, Tho' cold beneath the mould'ring breast!) Still thou shouldst hold dominion here, To this fond heart for erer dear ; And little all the world would be, If thou, in sooth, remembe r est me. Remember me ! oh ! wilt thou not ? And must I live, and be forgot ? Must I endure e'en this, and yet Unable, if I would forget ? No — tho' that heart, the hallow'd shrine Where burns this glowing heart of mine, Reject its incense — there will be Sometimes a eentle thought of me. REMEMBER ME. 187 Dear lady, do I err ? — the rill That wanders onward, freely still Refreshes with its silver spray, Each flow'ret ere it wends away, And tho' it pause not, yet will give The gentle show'r that bids it live ! And lady, thus that thought will be, The thought that once remembers me. February, 1819, 188 1 TO FANNY Where are now the glad moments of exquisite pleasure That gilded life's path with a heav'nly hue? Oh ! long ago faded — but yet the lost treasure Can memory's dream of delusion renew. Resplendently there the dear flow'rets she nourish'd, Once more re-illum'd, their wild beauties display: And again the heart feels as at first, when it flourish'd. Ere it bitterly drank of the cup of decay ! Yet, Fanny, those moments, so dear to this bosom, So lov'd — I ne'er welcome, ne'er wish their return ; Tho' sweet while they last, 'tis such anguish to lose 'em, Hope weeps a farewell from the desolate urn ! Thou pitiest me, Fanny? If aught could awaken A beam of delight o"er a heart chill as mine, It would be the proud thought, that my grief was partaken By a heart so beiov'd, and so thrilling as thine. [ 189 J SONG. Away, far away from the false one ; believe me, Death lurks in the wave he will press thee to sip; He will swear that he loves, and while swearing, deceive thee, And poison the goblet he holds to thy lip I Thou hast seen the bright beams of the day-star at morning, Thou hast seen all their brilliancy darken'd at noon; And thus shall thy happiness die 'mid the scorning Of him. who so prais'd thy harp's virginal tune ! And then all abandon'd — life's hopes dull and darkling — Like the lorn tear, that drops from that lustre-dimm'd eye, One moment, the sun in its ray saw it sparkling, The next, and amid the cold earth it shall lie ! By heav'n ! 'tis madding to think, that with feeling, With the warm heart of woman, man ever should play * From the temple of peace thus insidiously stealing The gem of the soul from the shrine where it lay, June, 1818. L 190 ] TO H TE. I've seen, with scarce a wish, a sigh, The brightest beams of loveliness ; I've gaz'd upon a dark blue eye, Nor teit its magic pow'r to bless ! But then I sn\v no soul as bright, Shine thro' that radiant world of charm And 'tis not brilliant specks of light, 'Mid the cold atmosphere, that warm. Ah no ! the fluttering vacant throng, That pass o'er life's delusive way, May ciaim, perhaps, an idle song, But cannot light Love's ardent ray. The blush of gentleness — the thrill Of feeiing — oh! their pow'r is such, The heart indignant spurns the will, And melts before a single touch. TO H TE. 191 Then blame not, lady ! if I dare To love where all I love's combin'd ; Too soon I saw that thou wert fair ; Too soon — thou hadst a fairer mind ! Hopeless, perhaps, I feel the sting; Hopeless, perhaps, I'm doom'd to pine; Yet I will love the loveliest thing, Tho' Heav'n deny that blessing mine ! AuEUbt, 1818. [ 192 SONNET. WRITTEN BY MOONLIGHT, AMONG THE RUINS OF KIRKSTAI.L ABBEY, YORKSHIRE. Amid the mould'ring monuments of Eld, With reverential awe inspir'd, I stand. Oh ! for the stroke of an enchanter's wand, T' embody all that Fancy hath impell'd Upon the straining thought! Youth— age may dream Touch'd, like the ruin, with the moon's pale beam : But youth alone feels all the charms that glow, With more than real bliss, when calling back Things that have been, in the bewildering track Of ages far gone by ! Oh! ye who know The world's vain joy — unreal too as this — Say, can ye deem a happiness more pure Thrills thro' the human heart, when from th' abyss Of misery ye turn — forgetting to endure ? August, 1818. [ 193 ] TO Yes, there are moments, when the heart All that it lov'd, can love no more. Yet feel again th' envenom'd smart — A ray of what it felt before ! And like that transient soften'd flame The day-star at his parting throws, Bright, with a minute's flush, it came, Then sunk — ah ! fleetly as it rose. But could the sun with warming beam, Glow thro' the world, yet leave it chill ? No, tho' this bosom's fev'rish dream Is past, yet I will love thee still. 194 Love thee, with all a brother's love— ■ And if it be my fated lot, O'er the dark waste of life to rove, By few regarded — or forgot, For thee (tho' sear'd and blighted fall, The hopes that light the youthful breast) ; For thee, again, I'll woo them all, To bless thee— and thou shalt be bless'd ! March, EPIGRAMS*. -• T love thee, Curio," longing Delia cries, As full on me, she turn'd her goggling eyes ; Spare me — oh! spare me — by the pow'rs above, Thy love were hate — thy hate, to me were love! * The following are extracted from an unpublished MS. en- titled, " Sketches from Nature," and which may one day meet the eye of "a candid and enlightened public," K 2 196 EPIGRAMS. LITTLE ELEGANCIES. Hear'st thou yon madam '! how her tongue doth roll ; On " little elegancies," bless her soul ! From day to day, her song is still the same, Still trembles there, the consecrated name ; O'er all she does — o'er all she means to do, This phrase, the clust'ring verba ge, twinkles thro'; Yet spite of all the pains she takes to show it, Not one alas ! not one in twenty know it! What then the reason? not in her it lies, She's all she says: why 'tis the world wants eyes ! THE TRAVELLER. Mark that gay sailor : — heavens ! how he talks, As like a land leviathan, he stalks ; While little people, such as you, or I, His knowledge know not, nor his height can spy. How indeed should we ? None of us have been Where he has wander'd — seen, what he has seen : That often people, who admire his skill, Applauding tell us — " he is wantTring still I" EPIGRAMS. 197 THE GENEROUS FRIEND. " Doubt not my faith! whatever some pretend, " I will stick to you, to the last, my r riend;" So Quitam said: writs, bailiffs, soon undo him — Yet Quitam's true, he — to the last stuck to him ! C boasts his great acquaintance, proudly dwells, On what this lord, or what that lordling tells ! Think ye 'tis true ? The question we will wave — A peer may be acquainted with a knave ! TO WOMAN. They say I do not love thee ! but I do, And as I love thee — I would chasten too : For well I know, Perfection's not a dream, And Women might be — ev'ry thing they seem ! 198 BP1GRAMS. THE TIPSY FAIR. " Dear Dr. Slyboots," cries a would-be saint, " Support me, oh ! support me, or I faint;" " Miss," says the doctor, "have you had a call?" " Oh! often, doctor, catch me, or I fall!" Her maid displays young madam's saintly case, But were she silent, view that radiant face ! Law's like a two edg'd sword — it cannot miss, And now it cuts on that side, now on this : To rush in law, wise men are ever loth, For, (cut on one side) then you're cut on both ! EXTEMPORE EPITAPH MISS . Here lieth one, who'd all the world could give, And yet she died — because she could not live I EPIGRAMS. 199 EPITAPH ON A LADY OF NOTORIETY, BURIED NEAR THE PLACE SHE INHABITED. Here lieth one, they say, she liv'd and died, And lieth here — 'where she thro' life hath lied! TO Yes, you are listen'd to, but not believ'd, For if we trusted, we should be deceiv'd ; Yet, if you say your meaning's to deceive, 'Tis more than probable, we shall believe ! ADVICE TO Laugh, laugh — nor heed what other fools may do, Laugh you at them, they can but laugh at you ! 200 EPIGRAMS. Let Philip call his friends — this lord and t'other — Lords oft are fools, and fools regard their brother ! Seest thou yon red plump cheek and chuckling air, And think'st aught excellent can harbour there ? Pious, yet most irreverent ; with care Sparing, when very madness 'twas to spare ; Without one generous feeling, tho' he gave, He lives— a compound both of fool and knave ! " Jack, Jack/jou drink ; give o'er — 'tis your undoing! " Drink, rat me, drink ? you lie — I'm only going .'" Ned hates a niggard — yet the cautious elf Has too much wit to quarrel with himself! FINIS. BARNARD AND VARIIT, Skinner-Street, tondent- UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. ?orm L9-50m-7, '54 (5990)444 V . ■'