' / * POEMS. RO S S ALE: A TALE. CEILIA AND NORA, OR THE WARNING; AND OTHER PIECES IN RHYME. EMILIA MUNRO. ABERDEEN: GEORGE & ROBERT KING, 28, ST. NICHOLAS STREET; SUTHERLAND AND K N X, EDINBURGH; AND HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO., LONDON. MD CCCLI. PREFACE. THE preface, or introductory matter of a book, is a portion of its contents so seldom perused, that its omission might fre- quently remain undiscovered by the readers of the volume to which it may have been attached. That nevertheless it is con- sidered a requisite is shown by its almost universal adop- tion ; and as it always appears safe, if not laudable, to follow such customs as time and use have hallowed, where no ill consequence can accrue from so doing, it seems well that this little work should have the usual accompaniment, that in this particular it may not deviate from its prede- cessors. In those books to which recourse has been had, in order to discover, if possible, in what a good preface ought to consist, there has generally been found much of similarity in the strain in which they are written, and much of uniformity in the topics to which they refer ; more especially amongst 2030186 those writers who, for the first time, prefer their claim to a share of public favour. The writers appear, in almost every instance, to have laboured under a diffidence, which it required the greatest exertions on the part of their friends to surmount a diffi- dence which, but for this timely intervention, must have proved an insuperable barrier in the path to fame. In every instance they appear to have had innume- rable difficulties with which to contend, of which there is generally given a statement in full, not unfrequently accom- panied by an assumed depreciation of the work in question, with an affecting appeal to the public to kindly overlook its deficiencies, in consideration of the many untoward circum- stances under which it was written. Though not under the necessity of a servile imitation of these models, it may be not inexpedient to follow the pre- scribed order, in the mention of the few particulars which may be supposed to prove not uninteresting to that limited number who have acquired the habit of looking into the preliminary pages of such books as they intend to peruse. Of the one sex, many of those who come before the public, if they have not received a University education, PREFACE. Vll are apt to plead the deficiency as an apology for such defects as may be discoverable in their productions. But were such an excuse admissible at the bar of cri- ticism, it should not now be preferred. For though the advantages which may be derived from attendance at an University are great, and that which those so trained are supposed peculiarly to possess an acquaintance with the classics, and the languages in which they were originally written, can scarcely be too highly esteemed ; at least, where there is taste to appreciate, or talent to profit by the examples of those excellencies in which they abound. Yet the want of such advantages can scarcely be deemed a de- sideratum of so very great magnitude, in an age where translations of the writings of all the more celebrated authors of antiquity are to be met with in abundance, at least, in the present instance were it so that it might, the deficiency should not be offered as a ground of exemp- tion from censure. Since in Britain, where books are so numerous, and facilities of acquiring information so great, he, who having ability to read, and a reasonable amount of time at his disposal, should, after having arrived at years of discretion, complain of a defective education, must be in a condition to be pitied for his incapacity, or blamed for his negligence. As to the difficulties of the undertaking, the second point generally urged as a ground of extenuation, it cannot, in the present instance, be alleged with truth that there were any which in strict language could be regarded as such since what is now presented to the public was chiefly written because it was found pleasant to write, and thus preserve for some future period the power of deriving pleasure from the contemplation of thoughts .and fancies which had once pleased, but which otherwise must have perished with the occasions from which they sprung. When these had ac- cumulated, and it was suggested that by diffusion they might also give pleasure to others ; acquiescence was given to the suggestion, as it was at least within the bounds of probabi- lity they might. That there might not have been other and more powerful motives urged, as an inducement to publica- tion, is not concealed : these it were needless to mention, since they were such as concern not the public to know. As to the merit of these pieces, it were superfluous here to express an opinion ; since to extol, were to excite ridicule ; to depreciate, must have the appearance of affectation. It is sufficient to state that they make no pretensions to be con- sidered as poems they are mere tales in rhyme, with the addition of a few poetical embellishments : should these not be discovered, it is hoped the moral may be more obvious. If they lay claim to any distinction, it is that neither in design nor execution is there a consciousness of having borrowed from the performances of others. Not but what, in a miscellaneous course of reading from earliest child- hood, it were difficult to believe that a large portion had not clung to the mind with such tenacity, as in after years to be mistaken for its own spontaneous productions. Should the reader then meet with words or phrases which may have been already appropriated, or coincidences in thought with that of other writers, let not such be attributed to a wilful plagiarism, but rather to the unconscious resuscitation of ideas derived from various but forgotten sources. The tales do not profess to be based on facts : the charac- ters, in almost every instance, are fictitious the scenes wholly imaginary. In Rossale, an attempt has been made to show the danger of allowing any one idea to become paramount in the mind. The hero has suffered injury, and repelled sympathy with a dogged determination, to appear to the world superior to the shafts of fortune and the frowns of fate. While in reality overwhelmed by a sense of his misfor- tunes, his whole employment is to brood over his wrongs and the means of avenging them, until, by incessant contem- plation, they appear to his excited imagination enlarged beyond the possibility of endurance, and life a scene of miseries from which no respite offers but the grave, in which he would at once take refuge, were he not withheld by what of religious principles yet remain. But, recurring again and again to his enfeebled powers, the thought of self-destruction becomes at length the idea most familiar to his mind, to which with every varying mood he is alter- nately goaded or restrained, until, on this particular point, reason wholly unhinged, his disordered fancy make appear palpable to sight those horrors which have no other exist- ence than that supplied by a disordered imagination and distempered brain. Dire apparitions thus seem to beset his path, whose aim appears to be to drive him to inevitable de- struction, by an exaggeration of the ills of life, and a re- presentation of that calm which the grave alone can yield. Yet Rossale is a mere monomaniac capable of reasoning, and hearing reason on every subject, but that in which his lunacy is made to consist. By the importance which he attaches to the enunciation of those holy words, by which he fancies, were he sincere, the instigations of evil spirits might even be repelled, it is intended to show the force of early impressions, and the necessity that these should be of the right kind ; as the sentiments imbibed in childhood are so difficult to eradicate, that they may be said to become interwoven with the frame, and a part of the future man. In regard to the second piece, it may be expedient to state that it is less indebted to fancy than any of the others. The characters of the perfidious and the deceived are too general, and instances of duplicity and credulity too common in the world to induce the necessity of having recourse wholly to imagination in the delineation, though it is to be hoped that, in this instance, the deceiver is baser than even the generality of that despicable class to which he belongs ; yet those cannot be esteemed less pernicious to society, not less the foes of individual happiness, that they possess a degree of generosity, and as it were nobility in crime, in which this was deficient. One critic, to whom this particular piece was submitted, objected that the language was less dignified than that of poetry required. But where the narrative is conveyed in the form of an interlocution, and where two simple maidens are the speakers, to have made these affect a lofty mode of ex- pression were out of keeping with the aim and design of the piece, which is no more than to convey a story, with a moral interwoven in its structure, in such familiar terms as might be supposed common to those by whom the relation is made. In an epic poem, the language is expected to be measured and lofty, and as grand as the ideas it is used to express ; but to make plain people walk on stilts were not less ridiculous than to close a simple tale in the same magnificent garb. As to the other pieces in the volume, they do not seem to require a particular observation. Where not instructive, they, it is hoped, are at least harmless, and may, if they do no more at least, afford amusement for a vacant hour. As the prototypes of this essay generally conclude with an appeal to the Public in behalf of their publications, the closest imitation, could it avail, were desirable in this particular. But of that illustrious body, it has been com- PREFACE. Xiii monly observed, that the source whence advantage and entertainment may be derived, it shall patronize in spite of a thousand defects ; while, where these are denied, a thousand perfections shall fail of moving a single limb in its favour. As to those tremendous members, the Critics, were it possible to extract the gall from their ink, and substitute a milder fluid, or to replace by a more harmless instru- ment that with which they are wont to do so much execution, the most strenuous efforts should be made for so important a purpose ; but as these, in all probability, were as vain as those endeavours must be, whose object were to propitiate a power which sometimes seems as rather rigorously exerted, or to conciliate a favour which not less frequently appears capriciously bestowed, a hope can only be expressed that, in the present case, no unnecessary severity will be used in the criticism of a work of so little pretension, and which contains nothing intended to offend. CONTENTS. --;__-- -_ .__- --, .----^----j .----j-- JJ -- J ---r- J .-rr-----^--r J --.-^- J ^ JJ ^f,___-, 1 2 Ceilia and Nora, . ~ _ . ~~~.~ 167 3 The Heir of Misery, 203 4 Sappho, 217 5 The Wanderer's Return, 225 6 The Martyred Bride 249 7 To the Insects of the Solar Beam, 265 8 An After Thought, -~~ ~~ __ 267 9 Charity: An Allegory, 269 10 An Address to the Rose, 270 11 The Fate of the Obscure, 273 12 Philanthropy, 276 13 An Address to that Spirit of Philanthropy which has suc- cessfully induced the Instruction of the Deaf and Dumb,, _ ..---SJ------J..-.-.-J -..-j-.-j-.-'r.,.-.-.-.-., 279 14 The First Advent of Victoria in Aberdeen, 1848, 281 15 The Warning, ; 283 16 To the Admirers of a Short-sighted Policy, 285 17 Night Thoughts,. 18 The Rich and Poor,, 19 Thoughts suggested by a Thunder-storm, 291 20 The Ills of the Fastidious, 296 PAGK. 21 To the Sons of Toil, ~~~ v~-~~^-~ - ,. 298 22 Vicissitude, ,~-~~~,~~ ~.,v , _ 301 23 The Perils of the Deep, 303 24 FaiH6 JUJ.Ju^iAW J L/JJJjr J r t ,,x J Ajr.^r Jf rwrrrr. 1 n, J ^^ 310 25 A Glimpse of Human Misery, 312 26 Inordinate Love of Life, 320 27 Job, Chap. 4, 326 28 Notes, JJJJJJJJW.J-.JJJJJJ-JJJJ-J 331 R S S A L E. R S S A L E. OLD MAN " Why on that old and time-worn stone, Say, stranger, art thou seated lone, Exposed to the inclement air Why sitting solitary there ? " STRANGER" And why thus questioned should I be ? This aged stone is it not free To all may choose to rest thereon ? Or is it thine, this mossy stone, And thus legitimate thy claim, Of all here found ask whence they came, The how, the wherefore, and the why, As they were forc'd to all reply ? " Learn, friend, there are, who choose not so Their action's motives, all should know, Nor reasons various may have led Their feet this wilderness to tread ; Nor why, when tir'd, they chose to rest, Upon the grey rock's aged breast. " But, if ye motives must surmise, Command, and these in host shall rise : For instance, couldst thou not suppose This solitary spot I chose For meditation, sad and lone, Congenial so, this aged stone ? " Or, had I for the right conspir'd, From motives such as Brutus fir'd As he, been foil'd, could I have chose More fitting place to end my woes? " Or softer couldst thou not assign Though better suits the place than time, With love, or friend, some choose to meet, 'Neath spreading tree or mossy seat ; What, if by choice, this stone should be, My rendezvous, instead of tree?" OLD MAN " No trysting-place is this, I ween, Amidst this waste and desert scene, Nor village, hamlet, cot, is found, Except my own, for miles around." STRANGER " It so may be, and yet not strange, Erratic steps should hither range, Since I no barrier descried Nor ought an entrance might denied." OLD MAN " To keep, wert wish'd, intruders hence, Nor barrier needs there here, nor fence Sufficient in itself the moor, So uninviting, sterile, poor. Far from the highway's beaten road, Its meagre soil is seldom trode, 't And rarely does my aged eye Alight on casual passers by E'en when glad summer's glowing beam Sheds o'er the whole a transient gleam Of brilliancy, to veil the bare And desolate, hide 'neath the fair ; And nature in her robes array 'd, Gives verdure through refusing shade, And something lends akin to grace To stunted herbs of Floral race, That even here have deign'd to bloom, Though faint and powerless their perfume. " Far less when winter rules the year, And glooms, as now, with brow severe, While speeding on his mission wild, To wither all before had smil'd. He o'er the wilderness presides And ruin's ploughshare onward guides The brief-lent verdure tramples down, Scares beauty with terrific frown ; While all the graces crown'd the year, Swift from his presence disappear, Aw'd nature shrinks beheld his scowl, While winds attending round him howl. Then wretched sure must be his plight That here should pass the hours of night, All solitary, sad, and lone His resting-place the old grey stone. " See, though the moon is full and high, How chill and bleak the wintry sky, As flint so hard the frozen ground ; Seems solitude to brood around, By silence shar'd supremely reigning, And still majesty maintaining O'er all, save the unruly blast, That howling drives in eddies past." STRANGER " The scene thou must have close survey 'd Ere accurately thus portrayed ; But since so desolate and drear, Say, aged friend, what brought thee here?" OLD MAM " Disturb'd and restless my repose, I from my couch at length arose ; And back my casement curtains drawn, Look'd forth to see if yet 'twas dawn ; And thus beheld the well-known stone, On which the moon then dimly shone, It seem'd as sight my sense belied, When human form I there descried ; My cloak around my shoulders flung, Swift as my age permits I sprung, And hither haste to bid the come And make my cot this night thy home. " Come ! then, and share my little all, I only grieve that portion small ; But what posess'd, come freely share, My lowly roof, my simple fare. " But sure thy limbs must stiffen'd be, Yet, come, repose thy weight on me ; Though old, I'm hale compared with thee. Haste, then, I welcome give once more, And free partake my homely store All 'neath my roof of comfort, cheer I offer from a heart sincere. What hither led, I've, stranger, told, 6 Then of thy story part unfold ; Or, deign at least to tell me why Thy canopy the cold drear sky Thou here should'st choose thy place of rest, Upon the grey stone's aged breast." STRANGER " Exhausted, weary, and forlorn, I here await the coming morn. As respite from night's horrors, I Look longing to the eastern sky, And welcome would the dawning light Tho' nought it brings can glad my sight. Wert not for those, as night's shades close, Then throng around to mock my woes. They better with my mind accord Tho' quietude nor these afford The long and darkling hours of night, Than day's clear skies and sunshine bright. " But wonder none else I'm here, There was no let, the way was clear, And all unoccupied the stone, With lichens grey, time's plants, o'ergrowu ; And though the skies were cold and bleak, What matters it? they did not speak : I might for them have passed the night More tranquil than 'mid seas of light. But know, I sat not here alone, Upon this old and timeworn stone, For amply peopl'd all the space, While troops of spectres throng the place. As slowly sped the hours of night They flit before my aching sight My eyeballs strain'd perforce must gaze, And view them thread in devious maze. " Sometimes so near their icy breath, I feel the very chill of death, O'er me slow but surely stealing, Numbing every sense and feeling, And life's current e'en congealing. " Their bony arms I know caress, Yet, strange, I cannot feel them press : I cannot feel, but well I see That pressure which I may not flee ; Smile not at thought of pressure seen, Their circling arms beheld, I ween, I know, though powerless to oppose, They me in hideous round enclose, Then something seems my breast to thrill, And rouud ine creeps a deathlike chill As there a girdle pla'd of cold, Or might arise should snakes infold Their slimy length close intertwined, And with the zone my waist should bind. " Their arms unlac'd, they glide away, As morning mists before the day ; But never are they absent long, Too soon returns the ghastly throng, Increas'd in numbers and in force, But with no pity or remorse For my sufferings or my pangs, But, grinning, they display their fangs, Threatening still my flesh to tear, But from the act they yet forbear, As 'though malignant, yet their spite Were bounded by superior might. " And still they choose, when 'neath a cloud The moon her silvery face may shroud, To gnash their fleshless jaws at me, And eyelets turn, where sight should be, And point what finger seems in scorn, At me, the wretched and forlorn, Who, chas'd and goaded by despair, 9 By anguish wrung, oppress'd with care, And bent beneath a load of woes, To bear such burden abject chose : Still brooding o'er my adverse fate, As sorrow's self so desolate, When one sure blow, one trivial stroke, My tie to life at once had broke. " And while they speak, the night-owl's shriek Discordant sounds from every beak ; The night-owl's ahriek and raven's croak, Re-echoing all have phantoms spoke. " While some with pantomine make known, The rest Death's victims claim their own, Who softly in the grave recline, No longer doomed 'mid ills to pine ; They shed no tear, they know no fear, Nor ought that racks the bosom here Beneath the ground they sleep profound, Nor hear the thunder's loudest sound ; For ever safe from war's alarms, The stirring cry, ' to arms ! ' ' to arms ! ' Unheeded falls on empty air, It cannot pierce or reach them there. 10 " The lightning's flash, the torrent's dash May meet in elemental strife, And tempests nurst in fury burst, With these conspire to injure life May bow the flower, its beauty's dower, Perhaps may mar or quite destroy, But they, I ween, 'neath daisi'd screen, Such trifles harm not nor annoy. Escap'd the world, its conflicts o'er, Its rude assaults are felt no more, And all within is hush'd to rest, Each passion, feeling of the breast, As cradl'd infants hush'd to sleep, So soft ther slumber and so deep. A lullaby singing, Then over the dead, They warn the survivors More softly to tread. O'er him on life's billow, His bark all but lost, His head on earth's pillow, No more is rude tost. 1 1 He sleeps ! he reposes ! 'Though the moist soil around, As resting on roses, His slumbers profound. A lullaby singing Thus over the dead, They warn the survivors More softly to tread. The winds sighing nightly Above his lone grave ; They bid them move lightly, The long grasses wave. The dews, too, fall kindly, To freshen the green ; The fierce sun more mildly Upon it to beam. A lullaby singing Thus over the dead, They warn the survivors More softly to tread. Lullaby, lullaby ; Peace to the dead ! " This song of peace they scarce let cease, E'er from the gloom advancing fierce, Come those dread forms ; I'd seen there rise, So horrid in their shape and guise. Description were of these as vain As Limner's art to trace a pain. You feel the agony, the smart, But to pourtray, transcends all art ; Offspring of horror and dismay, So dire in aspect and array. " The first, with chill and icy breath, A strong resemblance bear to death ; As might his progeny appear, With aspect pallid, chill, and drear ; But these have nought partains the tomb, Are rather fiends escap'd their doom, In regions of eternal woe, If ye may guess by what they show, And how ingeniously they know How to freshen every grief, Admits not remedy relief; How swift the dismal to recall, Wrongs, disappointments, sorrows all, And then the whole, in dire array, In tableau to the view display ; Where deep engrav'd seen every trace Of shame, dishonour, and disgrace. 13 i( Then press these demons close around, And wide re-ope my every wound. Rebarb the arrow, point the sting ; Again my heart with anguish wring; And as I, shuddering, writhe in pain, Derisive mock distortions vain. Hollowly laughing all the while, These demons torture yet and smile. It seems my startl'd balls to dim, Those smiles so horrible and grim. " Next to my view these fiends display Fetters invisible by day, That link'd in chains my footsteps bound,- I powerless to escape beyond, Thus they no scope to freedom leave, And e'en of hope my sight bereave ; But, ah ! the worst remains ; they show How far is spread my tale of woe, Peals on my ear the trumpet sound, Proclaims it loud to all around. The very words I seem to hear Of human race. See ! crowds appear ; And I of each the jest and jeer. A theme for gossips, conn'd by rote, How fondly I was known to dote, 14 How much I trusted and believ'd, How foul, how grossly, I deceiv'd ; While those who pitv, those who blame, Alike conspire to spread my shame. " Nor this enough ; extinguish quite All hope of joy in life or light : They point life's comforts, how unsound, What firm appears as baseless found And what the brightest seems to glow, As fairy structures, empty show. " We think to clasp, in sunshine bask, But find that all illudes our grasp ; They tempt the eye, but touch deny, And from us as our shadows fly. " Bent low the shoot, with fairest fruit We see : we hasten, strain pursuit ; But for our toil, and vain turmoil, Receive the poison of the asp Which even there, 'mid foliage fair, Insidiously has wound his coil : For hopes ideal, a wound too real Is ours, 'stead of Popona's spoil. " And while they speak, the night owl's shriek, Discordant sounds from even* beak ; The night owl's shriek, and raven's croak, Re-echoing all, have phantoms spoke. " They point the gloom o'erhangs the world Since virtue from her throne was hurl'd ; And falsehood, crown'd the only queen, Rules with deceptive arts the scene. " Thence love, fidelity, withdrawn, A twilight reigns, admits no dawn, Where thickening haze obscures the gaze Of those would scan her devious ways : Paths right and left entangled so, That which is which we scarcely know. In labyrinthine maze perplex'd, We jad'd turn, and worn, and vext, Can only learn before us lies Yet denser gloom and darker skies. " Where wretches weep ; in sorrows reap Those evils which before they'd sown - And groan and sigh, yet will not die, Although their every hope has flown. " CompelTd in battle to engage, And with life's ills stern warfare wage ; They will not from the strife retire, But tortur'd rather, slow expire. " A number, small indeed, we see, That still victorious seem to be ; But not less true that these are few, Prosperity's select'd crew. " But different far the world's huge throng They ills endure past hope or cure ; The weak contending with the strong ; Yet these o'erpower'd, disown it so, Though youth has fled and strengh is low, They still would urge the nerveless blow. E'en conquer'd they refuse to yield, But stupid on their victors gaze ; Though vanquish'd will not quit the field. As, sunk in stupour and amaze, They knew not they could wield no more Those weapons formerly they bore. They hug distress, they sorrow press, Regardless of the sneering throng, They plain of life, its ceaseless strife, But still existence drag along ; They fear the bowl and dread the knife, And ills would rather dwell among To wail and weep, in sorrow reap Those evils they before had sown 17 To groan and sigh, yet fear to die, Although their every hope has flown. " For thee, of every good bereft, Despair, the grave, alone is left !" This pealing in my ear, they ring The chorus still of all they sing. " And while they speak, the night-owl's shriek Discordant sounds from every beak ; The night-owl's shriek, and raven's croak, Re-echoing all have phantoms spoke. " Companion'd thus, say was I lone, While seated on the old grey stone." SECTION SECOND. OLD MAN " Poor youth, for not so dim'd my eye But thy young years I yet descry ; And should I venture to surmise, Though thus forlorn and sad thy guise, I'd say, thou had'st been train'd and taught To clothe in language choice thy thought ; 18 And by thy bearing, though depress'd, Thou wert not wont the night air's guest, To wander forth, unheeding where, And solitary nurse despair. " But for the spectres, they are nought, Or but the borrow'd forms of thought. " When weariness, exhaustion, pain, Have left a vacuum in the brain, Oft then it seems as phantoms rose, Molest and trouble our repose, And when with other foes they're join'd, Add the distraction of the mind. Though but creations of disease, They yet have power to vex and tease, And, phantoms as thev are, have still To them permissive lent the skill, Of that o'er which we brood, to take A form, and abstract clothe in shape ; Embodied thus, before our eyes They start, in legion seem to rise, Displaying in their proper hue, Thoughts not less dire, conceal'd from view. " Distemper's children, like their sire, Hideous in aspect and attire : From him they sprung, but in thy brain Have found the nurture to sustain, 1!) And foster'd there, they thus have grown, 'Till seems their origin unknown. " Matur'd at length, now form they take, And dog thee powerless to escape, Thy steps to circumscribe appear, Thy tim'rous spirit seem to jeer, Disturb thy rest, thy quiet annoy, And even would thy soul destroy ; By urging to forestall thy doom, Seek for asylum in the tomb, And coward-like from battle run, Before the conflict well begun ; And thus, for trouble soon must cease, Forego thy hopes of lasting peace. " Pass'd manhood's portals scarce hast thou, Why yet should sorrow cloud thy brow ? What early can thy hopes have crost, Thou yet shouldst deem thy all as lost ? " Whate'er the cause of thy distress, The ills most dire admit redress : Or, if equivalent is sought, That on Time's wings is surely brought : E'en for those cares harassing most, Unfailing opiate he can boast, A slow but not less sure relief For sharpest poignancy of grief. 20 " Victim as thou may 'at be of fate, A sufferer from vindictive hate, A prey to all can rack or wring, Alleviation he shall bring. Unless his succour ye refuse, And rather than his aid, should choose, Indulgent to thy froward mood, Unceasing o'er thy ills to brood, And thus to deepen thy despair, By cherishing the seeds of care Pernicious seeds, that soon shall spring, And downward bend again to sting." STRANGER " And were it sorrows did oppress, Dost think by words these woes to chase ? This little descant might thee tell, Grief not so lightly bids farewell : " For fix'd establish'd grief, No season brings relief In winter's dreary hour, In summer's verdant bow'r, She can of cypress find, Her gloomy brows to bind, In sunny May a shade Of weeds nocturnal made. " As Philomel on thorn, So pensive and forlorn : 21 As Niobe of stone, So motionless and lone, Sits 'neath that baleful shade, The melancholy maid ; Though daisi'd pied the ground, And sweet flow'rs springing round. " Their odours on the gale, She seeks not to inhale ; No eye has she for fair, Or beauty bright or rare ; For song of bird no ear For music soft or clear ; Nor murmur of the rill, Her tears are feeding still. "As dove, deprived of mate, Forlorn, disconsolate, In shady covert lone, Still cooes in pensive tone : Of severance mourns the pain, Nor solace can obtain ; But still is heard deplore, Those joys that come no more. " Thus Grief so lonely sits, And sobs and weeps by fits ; So plaintive seems to 'wail, 22 While pouring forth her tale To Sorrow, sad in sighs, Who, with her tears, replies ; And thus the mournful twain Each other aid to plain. " Seek not to stay her grief ! Ye cannot yield relief; Forbear to bid her joy ! Your efforts but annoy. And should ye offer cheer, Ye but compel the tear ; The sweetest sounds but jar, And comfort further mar. " Her features, rather, scan, Her hollow cheek and wan ; Her eyes how red and blear ! Her hair how dried and sear ! Dishevell'd hangs each tress ; How negligent her dress ! See, if she moves, how slow ! As one oppress'd with woe. " With sad, dejected mein Ills only skill'd to glean She finds in every place Additions to distress : 23 Near every rose a thorn, Some deeper cause to mourn, And would in Eden, there Find fuel for despair." OLD MAN " She, doubtless, would ; but, were it so, You would with her so nourish woe, Could you allege it, Christian, right, The antidotes to grief, so slight. " Since heav'n afflicts but for our good, The benefit we both illude, When callous to the impending blow, Our heart's are steel'd 'gainst pow'r of woe. " Or when we sink supinely down, O'eraw'd by sorrow's threatening frown ; Each palliative contemn'd, we slight, And nourish woe in time's despite. " But let me counsel, better choose, Nor thus the aid of time refuse ; Submissive bow to heaven's behest, Let peace reanimate thy breast. " Be seal'd thine ear against delay, Should she insidious bid thee stay. At once begin, throw woe aside ; Why yet should grief with thee abide, And sorrow, shouldst thou choose for bride ? For youth, ungenial mate I ween, As e'en in thee may now be seen. " For, by the pale moon's quivering beams, I see thou'rt not as youth beseems ; But ill accordeth with thy years, The gloom upon thy brow appears. " As art refus'd to nature aid, Thy tresses hang all disarray'd ; And signs of negligence are seen In thy habiliments, I ween. Say, at thy years, should it be so ? No, stranger youth, I tell thee no. " The thread-bare robe, and clothing scant, Are pitied in the child of want ; And he would merit fate severe, Who at his poor attire should sneer ; But, stranger, as thou art, I'd vow No son of penury art thou. " My plainness more than strangers use, My age must this my fault excuse ; Yet would I not deceive, in sooth, That even in my earliest youth, '25 I ever much that smoothness priz'd That truth esteems not, save disguis'd, And deems her form must be array'd In flowing robe e'er she displayed : To me such labour seem'd in vain, When simple truth, in language plain, As fit the end in view to gain. " Yet, when rough truth I thus prefer, Perhaps in ignorance I err ; Not early taught distinguish right, Those false may deem alone polite ; For this men oft affect despise, When knowledge lack'd the good to prize. " But I affect not, if I've err'd, When plain to polish'd truth preferr'd ; Since of all falsehoods, 'bove the rest, I affectation most detest ; And thus, young friend, it would appear, I am, if wrong, at least sincere. " Yet when unvarnished truth I use, Deem not I form for those excuse, W r ho under such pretext offend, As zeal for truth, to wound their friend ; Such understanding lack and sense, Scorn of politeness but pretence, 26 Their want of feeling to disguise, Or something worse beneath it lies. " But, stranger, you would do me wrong, To class me with this baleful throng, Who 'gainst politeness militate, Nor from truth's love, nor falsehood's hate My tale, well told, in better guise Would for my fault apologize, Since far from courts my days have sped, Where Pleasure's, Fashion's votaries tread. " My fate it was first breath t' inhale In life's obscure, low, humble vale ; There nurtur'd, there have past my days, By emulation fir'd ; nor praise. Nor pleasures sports my youth beguil'd ; For bread, from earliest years I've toil'd Rul'd by a master harsh and stern, His precepts I compell'd to learn : Necessity, the name he own'd, He on my birth severely frown'd, Employ'd my energies of mind, My first and earliest task assign'd. " Like horse to harness yet unbroke, I chaf d, and sought to 'scape the yoke ; But firmly held the tightening rein, And thus my struggles all were vain. Discover'd this submissive I His wants strove hard to satisfy ; Then lighter seem'd the yoke I bore, Oppressive had appear'd before ; And soon I'd more than he desir'd, Or than my spring-tide e'en requir'd : By prudence taught, what o'er remains Fruits of my youth's laborious pains, I sav'd for that sure coming age, Decrepitude life's latest stage. When ills in crowd too sure assail, Nor prudence, strength, can more avail, This with want's children free I share ; But few there be here claim my care, And few for all that I could give, In this, my solitude, would live. In wilderness so sterile, drear, Nor choice, in sooth, first led me here, To sojourn in so bleak a spot, Though now contented with ray lot, And long by habit reconcil'd, Not willing would I quit this wild. " And see, a little space beyond, The moonbeams fall on rising mound, Where naked furze the spot surround ; But when by spring these clothed in green, There violets, cowslips, too, are seen, And every sweet here found, with care My hand has fond transplant'd there. For, stranger, know, these thorns enclose Where 'neath her ashes quiet repose, Of all earth's comforts priz'd the most The one attraction life could boast. Superfluous tell, how good and fair My Anna, partner of my care, How on my youth she sweetly smil'd How when I wearied, worn, and toil'd, Returning sought my humble shed, How cheerful she my viands spread Around my hearth such radiance cast, Day's toils forgot, the labours past Appear'd a trifle, all too light For recompense of such delight. " Then came disease : my partner died, I sorrow'd long, and wept, and sigh'd, And sunk in lowest depths of gloom, My only aim to mourn my doom, And envying view my Anna's tomb. At length the master stern had rul'd My first young years, in kindness school'd, Pointed the path I must pursue, And duties yet remain'd to do. 29 Then Reason kind instructress came, And with Religion taught to stem The swelling surge of sorrow's wave, And Time his opiate kindly gave, Till I on Anna's lowly grave, While gazing calm, the thought could bear, Though she my toils no more should share, No more her sweetness banish care. Life's fountain stay'd within my breast, AVith her I tranquil soon should rest ; Till then I seek like path pursue, AVith heaven my hoped-for goal in view ; Till then I peaceful here abide, Nor far from Anna's grave reside. " This the first tie my steps here bound, But I since then have others found : Nor would I quit this barren moor, Its meagre soil and herbage poor, For fertile fields and meadows fair, A softer clime, more genial air ; Since though nor verdure, bloom invite, Here liberty free thoughts incite Here may I speak as nature taught, My speech unfetter'd as my thought ; And thus my words may harshly sound ; Yet, stranger, deem not I would wound, 30 E'en when I say thy gloom appears Unmeet for thy apparent years. " Thy dress neglected, void of taste, As round thee thrown in careless haste, Looks as thy spring let run to waste : And much like affectation shows, Thy sombre look and heavy brows : Such I would have thee to despite, T'affect a wisdom is not wise ; And as the use of olden date Gives to the old free leave to prate, Grant me the privilege to say, As youth and age have each their day, What not unmeet in youth appears, May folly be in upper years. " Nor folly is it less I ween, For youth to copy wisdom's mein, Than feeble gait of life's extreme. Usurpers both, and out of place, Less honour being they than disgrace, The skill'd in penetration know A void there is 'neath either show, And e'en the least discerning see A contrast there from what should be, And wond'ring view the strange display Of solemn youth and old age gay, 31 As we beholding summer snow, Or flowers at point of Zero blow. " Or should, young friend, some springtide's morn Your steps allure through fields of corn, Where living green the whole appears, Save here and there some scatter'd ears, By the emerald ye descry, Sicklied o'er with topaz dye, Do these your admiration raise ? Deserve the guerdon of your praise, Reminding you of harvests white ? No, but of mildew and of blight. Ripe ere they're full, ye surely know They ne'er shall to perfection grow Shall early on the ground be strown, The place they occupied unknown. " So, when the reaper comes to glean, Should he descry some ears still green, A contrast to the general show, And golden tints around him glow, Will he for these his scythe forbear, Till they the common livery wear ? No, these are past regardless by, Unworthy of his hand, or lie, Not yet matur'd, when all is sear, Deem'd but the offshoots of the year ; 32 Sever'd apart, they stand awhile, Long as pale autumn's sun may smile, 'Till trampl'd by some passer by, They, like the last, neglected lie : The very fowls, the stubbly field, That kind for them rich harvest's yield, Pass in their quest the blighted green, And know from these they nought can glean." STRANGER "Old man, you've spoke at wond'rous length, Exhausted sure must be your strength, And I with patience all have heard, And what apology preferr'd, For criticism harsh and rude, On those invade your solitude Yet doubt not your intention kind, At least believe you well design'd ; Now add one obligation more, And leave me lonely as before, Sole occupant of this grey stone, For desolation fitting throne." OLD MAN " I cannot leave thee stranger so t Thus sunk in apathy or woe, Without to cheer an effort made. Come, let me as a sire persuade, Arouse thee, youth ! On freedom dare, Nor fall a martyr to despair ; S3 Why droop lethargic down supine, E'en in thy spring, life's sweets resign? Why wrap thee in a garment made, By melancholy sombre shade ? " When glazing eye, impeded breath, Remind us of approaching death ; Almost done with life's commotion, Verging nearer to that ocean, Limitless and never ending ; While our footsteps thither wending, Demeanour grave and sober gait, Serious speech and look sedate, The fitting ornaments appear, When wither'd is our leaf and sear. " Different far in youthful prime, Just dawning manhood's sunny clime, When Hope his glass before us holds, And seeming length of years unfolds More radiant each than that before, Seems as they never would be o'er, Like an eternity fourscore. " The will that wants but wings to fly, Buoyant step, and lightening eye, Spirits overflowing the brim, 34 Love of frolic, mirth, and whim, Form erect and vig'rous limb. " The careless speech and open hand, Firm trust in friendship's rope of sand. An arm of strength can falchion wield, Or hurl the dart, or hold the shield ; Youth in his strength secure relies, And the approach of ill defies ; Or deems he shall exemption claim, And sorrows only known by name ; Fate's thunders hearing unalarm'd, And from perils escape unharm'd. " Ambitious projects cherish'd vain, He shall high altitude attain ; Thence, like the eagle, dare to gaze Undazzl'd, on the noontide rays, Or, from that lofty summit's brow, Look on ignoble crowds below, That toiling, weari'd, hopeless bend, O'er tasks, with life can only end. " Now moving on with rapid pace, Swift speeding in life's forward race ; Eager every pleasure tasting, Careless, time and treasure wasting, Never thinking of to-morrow ; Not a thought of future sorrow, Impell'd by passion's fierce and strong, Impet'ously he's borne along, Restrain'd by reason's voice, nor strong As courser on the Scythian plain, Disdaining bridle, bit, or rein. " Yet more his energy unfolds, Impediments, as nought he holds ; Heedless into danger rushing, Like the mountain torrent gushing, Obstacles are torn asunder, Late the objects of our wonder ; While the old look on and ponder, Their bald heads shake, and sadly say, ' Such force was ours, we've had our day, Then turn on feeble steps and slow, To rest, oft pausing as they go. " As I have heard, or yet beheld, Such traits distinguish youth from eld, And still Experience matron sage, Such contrasts finds 'twixt youth and age ; But we might fancy she but dream'd, Wert thou alone, criterion deem'd, Since youth's insignia none we view, 'Though thy apparent years but few. Whence the distinction which we trace Betwixt thee and the youthful race ?" STRANGER " Should you enumerate by years I'm young, yet old, these steep'd in tears And for the rest, ye sure must know. Omnipotent the power of woe The strength of manhood to subdue, To form the character anew, And on youth's marble brow to trace Those furrows joy can ne'er erase. Nay, e'en the thoughtless, erst and gay, While sorrow pale exerts her sway, Their manner, suiting to their fate, Shall sage appear, at least sedate ; Although alone for period brief, Nor date more lengthened bears than grief, Fresh objects soon their cares beguile, Ere dried the tear again they smile ; Their minds as fickle as the blast ; But mine in different mould was cast, Transitions such not form'd to bear, To raptures hurried, from despair. " Where on my heart engraved with pain Grief record found, it must remain Those sorrows round my heart have twin'd Can never, never be disjoin'd. " In vain for ine Hope spreads his wing, Nor Summer gales, nor voice of Spring, Can aught of joy or gladness bring. No pleasures can my thoughts allure, My wounds no halmy compounds cure, The martyrdom continues still, And mocks at art, or time, or skill. " 'Tis known the flower from soil just sprung If yet its bud be nipped or wrung, Its beauty never can regain, Though sunshine beam, and fall the rain Tis with some human blossoms so, Too early crossed and steeped in woe : And mine, so sudden was the blow ! My all of youth that instant died, Wounded in honour, love, and pride. " I speak in riddles ; is't not so ; Thou never heard' st my tale of woe ; Than this, thou need'st not further tell, Tis thine in solitude to dwell. That isolated thou must live, Nor surer witness could'st thou give, Since friends their aid have lent my foes To spread the story of my woes ; And whether love or hate they proved With like celerity have moved, Each adjunct of my adverse fate, And annals to disseminate ; Till, I had deemed, remained not one But knew how I had been undone. " Old man, thy days have peaceful sped, Contented with thy humble shed, Except thy toils and lot obscure, \Vhat evils had'st thou to endure? What though thy faithful partner died, Solace time, reason, have supplied ; And what the trial than this beside, From life's first spring to thy decline, Thou yet could'st say had equall'd mine V " Ah, no, the thought dare not intrude, Thou on destruction's verge hast stood As I, and seen thy all of bliss Sink in unfathomable abyss ; Without the power one instant stay Its rapid flight in downward way. " Had'st thou the goblet from thy lip Dashed rudely, as thou thought' st to sip ? The luscious potion, nectared store, Had served for gods, in days of yore Ere thou the sweet had'st time to taste Spilt on the ground, run all to waste ? Had'st thou a bride as mine, so fair ? A sister, could with mine compare ? A friend as false ? It could not be ; Save fiend alone, none false as he, Nor suffered victim e'er like me. Compell'd upon destruction's brink, And tortured aye, for I must think ; And well ye know that thought supplies Our hopes, our fears, our agonies. " But Hope and Fear are mine no more, What can I dread, the worst is o'er ; And Hope has nought for me in store. But retrospection still remains, To rack me with a thousand pains ; While spectres, an assistant throng, Still to my view present each wrong ; The tableau still before me place, Where deep engraved seen every trace Of shame, dishonour, and disgrace. " What if ye say, these spectres nought, Or but the borrow'd forms of thought ; My eyes by fancy led, deceive ; And your averment I believe. Can I the more refuse to see, Or from their dreaded presence flee, When from the gloom they shall elance 40 And recommence their hideous dance, About me press, close hem me round, And links display my footsteps bound. " Because their origin ye trace, Shall I less feel their chill embrace ? Or close my ear against the sound, That awful breaks the still profound, When falls, appalling on my ear, Their hollow laughter, gibe, or jeer. " No, no, old friend, your reasoning vain, As that of those who will maintain What anguish yields, is yet no pain. What evil, only seeming so ; Existence e'en deny of woe, As some have done of that proud sect, Who find a virtue in defect, As me, persuade, what felt and seen, Not more substantial than a dream. " Go, when you list, the tortur'd tell ! 'Tis notion vain, they yet are well, 'Though stretch'd on the revolving wheel, They may their eyelids tranquil seal. 'Though every nerve and tendon broke, They may, unmov'd, abide the shock. Go, baste to these ! And still their cries, n When writhing 'mid their agonies ; By telling, such ideal are, Nor should allow'd their comfort mar. If they your sophistry receive, Perhaps, e'en then, I might believe My sight and sense alike deceive. " Go, and proclaim in Sorrow's ear, That causelessly she sheds the tear ! That, though her garland stripp'd and bare, Depriv'd of every floweret fair, Was wont to bud and blossom there. 'Tis vain to mourn the common doom, That all alike must share the tomb, As mortal born alone to die. If reasoning such, arrest her sigh, Her spirit calm or sooth her grief, Or yield despondency relief ; And she her loss lament the less From listening to your common place : Perhaps I comfort may derive, And with these phantoms cease to strive ; And even when I feel and see, Illusions, still may deem they be ; Nay more, may e'en myself persuade My cause of grief itself a shade. " What ! Dost thou deem, old man, I rave ? 42 Thou eyest me thus, with aspect grave, Thy hands cross'd solemn on thy breast, While in thy look I see express'd Unhappy 1 ' Thou art sure possess'd ! ' " Thus deem'd ray kinsmen, they were wrong, In suffering's spite, my reason's strong, And still uninjur'd is my brain ; Though sometimes here, I feel a strain ; But that alone when skies are bright, And sheds the sun refulgent light. " But tranquil soon, and calm again, Rest ye assured, as ye, I'm sane ; And if ye would my story know, Its outlines I, at least, will show, In such a calm and measured tone As Lunacv ne'er call'd her own." PART SECOND. Where first inhaled the vital air, It matters not the spot, nor where 43 Nor need I ask thee time afford, While I its features should record ; Or in my memory back retrace Its all of beauty and of grace. Let it suffice, it was a vale, With many a sunny slope and dale ; In the distance hills receding, Flocks around their bases feeding On the herbage crisp and scented, As the amethyst, so painted Heath and thvine as rivals vying, Deep the whole with purple dyeing. Save where at intervals descri'd Spots verdure clad and daisy-pied, Embroider'd with the crowfoot o'er, And the cowslip's paler flower. Beauty to the landscape lending, As their tints harmonious blending, Charm the eye, our sight delighting, Bees unceasingly alighting, Adding to their honey'd store, Murmuring glad one sense the more. No wonder 'though their seat had there Rude health and vigour constant pair- With these I visits wont to pay, When life was one long holy -day. 44 Just in the midst, in channel deep, 'Twixt banks, precipitous and steep. Majestic rolling towards the main, A flood disparts the vale in twain. From afar speeds on the river Seems as it would flow for ever, With force subdu'd, 'though not less strong, So smooth its current moves along. Like a lengthen'd mirror sliding Seems it, as ye view it gliding ; So equable and smooth its motion, Rolling onwards to the ocean. 'Till just before the vale it leave Seen its mighty breast to heave, As if with slumbering ire suppress'd, As jagg'd rocks its course infest ; Rugged rendering all its bed, Abruptly rising over head, Place a barrier in its way, And thus its progress on would stay, And keep the swelling stream at bay. Stoppage for an instant causing In its flow a moment pausing, As struggling with convulsive throes, Then o'er the precipice it goes, Perpendicular as a wall, Ye may think how dread the fall ? Transform'd to froth and hazy smoke, Its waters decomposed and broke, In agitation, wildly toss'd, Its former semblance wholly lost. Can it be we e'er shall view That stream emerge and speed anew ? Yes ; for see its wrath forgetting, As the turmoil warm regretting, Former differences slighting, All its globules re-uniting, Indivisible as ever, Form one whole, a mighty river ; With current tranquil as before Hastening to its far off shore, But, save in dews and gentle rain, Our valley ne'er to glad again. But than the river's flowing tide Many a streamlet there beside. Many a brooklet devious wending, Fringing willows o'er them bending. These, from either side embracing Strict their branches interlacing ; So the stream beneath secluding, Rarely sunbeam there intruding. But it lasts not this seclusion, Where the daylight e'en intrusion, Vain the osier boughs embracing So their twiglets interlacing, From their coverts soon elancing, In their mazy course advancing, Gaily bounding seem they playing, Through the laughing meadows straying, O'er the pebbles light curvetting, Silver sheen in emerald setting ; To the eye alone appearing, As their progress onward steering : Save that on these approaching near, Is heard a murmur soft and clear, To soothe and tranquillize the ear. At intervals light thrown across Some tree-stem, overgrown with moss ; These rustic bridges serving well When streams the rains autumnal swell. Since buttress, arch, requiring none, Nor skill, artificer, nor stone. By these bridges so supported, Watch ye might, while swallows sported, Ever o'er the streamlet gliding, For their callow brood providing, As the myriad insects dancing, 47 In the sunbeams brightly glancing, Light on their gauzy pinions fly, A constant banquet here supply. This the charm alone they're finding, In the riv'let's devious winding ; Yet their appetites regaling, Skimming lightly, graceful sailing, Of beauty thinking nought or grace ; Both, they find, their motions trace. Lighter than terrestrial things Seem they, on their lengthen'd wings, And to quiver scarce those pinions ; So, where gnats in thronging millions, Hover they, as self-sustaining, When due altitude attaining ; E'er with sudden motion darting, And their insect prey disparting, Again to mount, again to fly, With effort that eludes the eye, With circling sweep, and easy sail, With open beak, and forked tail, . Still round these streams would swallows sport, As these had been their choice resort. Groves, with music sweet resounding, In the vale there are abounding. From a thousand feather 'd throats Warbl'd here the sweetest notes. 'Twere vain attempt each minstrel name, Where wanting none here, known to fame ; Morning, noon, and all day long Salutes the ear a tide of song. Eglantines, their garlands wreathing, Flowers, their balmy odours breathing, Bloom of Eden sure not fairer, Nor, I deem, their fragrance rarer ; Brilliantly their colours blending, While they incense forth are sending ; Sweet their perfumes to inhale ! AVafted on the zephry gale. Oaks their stems majestic rearing, Of decay no signs appearing, Fall their acorns in the blast, As they fell in ages past. Stand they now as then they stood, As each comprized in self a wood, Offering wide a shelter free, Spreads far each venerable tree. Bowery lanes, where lonely wandering, On the other side meandering, The murmer of the brook you hear, 'Though not a glimpse of it appear Beech and hawthorn so o'ershading, While on mossy carpet treading, Save the foliage and the sky, The sight can nought beyond descry ; " But within is many a seat, Thick emboss'd with violets sweet, Where, when with drowsiness oppress'd, Tired Weari'dness his limbs may rest In peaceful guise may here recline, The future seeking to divine ; Or on his actions past may ponder His days with wisdom plan to number From molestation here as free, As man in wilderness might be. " Just in the confines of the vale, Between a lake and wood'd dale, On rocky eminence is plac'd, What once as feudal palace grac'd : A castle mouldering to decay, Its crumbling walls with lichens grey ; Like giant gaunt escap'd the wars, 'Though lopp'd his limbs, and seam'd with scars, Avails no more to fight, his skill, 'Though giant in proportions still. So stands in its dimensions vaat, This relic of the ages past. And Nature seems to take a pride, The ravages of time to hide, And spreads her flowery mantle o'er The structure, powerless to restore ; And thus, 'though hastening to decay, Each mouldering stone wears surface gay. " Ivy o'er the ruins spreading, While a thousand mosses aiding ; Stonecroft in each crevice growing, Rich their golden blossoms glowing. " From each interstice is peeping, Saxifrage, its rootlets creeping Insidious mine 'neath every stone, And thus destruction hasten on. While its leaves form covering close, And with emerald rich emboss ; Ambitious more, its bloom aspires, Clustering round their crimson wires ; As its petals spreading wide, The mimic skill of art deride. " Here too, profuse, the wallflower spreads, And free in air her fragrance sheds, While woodbine and the eglantine In tangling wreaths around her twine. 51 Veronica and harebells blue, And foxgloves of more gorgeous hue, With waving grass commingling grow, And offering free, their all bestow, To graceful decorate the scene With petals gay and verdure green ; And hide the progress of decay Beneath a brilliant surface gay. " Thus Nature kind bestows her bloom, 'Though powerless to arrest its doom, And spreads her flowery mantle o'er, Nor, 'neath Time's reign, can Nature more. " Lightning blasted 'though the tower, Shattered by the tempest's power, And for its use no more employ'd, Stands it still, yet undestroyed ; 'Though causing wonder now no more, As it was wont in days of yore ; When in completion's freshest stage, It stood the wonder of the age. Now, none may climb its spiral stair, Decay'd and broke beyond repair By time a fragment left alone, Conjecture's guide to what is gone. " Round its turrets nests are clustered, 52 In its dungeons bats have muster'd, Owls shelter find in many a nook, Or from its slit-holes dazzl'd look Owls and bats to lodge come hither, And leave in twilight hour together. " Rooks and daws wing through the air, And hold diurnal meetings there Wheeling, turning, chattering gay, Appearing full of bustle they ; And still the ceaseless caw is heard, From every bustling restless bird. " Once the abode of pomp and pride, Than tenants these, none left beside, Of pristine greatness, relic only, All unpeopl'd sad, and lonely. " Yet, 'though thus hastening to decay, By tempest shatter'd, worn, and grey, It has that reverence o'er it thrown, That time bestows, and time alone ; And like the Genius of the place, It sheds a dignity and grace, ' Iji,; On objects in themselves have none, Save what reflects this pile of stone. And there, Old Man, in olden date My sire's grandsires lived in state, Ere the huge mass impression bore Of time, or of the tempest's power ; AVhen, as the battlements they pac'd, Far as their vision could have trac'd, From that position looking down, All thus beheld they claimed their own Save death alone, all else within, Dependent on their slightest whim. Sole representative am I, Thus of a race once famed and high, The last descendant of Rossale, Their ruined structure suit I well, Save that it yielded slow to time, I stricken in my noonday's prime It flourished long and shelter gave To many a gallant hero brave, To many a beauteous blooming maid. To many a pilgrim offered shade, There found asylum the distress'd Secure retreat, the toil'd, oppressed ; But I 'neath one disastrous blow, My hopes have seen at once laid low ; Bend in my youth towards the tomb, Nor from Time's hand receive my doom. " Excuse, Old Man, where sorrows prey The thoughts will oft with memory stray ; 54 But the sad retrospection o'er, I shall my theme resume once more. " Behind the ruins, skirting round, A verdant belt the valleys bound Majestic woods with foliage crown'd, Hem all within as fairy ground So soft, so lovely, and so fair, The landscape breaks enchanting there, With cots and orchards so o'erdott'd, With flocks and herds so richly spott'd, With hill and dale, and mead and field, And all each sense delight can yield. " E'en the cascade sublimely falling, With a noise the ear appalling ; When distance soften'd has the tone, The cadence might seem music's own. " In short, no spot described or seen By fancy's aid or in a dream, The least comparison could bear, Or in its praises claim to share, As Harmony, and Grace, and Beauty, To lend their aid, had deemed a duty, Not rivals, nor their powerdividing, But o'er the dale at once presiding, Their various gifts had thus enwreathed, And each in turn a sweetness breathed, To shed enchantment o'er the whole, To rapture every sense and soul. " Its graces such and much remains, For nature's charms it yet retains, But now no more the chief it knows Of deep seclusion and repose. Since Fame has told the world how fair, 'Scaped from the city's pent-up air, Each season thither crowds repair, To seek in Rossale's peaceful dale, Fresh vigour from its every gale : In'ts waters lave, and parch'd lips cool, And fountains find in every pool, On languid limbs its haunts explore, And villas build where cots before. Each pepper-box a castle call, And turrets build on garden wall, Then grace the whole with some fine name, Unknown to common sense or fame. " Time was when ye might wander slow By rippling stream or river's flow, By hill or dale, or grove or wood, Alike unbroke your solitude. " But solitary now no more Would you your favourite haunts explore, Since interrupters still you meet, Intruders on each quiet retreat Picnic parties everywhere, Are seen to dot the prospect fair. At every turn your eyes are greeted, By city beaus and misses seated ; With glass, book, pencil, duly armed, They with themselves and all things charmed, Gaze on each object, foul or fair, In haste to form a tableau rare. " Nor fault with this their taste I find, Where skill and genius are combin'd, But do when affectation led Those feign a taste, whom neither aid, Then nature's features so disguise, That none what meant could recognize. If the inscription chance should blot, This is a sketch of such a spot ; As if the wrong preferred to right, Perspective's rules so much they slight. The near and distant friendly mingle, The foreground's objects seem to dwindle, As modest from the view retiring, But as receding more aspiring ; In size increasing, larger grow, While on house-tops trees seem to grow. " So much within small space comprised, That 'though the artist Argus eyed, With orbs of vision placed around, How in his range the whole hare found : How dotted down within such space, Must sure have been a puzzling case ; Called to admire, we wonder whither Came objects so diverse together. " But when of Rossale's vale I spoke, 'Twas e'er the gay world on it broke Nor artists such, nor tourists then, Or ann'd with pencil, or with pen, Had sought in their respective ways To spread its fame or sound its praise ; And crowds, escaped from city air, Induced to seek fresh vigour there, And in return, for good received, Of value more the vale bereaved Have change and innovation brought, Our rustics alien manners taught, And from their homesteads far to range, In quest of novelty and change, Then back return, by folly led, Contamination round to spread. " And thus, so alter'd is the vale, That ye by chance might pass Rossale, 58 And 'though pronounc'd its features fair, And mildly pure its balmy air, Yet deem not it had ever known That still repose once all its own, Ere swarming throngs from city's pent Their footsteps thitherward had hent, To seek in Rossale's peaceful vale, Fresh vigour from its every gale. PART THIRD. " But to my tale, 'twas here was pass'd My youth's glad spring too bright to las* For I each envied good possess'd, In all that life desires was blest Had health, strength, friends, all seeming true, For Nature smil'd, and Fortune too, Then strange it were had friends been few. " Had at my own disposal leisure, And wealth to purchase every pleasure, But never those deem'd guilty, I Desired, or dar'd for such to sigh ; Exchange so dire taught to contemn, A transient bliss^for lasting shame ; I from my soul abhorr'd the thought Of joys false nam'd so dearly bought. " My pleasures were of simpler kind, And such as left no sting behind ; Nor was it difficult to glean Enjoyment from life's every scene, Where all was mine it could bestow On mortals happiest below. " Gay with the lark I woke the morn, And follow'd glad the pealing horn, As thoughtless as my steed of ought Beyond the joy the moment brought As hilarious, and from care as free As dogs that frolic'd round in glee, And eager in the sport to share, Already snuffed in morning air, Where in her form the hare repos'd, And, open-eyed, while watching doz'd. " 'Though in strict sense no angler, I To sylvan haunts would often hie, And bending o'er some silvery brook, Stretch far with rod the guileful hook ; Though more I rect not for the prey, 60 Than as it forin'd pretext to stay By rippling stream, its murmur hear, And blackbird's whistle loud aud clear, While swallows in their airy flight Regale not less afforded sight. " There, 'neath some trees' umbrageous shade, Whose verdant boughs o'erarch'd my head, While clearly seen each quivering leaf, Reflected in the stream beneath ; I pleas'd for hours would tranquil stay, Nor mark how swift time sped away My mind as peaceful as the scene That round me softly smil'd serene. " Here oft remain, until the sun His race apparent half had run, And thus increas'd his strength and power, Then would I seek a shadier bow'r. " Or where the waters fretting still, Had scoop'd with more than mortal skill A hollow in the solid rock, And through the adamant had broke, And thus a grotto cool had made, With various flints and spars inlaid ; There oft reclin'd, I careless lay Till spent the sultry hours of day, 61 Screen'd from the sun's fierce scorching beam, And lost my thoughts in pleasing dream, Would form those structures hased on air, Substantial, less than they were fair. " These built I, and rebuilt at will, And new improvements adding still More and more perfect would they grow, 'Till I enamoured of their show, By cheating fancy so deceived, The whole reality believed ; Until some noise or sudden shock The spell dissolved, and I awoke, To find my day-dream nothing more, Than those of night had prov'd before. " But of my simple pleasure's store Was one than ought delight'd more, Yet at a slight expense was bought, The recreation all I sought A little skiff, a fairy boat, Could more than even this provide. Since bliss it was for me to glide Adown the stream, ere parting day Relinquished had to night her sway. " When, glory touch'd, the westren skies Assum'd a thousand brilliant dies, And these reflected from the stream, As mirror'd on its surface gleam, While nature seem'd more calm to breathe, And all her various charms enwreathe ; E'en when alone, 'twas sweet to float Adown the stream in this my boat ; But, ah ! a thousand times more sweet, When sometimes on its velvet seat She of my thoughts the constant theme, Of every day and nightly dream, Would condescend with me to glide Adown the stream at eventide. " And sometimes e'en the maid would deign Her voice to lend, my feeble strain Seem's trifling now, what pleased me then. " On the river's pure breast How tranquil we glide ! As a mirror unruffl'd The face of the tide, While slow disappearing, As sinking to rest, The sun is bequeathing His splendours the west. " The heavens above us In brilliancy glow, 63 Each lustre reflecting The river below. No rude sounds to startle, But music is heard, In the rustle of leaves, . And the song of the bird. u More lovely the landscape, The air breathing balm, A something of holy Appears in the calm : Our spirits are sooth'd, Our passions at rest, Love left alone reigning Supreme in the breast. " Wilt thou, lovely maiden, Refuse to obey, Thy heart claim exemption Alone from his way '? No, thy soft blush I see, Thy panting breast heaves ; His voice thou hast heard, 'Though in whispers he breathes. " On molten gold floating, As softly we glide, It seems as enchantment (J4 Transfonn'd had the tide ; My eyes too had dazzl'd, So ravished my soul, That scarce from celestial Distinguifih'd the whole. " Ah ! little dreamt I when I sung That even then there o'er me hung, Those clouds, that then the tempest nurst Would soon in wild tornados burst Around my head defenceless break, And vengeance fierce remorseless wreak. " But rest my griefs in Lethe's stream Be pleasures for a space my theme ! *' Of these, I've mention 'd but a part, For I so joy'd in science, art, That study, which they term employment, To me but modified enjoyment ; And so I knowledge could obtain, Nor higher bliss sought I to gain. " Nor studies such as boys might choose, Their leisure moments to amuse Not deep, but light, and sparkling more, On surface found as worthless ore, 65 Yet serving well enough for show To those alone, would seem to know. " On such I chose not time to waste, Nor were they suited to my taste, Since never could I find delight In what was trivial, mean, or trite. " I lov'd my thoughts let loose should fly Through space, and mysteries there that lie, The wonders of the deep explore, Or high 'mid fields of ether soar. " For chose I not my views to bound, As, like the mill- horse, circling round, My steps withheld from footpaths new One beaten road I must pursue. " Nor cared I, the effects to know, The causes deep concealed below, If study might in view these place, And links connecting clearly trace. " And, 'though with masters well supplied, I these alone desired to guide ; But not to dogmatize or school My thoughts submissive to their rule, My mind coerce with tyrant sway While optionless I must obey ; Unquestion'd their opinions take, And mould my own to self- same shape. " Nor chose I, with subservience taine To bow with reverence to a name, Though vaunted in the lists of fame While he that bore, however high, To err, as liable as I. And as I he enrolled a man, And Nature's works as free to scan, As free to analyze her plan. " And thus with Nature free to range, Though ye, Old Man, may deem it strange That in the heyday of my vouth It so should be yet 'twas, in sooth, That I in study found that bliss Which pleasure's votaries often miss. " And e'en when unsuccessful most I could not deem the time as lost So occupied, which, in its flight, Had yielded at the least delight, And pleasures of the purest kind ; Unlike the gross and unrefin'd Since nought they left me to deplore Sad retrospect, when pleasure o'er. 67 " But what my studies, ye enquire ? Ah, too ambitious my desire The circle I had thought to clasp But found a segment fill my grasp ; And then it happ'd, as ye may ween, Whate'er my studies may have been, They interest lost, beheld the theme And object of each after dream. "I'll name a few some time pursu'd, O'er which my mind was wont to brood. Yet own, 'though information sought By conversation, books, and thought, My whole possession were as nought, Were what I know, with unknown weigh'd, And certainty criterion, made. Since when with reasoning close maintain'd I something like to truth attain'd, I could not then of knowledge boast, Since a mere semblance at the most. " For Nature's book, though open spread, And readily its outlines read, Yet wonders in its leaves has more Than highest reason can explore. " There myst'ries are so num'rous found, And seeming marvels so abound, 68 That when most amplified your list- It scanty proves to what is mist, And only serves, to show alone By man how little can be known. " And what discouraging is more, When ye with diligence explore, With patience some discovery chase, Till seems the whole ye clearly trace And former theories all displace What for your toils do ye obtain ? 'Tis disappointment all ye gain. Your labours others soon decry, And newer theories still supply, And your conclusions all deny. And thus what truth to-day appears Explod'd, in a few short years Is baseless found, or error prov'd, And for what specious more, remov'd. " But let me, friend, in part relate What sought I to investigate. " The heavenly spheres I studied long, And what to planets may belong ; The wonders of the mighty ocean, The cause of tides and ceaseless motion What from corruption serves to keep The swelling surges of the deep ? And where its waves those salts imbibe ? And if to these we must ascribe Or whether to its ceaseless motion What uncorrupted keeps the ocean? (1.) " To Lunar influence what due, And why the rolling waves pursue The paly orb, and own her power On ev'ry strand, on ev'ry shore ? " Since laws all things created sway, What are the rules the winds obey ? Why in some regions constant so They but in one direction blow ? And still beneath a tropic sky In airy billows float on high. Strong in their course when moons begin, Still speed they on when moons are dim ; Swift o'er the deep the bark they drive, And still 'gainst opposition strive. (2.) In others, why irregular so, They from no point continuous blow ; The types of all to changes prone. Or fickleness to climax grown ? Sometimes in zephyrs gently flying, 70 Through flowery mazes softly sighing. And now they rise impetuous sweep, In fary wild convulse the deep ; In eddies raise the surge on high. The spiral columns verge the sky, Stride o'er the wave in billows vast, While the pale seaman stands aghast. Then breaking with tremendous crash. The vessel doom'd, to ruin dash. (3.) u Or landward turning fierce their wrath With devastation strew their path, In the tornado wildly blow The oak with might resistless bow ; Earth's atoms raise in whirlwinds high, And deserts rob, to cloud the sky. (4.) " Why sometimes purify the air, Then mildew on their wings should bear ? Now fiercely scorch with breath of fire, While man and brute, death doom'd, expire ? (5. " Solicitous, I strove to know What gives to gems their lustre glow ? Since the most brilliant, highest pria'd Mere carbon proves when analyzed. " Why shells on mountain tops are found ? Why rise these mountains 'bove the ground ; 7! Until the clouds their summit? pierce, Heedless though round them tempests fierce In rude contention boisterous fly, They centuries of storms defy Shrouded in mist, or capp'd in snow The giants of the plain below? (6.) " Why sheltered by the self-same sky Should valleys at their bases lie As Eden's garden, soft and fair, All sterile else, and bleak and bare, As Nova ZembU cold and chill, Where carnival keep tempests stffl? (7.) The stubborn rocks, what forces rend, E'er pulverized, they down descend, Rich mingling with the river's flow To fertilize, the plains below ? - Why clouds in ether free to float Beyond our utmost range remote, Should meet, in rude collision clash, While rous'd the world awaits the crash. And holds suspended e'en her breath. As meteors speed, swift wingM with death ? " Nor was I satisfied to know "Twas when surcharg'd it happened o For I would farther still inquire Why is it that ethereal fire, Diffus'd the universe around, Should in those clouds have prison found ? And why, when rarifi'd the air They thus should meet in conflict there ? " The lightnings darting thence escape ; The thunder's roll, the echoes wake, While seems the solid globe to quake ; Till spent their force they float once more In ether tranquil as before. Appears the end in view attain'd, Once more an equilibrium gain'd ; Till this disturb'd, with motion fleet, Again as combatants they meet, Nor from the battle-field retire Till speeds from both the cause of ire. " This I with the illiterate know, But neither, why it should be so, Save that the mighty first great Cause Assign'd it, one of Nature's laws, That such phenomena have place, Nor man the reason, gave to trace. (8.) " Why lakes I've asked, as seas far spread. Though by a thousand rivers fed, That once engulph'd emerge no more To fertilize another shore ; Should never yet their banks o'erflow, 7:5 Nor even increase seem to know ? What though they say, the Sun his rays, As much extracts to cool his blaze, The vapoury steam ascends on high To loftier regions in the sky, And this condens'd, fall down again In form of dews End gentle rain ; And on some far off mountain's head These feed the streams, the rivers fed. The last increasing in their flow, With rapid sweep, or current slow, Roll onward with majestic force, Till gain'd at last their first great source. Continuous circles forming still, These reservoirs they can but fill. " My mind such reasoning, slightly mov'd- Since more asserted, far than prov'd. " For, as those mighty rivers run, So long his thirst may slake the Sun ; So long each myriad hissing beam Its ardours cool, 'mid clouds of steam ; And vapours heavenwards hence arise, In misty woof dispread the skies ; His face obscure and glories veil, E'er he such portion should exhale As equalize what streams bestow, That once engulph'd, no exit know 74 Of under currents porous bed, O'er which, some say, these seas dispread I too have heard, but could object, And both as theories vain, reject ; Yet, though rejecting, doubting I, Nor better can, than these supply. (9.) " I've ask'd, from fires in secret nurs'd, How thick the intervening crust, And why from regions deep below These fires destructive thence should flow ? " As on their course they awful wend They caverns burst and strata rend, Their rumbling march is heard afar, As thunders loud from fields of war. Emerging thence they shake the ground, And devastation spread around ; Level the hills, upraise the plain, And of the last form hills again. The wild commotion Ocean hears Trembling, his surge in dread appears ; His billows startl'd back recoil E'er mingling in the rude turmoil, Their surface thickly bubbl'd o'er, Then, joining in the wild uproar, They bellowing leave their oozy bed, 7ft And o'er the neighbouring shore dispread ; And far encroaching on the land, Make of the inland plain their strand. " Those slopes with verdure efst were crown'd, Where olives grew, vines trail'd around, The tiller's care reward no more ; Forgot the fame for fruits they bore ; Now but a barrier serve to form When furies lash the waves to storm. " The flowery mead, the cultur'd field, Are 'neath the restless flood conceal'd. The porpoise sports, and dolphins play, Where reapers sung their carols gay ; W T here cereal grasses flourish'd green A watery waste alone is seen. " Or if from ocean far they move Not less destructive there they prove. Troubl'd the Earth awakes from rest, Convuls'd, she groans, upheaves her breast, In agony her bosom rends, The pent up vapour thence ascends ; Clouds with sulph'rous smoke the air, Amidst the shriekings of despair, As mortals vain for safety fly, And horrors round alone descry. 76 " See, in extremity of pain, The Earth wide yawn, to close again, Once more her vitals to disclose While, sympathizing with her throes, Thick darkness veils the skies with gloom ; The thunders roll with sullen boom, The lurid, livid lightnings flash, The hail descends, the torrents dash, And ruin riots 'mid the crash ; The World reels dreadful from the shock, And deems her tie to Nature broke. " Diffus'd around pestiferous breath Each element is arm'd with death, Temples engulph'd, falls cities vast, Nor leave a vestige of the past. The city hoar with length of years At once from vision disappears. Where commerce flourish'd, arts were known, A wilderness appears alone A stagnant lake, or barren waste, Is seen the traveller to arrest Who, to his home returning back, And gazing on destruction's track, The well-known town beholds no more, Nor aught detects there seen before. u Ah! favour 'd sure of mortal race 77 Were he, these dire effects could trace Back to their source, and clearly show How safe to lead those fires below To some far off and barren spot, From cities far and men remote ; And in such desert bleak and bare To harmless spend their force in air. " On such a project, fond I schem'd, Pouder'd by day and nightly dream'd ; But vain my every power applied To scheme how they these fires might guide. Though Science yet such praise may claim. And some obscure unhonour'd name By the discovery raise to fame. " But why rehearse all thoughts engag'd E'er sorrows warfare with me wag'd, And on my fate had adverse frown'd ; Since then, in all I pleasure found Led me inquisitive to scan The works of Nature and of man. " Nor then I deem'd it, wrong to dare Ask what life's essence ? Seated where That mystical infusion lent For period brief and quickly spent ? " Ay, aged friend, and I have thought 78 Until my brain to tension wrought, On soul ; its destiny ; and all May to a spirit doom'd befall ; And what of bliss is understood In that sweet word, Beatitude. " Yet would I not, old friend, deceive, Or have you credulous believe That in my earliest youth I gave To subjects solemn thus and grave, Alone attention or my time 'Though curious those, and these divine. " I courted Music and the Muse, Nor did to favour these refuse. Sweet music ! dull that soul must be That hears unmov'd to rapture, thee. Thy cadence, when it soften'd stole, Was wont to thrill my melting soul ; But when more loud thy swelling note Was heard peal'd forth from brazen throat, It seem'd such valour to impart, Such dauntless courage to my heart, I ween'd, that arms then had I borne, Though leader of the hope forlorn, 'Neath music's influence, fearing nought, Mine must have been the laurels sought. " Nature ador'd, ye well may guess, 7!) The limner's art not priz'd the less ; And did ye sojourn in my halls, Or could ye now behold those walls, Ye would not say I'd laggard been. But what I speak off, all I ween Had place ere I'd beheld the fair And object of each after care Of all my thoughts the constant theme Of every day and nightly dream. PART FOURTH. " But leave of subjects such review, Let me my theme once more pursue. " Of parents though too early left, A sister to my care was left ; And she was all could sister be, Beyond expression dear to me. " Though time, traced backwards to its dawn, Of all existence thence have drawn, Sons, daughters, to the earth allied Or those bv mortals deified None ever that in life had part, Had own'd a truer, warmer, heart. Nor in fond woman's trusting breast A spirit ever had its rest, More gentle, feminine, and kind, From ought of grossness more refin'd, Than that my Arabella sway'd ; As looks, words, actions all display'd. " Though but a year her senior, I The place of parent to supply From earliest youth had made my aim, And in my boyhood e'en would claim Protector's fond and trusted name. And thus it was, as ye may ween, No common bonds there were between Those loving and beloved so well ; And long I deem'd that Arabell First in my heart must ever be, None so belov'd and dear as she. " But Time as on his pinions moving Is every hour some changes proving Though Nature's, nor the human laws, Of change admit without due cause ; And sure in radiant form it came, What in my breast awoke the flame Had latent in my bosom been Ere I Matilda's charms had seen. " Not Venus' self such graces wore, 81 When beauty's palm away she bore, As she, this transformation wrought, My manners chang'd, my language, thought- Of all my musings she the theme, Of every day and nightly dream ; She of my heart the whole possess'd, So, not an impulse of my breast Remain'd, that was not all her own, Nor feeling left, not her's alone. " Yet will I not her praise rehearse, In tropes and ornaments of verse, As lilies, roses, violet eyes, Such silly trifling I despise, And leave to those would falsely show A love, they neither feel nor know. " It is enough, that she my theme, O'er thoughts and feelings reign'd supreme ; It is enough, my heart she won, What more could Venus' self have done ? And I, as worshipper, ador'd. I see your frown, and would afford, A chiding did the time accord. ' Idolatry,' my love's excess ! I may be so, but could I less ? Had you yourself Matilda seen, You must have hail'd her beauty's queen, And e'en perforce have rival been. 82 " Sometimes it seem'd as she too bright, Her beauty overpower'd my sight ; And I, 'though wishful still to gaze, Turn'd dazzl'd from her beauty's blaze. As from the fierce meridian aun, When half his daily course is run, He from the zenith darts his light, And streams abroad his splendours bright, Those turn, had sought to scrutinize Whence such resplendence might arise, While dazzl'd still, their eyeballs seem, They can but tell how bright his beam, Nor may to others more disclose, Than glories all his orb compose. " So on my fair one's radiant charms, I oft would gaze in fond alarms, 'Till dazzl'd by her beauty's glow My eyes turn'd, drooping, earthward low, Nor bore that loveliness to view That still it seem'd more radiant grew, Still lustre, graces, gaining new. " Then think how dread the thought must be, Those charms I never more shall see ; She thrill'd my soul with fond delight, My sun, my life, my all of light Extinguish'd, gone for ever more, And ceas'd all, wont I to adore. 83 " And yet, Old Man, I'm in the mood, To paint my fair, if so I could, That even tenure keep and plain, Which sober mortals should maintain. Nor with hyperbole enlarge, With figures language overcharge, In manner lovers often use, I simple truth alone would choose. " Yet so resolv'd my words must glow, Should even I attempt to show Her portrait, or an outline trace, Of that fair form, that beaut'ous face. And fear, should I depict each charm, My soul arous'd, in wild alarm, Tumult'otiS toss'd, once more should be, As swelling surge of raging sea : While reason on the surface borne, Dismantl'd, shatter'd, and forlorn, Far dash'd on the resounding shore, With ballast fill'd, should sail no more. " But if thy fancy, not all dead, Nor youth's remembrance wholly fled, 'Mid memory's stores thou still mayest trace The image of some lovely face, Thy youth had charm'd, so sweet and fair ; Let this thee guide, but never dare, Nor for an instant may'st thou dream, Such could compare with she my theme, For she my love was peerless, all ; And if so be, it could befall, That forms angelic we might see, I deem not fairer these than she, That more of symmetry they show, Of winning grace or beauty's glow. Nor beauty she alone possess'd According to the vulgar taste, That seeks a faultless shape to find, And features perfect in their kind ; Nor more desires if these supplied With form and colour satisfied She had that something these beside More highly prized, 'though nameless known ; Grace indescribable, her own, Than beauty fascinating more, Which, seen apart, we must adore, But when with loveliness conjoined, Must sway all hearts to love resigned, Who, henceforth, in love's silken chain, As willing captives fond remain. " Her voice, Old Friend, describe I meant, For sure by music it was lent ; And seem'd it still as yet her own So sweet, so clear, its silvery tone. Be still my heart, nor wildly beat ! As memory seems those tones repeat ; Remember'd still, if she but spoke, How strain'd my wrapt attention woke, And seem'd my pulse more rapid play'd, As I to lose had been afraid, The slightest accent or a note That swelling issued from that throat. " That throat ! Ah ! sure it suited well To serve as Music's chosen cell, So fair and graceful it arose, A pillar, midst surrounding snows ; While rosebuds softly seem to ope To give that music freer scope. " Her cheek, her brow, but I forbear 'Twere presumptuous thus to dare In detail every charm retrace, Where all was beauty, all was grace. " Bat half the splendours round her thrown Those lustrous orbs might claim their own. When through dark skies we see appear The stars, we laud each twinkling sphere ; But while we praise, say, can we prove That ever heart to love they move ? To other worlds they light may give, In these may happy spirits live Such theories all may truthful be, But what are they to you or me ? " Mere glow-worms in the azure beaming, Or through night's mantle darkly gleaming, They to our sight alone appear At distance shining cold and clear Powerless to warm, they little cheer. (10.) " Unlike to these Matilda's eyes- Soon as those dark fring'd curtains rise, And beam those brilliant sparklers forth, Though cold the heart as icy north, It must beheld their kindling ray As frost work melt dissolv'd away. " Let cynic e'en those brilliants meet, So full, so languishing, so sweet, Though proof to beauty's every grace Of form, of figure, and of face, One glimpse of these his soul disarms, In vain he would resist their charms, His vigilance must quit the field, Nor panoply his heart can shield. " For conquest thus so fully arm'd, No marvel though my heart they charm \1 ; Besides I fancied that in sooth 87 A fountain each appear 'd of truth ; Or as those radiant lustres roll, The cyrstal sluice-gates of the soul That open to the view disclos'd How pure was that within repos'd " As fleecy clouds in summer skies Gives leave sometimes what 'yond them lies, A deeper and a brighter blue, To break on our admiring view ; And seems it then permissive given To catch a transient glimpse of heaven. " ' The colour what? why, friend, inquire ? Mere colour never could aspire To kindle love's ethereal fire, To warm the soul, or love impart, To fascinate, subdue the heart. Nor deepest jet, nor brightest blue, Nor various shades of hazel hue, Can tittle claim to strike or please Tint vainly all bestow'd on these Expression wanting ; this the fire Alone can warm and love inspire ; For conquest, this has more of power Than all compris'd in beauty's dower. " But, if thou'rt curious and would' st know The tint of those had charm'd me so, They were of hazel's darkest hue Yet ye long while those orbs might view Enchanted by their dazzling play, Their brilliancy and sparkling ray, And mark how far Gonconda's stone In lustre, brightness they outshone, Yet be unable to descry If jet they wore, or hazel's dye So ceaseless was their dazzling play, Such bright resplendency had they ; So perfect in their setting too, Ye well might gaze, nor mark their hue, In admiration lost forget, If hazel were those orbs or jet. " But on those brilliants why dwell, Or on her throat, sweet Music's cell, Or longer why thine ear detain My praise, laudation all in vain, Since thou ne'er saw what I would paint, And to the theme all language faint. " I've said, old friend, my heart she won, Ye know no more she could have done Had she embodied all the charms Have ever set the world in arms ; Nor deem'd I that this globe could hold Another of so perfect mould, And better knew that none could be So dear or so beloved as she. " But in those days when fortune smil'd And I appear'd her favourite child, Strange had it been had friends been few, But I'd a troop, all seeming true. But things since then have sadly chang'd, Of those the most are now estrang'd, Or gone ; some one way, some another, But then each fond as a twin brother ; To ward an ill, or good have lent, It seem'd then each had life's blood spent. " 'Mongst these was one superior far, As might 'mid rushlights beam a star ; So high he soar'd above the throng Of county knights and squires among, And minor gentry of the vale, Who ne'er had been beyond Rossale, And nothing knew save by report, Of crowd' d cities, camp, or court. " Of noble lineage Edward came, Of high descent and lofty name ; But 'though a halo thus was thrown Around his birth, ere ought his own 90 Could with his predecessors vie, Whose bold achievements meet the eye, Emblazon'd on historic page. Scarce enter'd he life's second stage, Ere 'gan his genius to unfold ; And soon in lists of fame enroll'd, His name for prowess far was known, And deeds of daring all his own. And while a youth he yet was young Of the high stem from which he sprung He worthy seem'd, and lustre gave E'en to a race renown'd for brave ; And more than once had borne away, From hardy veterans in the fray The prize of valour from the field, And stubborn foes compell'd to yield, And laurels thus had fairly won, E'er manhood's race had well begun. " He'd travell'd too, and realms travers'd, Whose names are seldom heard in verse, And never sung, so harsh they sound, Though wonders there, there are abound, Can in no other climes be seen ; Strange manners, customs, all I ween, In fond conceit and haughty pride, We, as uncivilized, deride. As we alone were wisdom's heirs, 91 Too apt what different aspect bears, As barbarous, at once esteem, And savage, oppositions deem. " Quick to observe, he well could tell, What strange adventures then befell The traveller, as he journey'd through Climes where all novel strikes the view. " Curious to hear, we listened still, While Edward would narrate with skill What thus beheld, so well describe, So martial forth each savage tribe, And what observ'd so clearly trace, It seem'd our vision reach'd the place Where those wild hordes at freedom roam, In deserts which they claim their home ; The ostrich in the chase pursue, Or seek those adverse to subdue With javelin, or baleful art, From bow swift wing the poison'd dart. " Of these, nor he alone could talk, He'd seen the lion proudly stalk ; And, far remote from haunts of men, In thicket had descried the den, Where, crouch'd, the royal monster lay, E'er hunger press'd he sought his prey ; And forth on velvet footsteps stole To seize upon his living dole. Or, fever parch'd, his thirst to slake, Glide to the pool amidst the hrake, Where gather'd all obnoxious things That crawl on earth, or soar on wings. " Then he in Egypt too had been, Had all those relics famous seen That of the past so much reveal, Yet less make known than they conceal. " He on the Pyramids had stept, In subterranean caverns crept, Where stifling heat, impeded breath, Had seem'd the heralds joint of death. '' Had in the catacombs too been, And well could paint the gloomy scene ; Where, in their cerements closely press'd, The children of old Egypt rest ; As mummies shrivell'd, lean, and dry, Close wedg'd, piled tier on tier they lie ; And as they modern vision shock, Man's aspirations seem to mock. " The ruins of Thebes he'd explor'd, And in its chambers vast had bored ; 93 Could those inscriptions famous read That marvels others, all exceed, Whether in hieroglyphics trac'd Or conic letters those, displac'd ; Those letters, that had baffl'd long The wisest of the learn'd among. And still when he the silence broke, Whate'er the theme on which he spoke, It seem'd that all enchanted hung With wrapt attention on his tongue ; His elocution chaste and neat, In every turn and phrase complete ; And such his manner and his tone As Eloquence might wish her own. This his one excellence, no more, Since he the palm in all things bore As given to him, in all excel All he essay'd, achieved so well. " More fam'd equestrian ne'er bestrode A courser, or more graceful rode ; He danc'd, play'd, sang with equal grace ; Had dignity of form and face ; Nor seem'd in ought deficient he Might with such form and face agree. 41 The crowd's admiring gaze he drew, But love from those who better knew 94 Or thought they did so frank he seem'd, So generously himself dernean'd ; So witty, gallant, debonaire; His manner such, his gait, his air, How could he fail to charm the fair? That thus endow*d, a favourite he, We deem'd it could not other be ; And though some envied his success, Perforce we loved him not the less. Since others he so far excell'd, As admiration e'en compell'd, None could in common justice blame That he received what freely came. " For none suspected him of scheming, So upright all his outward seeming ; His reputation so maintain'd, His honour spotless and sustain'd. For his integrity I could Have jeopardiz'd my every good ; Nor fearing forfeit honour pledg'd, And freely sworn what he alleg'd ; Nay more, for him I'd stak'd my life, Secure of conquering in the strife. " Of not one vice known he the slave, Appearing good, we knew him brave ; 9fi Then vile the wretch we must have deem'd Had dar'd to hint that Edward schem'd. " For me, suspicious I of nought, He shar'd my bosom's every thought ; To him I freely prais'd my fair Matilda's face, Matilda's air ; Her praise for ever on my tongue In different changes still I rung. " She only empress of my soul, Possessing of my thoughts the whole ; Her image on my heart engrav'd, And I to love so much enslav'd. Him dull I scarce forbore to deem Who tir'd of this, my constant theme. But in my friend the fault excus'd, His admiration so diffus'd Amongst the beautiful and fair, And but a modicum to spare. He could not give Matilda more, Though e'en his friends beheld adore. " Sometimes he said, in sportive mood, He beauty lov'd, but never would That any one supreme should reign, Or of his heart sole conquest gain. His aim appear'd such thrall to shun, 96 But seem'd his freedom's race was done, When he my gentle sister woo'd ; And well it suited with my mood And soothing 'twas to love and pride To be in bonds so close allied With one so far above the crowd, With seeming virtues so endow'd. And glad was I, in sooth elate, Since seem'd it such another mate 'Though Britain's isle travers'd with pain, I might not for my sister gain. " My sister, she was passing fair, Yet could not with my bride compare, For she was peerless ; but, beside, None other could the palm divide. " Yet had her beauty not the glow, On Hebes, painters love to show, Nor was it of the brilliant kind, Less fonn'd it seem'd to strike than bind. " As lily pale, save when she blush'd, And o'er her cheek a crimson flush'd, But faded soon the deepen'd die, And wonted palor met the eye, Yet clear as alabaster might, 97 And not disease's sickly white, Her chisell'd features met the sight. " Her auburn hair, in ample flow, Fell graceful round her neck of snow, While eyes of azure's deepest blue Seem'd as they'd borrow'd heaven's own hue : Yet ow'd to tint or colour less, Than to their lustrous beaminess. While seem'd her loveliness complete, Beheld those smiles, 'though pensive sweet, That dimpling round her mouth would play, Although nor sportive she, nor gay ; Nor sad, but cheerful and serene, Her temper's tenure kept, I ween. " Each softer virtue she possess'd, As all asylum in her breast, Had careful sought, and having found Their influence, had diffus'd around, Had subjugated every thought, Her tongue love's gentle accents taught ; And school'd to softest speech alone, Her low sweet voice and silvery tone. All gentleness, in sooth, was she, From every shade of rancour free ; To frown had never learn'd her brow, Nor could she that chill look bestow, a That withering shows a cool disdain, E'en when she reason had to 'plain, Nor ought display, that marks, 'though kind, There's yet a stain of earth behind. " Ne'er did she utter harsh reproof, Nor proudly keep herself aloof From any which she could befriend, But to the meanest would descend ; Yet the descent so easy made, That Fear might come, nor feel afraid. (11.) " In short, in 'Bella, if a spect, A brother's fondness could detect, It might be grant'd, e'en by foes, From virtue's excess it arose. For she so sympathiz'd with pain, So griev'd to hear the wretch'd 'plain ; So mourn'd for victims of distress, So long'd her bounty all could bless ; Was so reluctant to deny If means yet left her to supply The wants of all who sought or sued ; She with compassion so imbu'd And generosity of mind With will so large, and means confin'd Would thus have given her all away, And left herself as poor as they, 99 Her goodness had but just reliev'd, Of farther power to bless bereav'd. " Thus loving, lov'd, to all endear'd, No rivals in her friends she fear'd ; But rather kind, would place in view Their virtues, and admire them, too ; Their failings kindly would look o'er, And, at the least, to scan forebore. " With all the virtues round her wreath'd, In atmosphere of love she breath'd ; Since none unkind, it seem'd, could be To one so gentle, fond as she ; So from all wrathful feelings free. " My Arabella, such my pride, Lov'd only less than she my bride, And only less admir'd, I ween, 'Though contrast greater not between The noontide's splendour, and the ray On the horizon seen to stray, And softly streak the morning sky, Or mellow'd on the evening lie. Thus ye may ween it pleas'd me well, My gentle modest Arabell Should have of bliss her share as sure, As ought that we can deem secure ; Since he best lov'd and trust'd most, 100 Of all my friends the pride and boast, He so with virtue's graces fraught, Had for his bnde my sister sought, As with her milder graces won, The moon his choice, as mine the sun. " For Edmond who, in camps or court, Might with the noblest free consort ; For Edmund who superior far, Had beam'd amongst us as as star, To leave his orbit kindred powers To quarter thus his arms with ours, Was soothing to my love and pride ; And long'd I much to be allied In closer bonds than had us tied, Though knew I well that then before, I could not love nor trust him more." PART FOURTH. " Edmund and I our fair had gained, Had crav'd, and as a boon obtain'd, That e'er the then full-moon had wann'd,- As we together fond had plann'd, That e'er that period brief should cease, 101 Our hopes and fears absorb'd in peace, Should in fruition have an end, And I as brother hail my friend ; And had agreed the self same priest Should service do one wedding feast Spread ample for our friends should be, And all who chose to share our glee. " And many a gay and mirthful theme Many a bright and sunny dream, With music, song, and jest, and sport, Fill'd up the interval, which short, Yet to impatience seem'd as long, In spite of music, mirth, and song. " As lagging time had been to blame We chide delay at length it came, The day our hopes had so endear 'd, And never morn more bright appear'd Than that, which usher'd in the day ; For hopes deferr'd, for fears, delay We deem'd would compensation pay. " In vain I'd sought my lids to close, Thus with the dawn that morn I rose, And, wandering forth, around me gaz'd, Where all my admiration rais'd ; For 'though the vale my native place, 102 And I familiar with each trace, It seem'd till then I'd ne'er descri'd The thousand graces there beside : Those features I already knew, Now broke on ray enraptur'd view. " As if the haze 'till then had been Cast o'er its beauties as a screen, Had parted, and to view reveal'd, Where loveliness had lurk'd conceal'd Where graces unsuspected lay, So bright, so glorious the display. The skies resplendent, clear, and bright, While shed the snn refulgent light ; As nature joyous seeming more, Than e'en her wont dispread her store, And jocund in her smiles array'd, Her fairest attributes display'd. " The hills in distance lost in blue, Alone still wore their sombre hue, 'Though seem'd less dense the mists that shroud, More light the superambient cloud, Still on their summits found to rest ; Where storms are cradl'd, tempests nest. "The woods majestic waving round, Sure were with brighter foliage crowned, 103 The verdure of a deeper green, Where glades and vistas lie between ; While through them gales so softly sigh, Scarce stir the leaflets as they fly"; Yet on their pinions serve to bear Balsamic odours, perfumes rare, And, as they undulating rise, To waft them through the genial skies. 'Twas ecstacy that breeze t' inhale, Then flutter'd lightly through Rossale, And serv'd to cool my fever'd brow With joy then throbb'd, with anguish now. " Nor was there in the grove a spray, That quiver'd in the morning ray, With drops Aurora shed yet bright, But seem'd to quiver with delight ; For scarce, I ween, a twiglet there That could of weight sufficient bear, But on it perch'd was some sweet bird, Anxious its warblings should be heard ; While echo charm'd repeats each song, Is heard the tuft'd boughs among. " My heart responsive to the lay, Seems in my breast to melt away ; For every minstrel of the spring, Had sure agreed of love to sing ; 104 And thus in concert had conjoin'd, Their mingl'd harmony corabin'd, In one rich strain of music clear, Should on that morn salute the ear ; Nor yet a flow'ret of the field, But to my fancy seem'd to yield A brighter and a deeper bloom, To shed abroad more rich perfume As from its scented atmosphere, It tremulous display'd the tear, That bent it on its slender stem, And crown'd with dewy diadem. " And seem'd more placid still the flow Of that huge river, moving slow ; For if it glides ye scarcely know, As through the spreading foliage green, Ye catch at intervals its sheen ; A silver streak each brooklet shone, And all these charms, this spot my own. " My own ! 0, doubly bless'd the sound ! I cry'd, as 'raptur'd gazing round The landscape, I survey'd once moi*e, And glanc'd its kindling beauties o'er. But yet, old friend, 'though smiling fair, And genial mild its balmy air, 105 And 'neath kind nature's fostering smile, With verdure clad its teeming soil, 'Twas not for all kind nature yields, So valu'd I its groves or fields. " Nor as my own alone to reign Sole monarch o'er the vale's domain ; Nor as my own as such to dote, As misers o'er their treasures gloat No feelings such my breast inspir'd, When I, by generous ardour fir'd, Rejoicing hail'd all seen as mine, 'Twas, I thus might free resign, All charm 'd the eye of verdure hue, Or sight entranc'd beneath the blue ; And never victor long'd for crown, As I to lay my offering down, And hail Matilda, beauty's queen, Sole empress of the smiling scene ! " Such were my thoughts on that glad morn But let me to my tale return. High in the sky the sun now tow'rs, Arm'd with accumulated pow'rs ; The hours run on in circling race, Pursued by joy in sportive chase ; And wedding guests in throngs appear, Prepar'd for festal mirth and cheer ; 106 While minstrels on the threshhold stand, And welcome glad each smiling band. " For customs of the olden time In Rossale's Vale were still in prime ; And yet in all their strength surviv'd, Though long forgot whence these deriv'd. " And thus, as wont in days of yore, When Rossale's Barons proudly wore The crest, in days bygone assum'd. A mounted eagle, light illum'd, That seem'd to Bay with flashing eye, ' Foes none I shun, and all defy.' When ever in their halls was ought That to their inmates gladness brought, There yet appear'd, as something wrong, If music absent still and song ; And thus, in honour of the day, Sung minstrels many a roundelay, And many a song and carol gay. And though the words might simple be, Yet heard by those disposed for glee, And join'd to music's witching spell, They pleas'd the hearers passing well. " Some ditties on that morn were eung, To memory have so firmly clung, 107 That though since then past many a d ay E'en now I could repeat each lay. " The first then sung, a quaint old verse ; I shall the first in place rehearse, Remembering in my then glad mood, As welcome to beatitude, The carol sounded, loud and clear As then it smote my raptur'd ear. " ' With joy ye guests assemble ! No more your friend need tremble, Lest, although his foes, Some other hand should pluck his rose. ' Nor while its leaves unfolding, Its beauties all beholding, Till dazzl'd e'en with gazing, His senses fond amazing, Fear, although unseen his foes, Some other hand should pluck his rose. ' Jealous doubts distract no more, Now almost he grasps the flower, Its odours rich inhaling, His every sense regaling, Fearless, though unseen his foes, Some other hand should pluck his rose.' 108 " The next, as simple and as plain, Was more a moralizing strain, Nor ought contain'd of mirth I ween ; I know not how it could have been That such a sad and sober lay Had entrance found in such a day. But so it was, it then was sung, And to my ear it yet hath clung, E'en as the first, as firm as ought And with remembrance seems inwrought. " ' How pleasing is our duty To sing the praise of beauty, So radient and so fair ! A goddess in her seeming Is beauty brightly beaming ; But yet, fond youth, beware ! ' That sweetly dimpl'd smiling Thy simple heart beguiling, Perhaps some other's share ; That loveliness enchanting, If virtue there is wanting, At best is but a snare. ' Those flowers, although the fairest, The richest and the rarest, E'er perfumes shed on air, 109 ' Around her brow entwining, Their mingl'd sweets combining, In garland rich and rare. ' Though now they're incense breathing, Their vari'd bloom enwreathing, Have yet no rooting their. From where they grew dissever'd, They fad'd soon and wither'd, The chaplet shall leave bare. ' And she of all terestrial, Thou deemest might with celestial, Or seraphs e'en compare I What pleasing, but assuming, In borrow'd graces blooming, As transient these may wear. ' Then though thy heart, wild beating, Her praises but repeating ! Stop, stop, fond youth, beware ! While of thy soul inquiring, Thy raptures what inspiring, If real worth is there ? ' If not, those smiles alluring, No constancy ensuring, Nor ought worth virtue's care ; 110 Are but as ye, fond lover, Too early shall discover, Thy heart worn to ensnare. ' Then slight not so our warning, But all thy powers full arming, At last on freedom dare ; For know she, e're to-morrow, Shall wring thy heart with sorrow, And leave thee to despair !' " It was, in sooth, a saddening lay, And inappropriate to the day, More fitted for a dirge, I ween, Than suit'd to the festal scene. But, far too jocund there the throng To heed the words of simple song ; Though these in sorrow steep'd had been, They scarce had damp'd the hil'rous scene. So cheerful they ; in sooth, the set Might well have pass'd for those had met The rites of mirth to celebrate. While Joy, sole monarch of the place, Had with his presence deign'd to grace Each heart, resolv'd to sway alone, Nor bear a rival near his throne, Had thus around his beams diffus'd, And every face, with smiles suffus'd, Ill Had modulated every tone, Tun'd every voice to suit his own. " And never sceptred despot's sway More willing subjects found than they, Inspir'd by music, mirth, and song, Components of the happy throng That had in crowd assembl'd there, Resolv'd our festal mirth to share. " While, happiest of the happy, I Could scarce contain my ecstacy Due bounds within, nor could control The glad emotions of my soul ; 'Twas almost pain the joy to bear, Of happiness so great my share. " My whole horizon beam'd so clear, Nor cloud of doubt, nor shade of fear Appeared, that might my prospects mar, Or, with joys present, rudely jar ? I doubted if in worlds of bliss, They happier were, than I in this ! " Man's spirits oft, when overwrought, With joy or grief, too deeply fraught, Revulsion suffer, and his thought Reaction strange, his spirits fall, 112 Emotions opposite enthral, And domineering soon erase, Of what late reign d, its every trace. But mine, although with joy o'erstrain'd, Their rapt'rous tenure still maintain'd, Or rather higher seem'd to soar, While I of joy still hop'd for more ; Nor paus'd to question, could it be That bliss so great was meant for ine ? " The bells their merriest peals have rung, Harp-strings been touch'd, and carols sung, Joys glad prelude now is past, And the hour approaches fast. Ready chariots at the gate, And well we know the priest must wait ; For dignified in his degree, And a punctual man is he ; And thus it comes that as his due, Expects he that all others too Should with a like exactness move, And, as the dial -plate, truthful prove. " But than the priest, are waiting those, Crowds, our neighbouring friends compose ; Mere peasants, others these may deem, But I, as friends, not less esteem; 113 Since my Grandsire their Grandsires know Their Fathers with ray Father grew, And joy they still in all befalls The denizens of Rossale's halls. And now, on every grassy mound, Assembl'd throngs are seen around ; O'er the lawn the crowds dispread, Alongst the avenue they tread ; While here and there at distance stands Still younger groups in smiling bands. To these it seems as time mov'd slow, While there they wait our path to strew ; Flowers to scatter o'er the ground, The youths and maidens wait around. " But, young or old, they all are there, The shepherd's and the yeoman's heir, And all who interest feign or feel In Rossale's line, in Rossale's weal ; And now, assembl'd, crowd the view, While each attention giving due, Lest they the spectacle should miss Of Fortune's favourites thron'd in bliss. " That morn I had not Edward seen, Nor I the cause surmis'd, I ween. Like a full ship was then my thought, With my own joy so deeply frought, 114 And hopes of happiness in store, Save this, nor room had I for more. " Besides I knew or deem'd so well, My Edward was with Arabell ; But would, as we'd agreed, appear As drew the time appointed near. " But the moments now we number, And impatience wakes from slumber ; And that which had in secret grown Its discontent now 'gins to own. " Hence in every breast arises Doubts and fears and strange surmises ; Surmises strange in every breast Wondering every wedding guest. Each his neighbour whispering near, 1 Strange, neither friend nor fair are here. Say what occasions this delay ? The parties chief, why absent they ? Why Rossale lonely in his place, While vacant that his friends should grace ? Time speeds his flight, e'en now 'tis late, Why do we still expecting wait ?' This means, interpret'd, the sound Now circling the assembly round. 115 " From doubts and fears exempt alone, Though I impatience, too, might own, I question'd not the how or why, Of what, perforce, induc'd a sigh ; For if on earth place trust we may, Mine where repos'd might firmly stay. u But now, aroused, I mark the gloom Appears to darken round the room ; But, listen ! Let impatience stay, Nor vainly surmise why delay. Hark ! there are footsteps on the stair ! Sure there they come, my Friend and Fair ! But no ; our patience yet is stay'd, Though enters now that gentle maid, My Arabell, of spotless fame, Her brow suffus'd with maiden shame ; Attended by her virgin band, As sattelites that round her stand Move, as she moves in order due, And, with like motion, her's pursue. " As purity and meekness might, Personifi'd, so greet the sight, Thus did my sister meet the view, While yet her ever- varying hue, As joy or fear alternate sway'd, Emotions wish'd conceal'd, betrayed. 116 " While, daring scarce to look around, Her orbits modest seek the ground ; Or, if uprais'd, are soon withdrawn, As might, surpris'd, some timid fawn, Had with Aurora crept abroad To hail the rising of her god ; Or on more homely purpose bent, To crop the herbage, dew besprent ; So startl'd might avert her eye, When heard approaching footsteps nigh, One look she steals, then 'gins to fly. " With what my Arabell compare I know not, so celestial fair She then appear'd, while darkly flow Her tresses round her neck of snow. We knew her but of mortal birth, Else had we deem'd her not of earth. So mildly pure and so serene, The Queen of Night alone, I ween, Might emblem be, or serve might well To picture forth my Arabell ; And we her Dian oft would name, Her gentle radiance to the same ; While ev'ry beauty, ev'ry grace, One charm that all transcends possess, A modesty that sweetly shows, Like as the dew-drops on the rose, 117 That veiling light with pearly screen, To beauty gives more lustrous sheen, A freshness to its ev'ry hue, And brightens, while it softens too. " But now my soul 'gins take alarm, Why absent still that brighter charm V At least, for me, what thus can stay Matilda Edmund ! where are they ? "Why should my sun to shine refuse ? Why, Edmund, patience thus abuse ? Who would have dreamt a laggard he On nuptial day would choose to be ? And strange it is, Matilda so Her influence o'er us, thus should show ; As knowing she supremely reign'd, And would her sway should be maintain'! . " For she'd forbade, in wayward mood, On her retirement any should For two hours' space dare to intrude ; At least her virgin train so say, When question'd as to this delay, Remind'd that it now is late, That all, save one, their presence wait. " Here must I pause ; arid yet, old friend, Since now commenc'd, my tale I'll end ; 118 Though I the smart endure once more, And all the anguish then I bore, Writhe 'neath the tortures then I felt, Have sear'd a heart they could not melt. " My heart to sear such griefs might well, Yet never could they tears compel ; And though they might have madness wrought, I yet am master of my thought ; And still uninjur'd is my brain, Though sometimes I may feel a strain ; But that alone when skies are bright, And sheds the sun refulgent light. " But to my tale : in wild dismay Too soon we learn why this delay. Her maidens state, two hours ago, Matilda dress'd in bridal show, In pride of youth and beauty's glow More like a princess or a queen, Or like an empress more I ween By partial fate design'd to reign, O'er some imperial domain A sceptre sway, in courts preside, That her attractions meant to hide ; In rural haunts, however fair, Charms with Juno's might compare ; But ere these charms they'd well survey'd, Swift from their gaxe retir'd the maid ; 119 From thair admiring gaze withdrew, This of her movements all they knew. "Save that her footsteps to and fro, Heard in her chamber moving slow, Or hurried for some moments, then Resume their languid pace again. Alternate thus, or swift or slow, Those steps they heard, move to and fro ; Such motions, as might prompt a brain With thought o'ertoil'd, or rack'd with pain. " They ceas'd, then heard the window ope, Above the garden's flow'ry slope Where the window, like a door, Open'd from the chamber floor, On a spot of vari'd bloom, With blossoms gay, rich with perfume. Thence, by an easy slow descent, A pathway through the parterre went, And, winding round the mossrose bed, In graceful curves still onward led, Where opening to surrounding fields, A little postern egress yields. " The window shut, they heard no more Those footsteps moving 'thwart the floor ; But wait they still, by her desire, 120 Until those two hours should expire. For she'd request'd, as a boon, That two hours lonely in her room She unmolest'd there might stay, And muse, ere she resign'd her sway, A nd self and freedom gave away. And thus they wait, as she'd desir'd, Until those hours were expir'd. " Patience exhausted can no more ; Then knocking at her chamber door, They seek an entrance to obtain ; But knocking, calling, all in vain. " ' Say why, capricious fair one why, Thus to our entrance leave deny ? Thy strange behest we have obey'd, Have patient for thy coming stay'd. The time elaps'd, it now is late ; Ye know they for our coming wait. Come, beauty, then, no more delay ! Why should they still our presence stay '?' " In vain they chide, ask how or why ? Dread silence the alone reply. And when at length they entrance gain, A silence dread they yet maintain, As, lost in wonder and amaze, 121 Around the room they startl'd gaze. For of Matilda not a trace, Nor e'en a vestige, yields the place To indicate that here she'd been, Or whether she had gone, I ween. " Swift by the slope they then descend, Their way through devious footpaths wend ; The garden wander o'er and o'er, And all its verdant haunts explore. In vain they search each leafy bower, Where'er might hide their cherish'd flower ; With words endearing call in vain, Save echo, answers nought again. " Return, ye maids, your search give o'er J Her voice shall greet your ears no more ; Nor unperceiv'd till by your side, Her footsteps as a sylphide's glide. " That faultless form, that beaut'ous face, Those motions, attitudes of grace, And myriad charms so dazzling bright, No more shall strike the 'raptur'd sight That can but look, yet fears to gaze On beauty's too resplendent blaze, Those vaunt'd charms, the valley's boast, To Rossale are for ever lost. 122 " Return, ye maids ! nor linger there ! Gone is the peerless and the fair. Your sorrow what to my despair ? Yes, ye may weep, your tears may flow But, ah ! that grief ye cannot know, That scorches all within and sears, That seeks nor finds relief in tears. PART FIFTH. " Thus far I've told ; but now your ear I'd have you seal, nor farther hear ; But if to list thou still wilt choose, Belief, old man, at least, refuse. For Truth's, for Honour's sake, I plead, Nor credit give my words nor heed. For sure 'twere better to suppose, I on thy credence would impose ; And as I give my tale no date, A fabrication I relate Alike foundationless and base, A slander on our common race ; And but a vile impostor I, 123 Skill'd only how to coin a lie. Far better reason thus, or deem My story but a maniac's dream, Than to receive my words as true ; For if so guilty found were two Of all mankind appearing best What might ye not deem of the rest ? And thus with vile suspicion curst, Henceforth thy brother fear to trust, Lest he should prove as false as they, As these thy dearest hopes betray. " Yea, though descending from the sky, An angel's form ye should descry ; The purple vesture flowing seen, And luminous with golden sheen ; The dazzling pinions spreading wide, And charms seraphic these beside, Were baseness, but designed to screen, To veil, where treachery lurk'd unseen, To hide where falsehood closely prest, Hung nestling to that seraph's breast. " Yet why shouldst thou distrust my tale ? What can thy doubts 'gainst truth avail ? And thus, perforce, thou must believe, Nor I impose, nor would deceive. E'en when I tell He, lov'd the most 124 Of all my friends the pride and boast E'en he, as my own soul endear'd, My Edmund too had disappear'd ; But ask me not the how or whither, Tis prov'd to well they went together. " Had I uninterested been, To scrutinize that altered scene, Amusement might have yielded strange, For ne'er beheld more sudden change : Joy startl'd with his wings outspread, The festival at once swift fled, While drooping Mirth along he bore, And Hope, that could deceive no more. " Disorder leaving in their place That they had been remain'd no trace, Confusion only in my hall, As consternation siez'd had all ; Questioning each the how and whither, Replying still they went together. " This information all we gain, Nor diligence can more obtain, Than that the pair together sped, None knowing whither they had fled Not even he, beheld them last, 125 As through the postern gate they past At least no more the burly clown The pair had thus descried would own ; If more he knew, he well could feign, For we of him no more could gain, Than he the pair had seen together, But where they went, he knew not whither Perhaps a bribe his lips had seal'd, For he than this no more reveal'd. " How felt I, ask you, friend, the while, While round me rag'd the wild turmoil ? As one arous'd from sleep profound By some rude harshly utter'd sound, Looks startl'd up, at first, nor deems If jet he wakes, or still but dreams ; Thus gaz'd I round with thoughts confused, As every sense had been abus'd, And tri'd with labours vain to deem The whole a wild and hideous dream. " How could I the suggestion bear, How could to comprehend it dare ; That he I'd trust'd, lov'd so well, As false had prov'd as fiends of hell. Not even he, deceitful more, A garment form'd of light who wore, And thus o'erdazzl'd Eve's sight, 126 Decoy'd our parent from the right, And lur'd to taste with honey 'd tongue. Forbidden fruits around her hung Than he, that faithless recreant one, Nor this the worst was he alone ? " Could I erase it from my mind, Who with him in treachery join'd ; His partner who, in this his flight, Matilda ! She my life, my light ! Ah, this, old man, the o'erwhelming thought, With thousand, thousand horrors fraught Burning, maddening, in my brain, Though outward calmness I maintain. " Yes, even then I calm appear'd, When seem'd my very heart was sear'd, Nor ruffl'd seem'd in voice or tone, As I unhurt had been alone. For if indomitable pride Or virtue, I shall not decide, But I to others scorn'd to show, How deep, how keenly felt the blow. " For I disdain'd vain war to wage, To like a maniac fume and rage, In bootless tears to seek relief, Or idly spend in words my grief, 127 As weakly as a woman might ; Within my bosom was the fight, But not the less the conflict there, That hidden all was my despair, That neither friend nor foe might guess, Or gauge my depth of wretchedness. " Yes ; and I've e'en, with artful guile, My face compell'd to wear a smile, 'Though anguish torn my heart the while,- In festal mirth appear'd to share, As others seeming free of care ; And even when most deeply pain'd, From these have admiration gained, For the gay mirth I lent their cheer, When all within was dark and drear, From the bright surface different far, W r here fiercely rag'd intestine war, And passions that tumultuous swell, E'en while the tongue declares all well. And when some marvelling would express Their wonder at my cheerfulness, I yet the more to raise surprise, Assum'd a yet more sportive guize ; And to amuse would coin such rhyme, As best might suit the mood or time. 128 " ' Why I'm cheerful, you wonder express. Since of all I'm bereft and alone ; But say, would it assuage my distress, For each word should I utter a groan y ' 'Tis true, those most lov'd have depart'd, While others so sadly are chang'd, That even the dead firmer heart'd I could view, than those faces estrang'd. ' But 'though lonely I thus must remain, Must I act as my heart ever rung ? No ! My friends in the old I shall claim My companions in all who are young. ' And though there are moments of sadness, When for these I must fully atone ; Yet should I o'ershadow your gladness With those griefs that are wholly my own y ' No ; be merry, and let the laugh ring, While I seem in the joy to have part, 'Though that instant should rankle the sting The corroder that festers my heart. ' Yes, I'll seem to have joy while I've breath, Still be cheerful and jocund in air, '129 'Though beneath should he lurking grim Death, With his brother companion Despair. * Still those round me shall say, as they've said ' See, how happy our young friend appears !' Though Sorrow her mildew then shed, And my grief too o'erwhelming for tears.' " But, ah ! old man, 'twas falsehood all, And could I now the time recall, And were as then, so sunk in gloom, I would not such disguise assume The offspring of a stubborn pride, Griefs agony, resolv'd to hide. " At least, I've often thought since then, 'Twas useless effort thus to feign, And but the more increased my woe, That I Griefs ensigns none would show ; " For 'though the sympathising tear Avails us not, when grief severe When sorrow's waves tumultuous roll, And threaten to submerge the soul ; Yet man, not form'd to stand alone, With double share must sure atone, Who wilful, sympathy repels, And thus, 'gainst Nature's laws rebels ; 130 And must we sing, despite our pain, Congenial more, were this the strain : " ' We may look on the dead When the spirit is fled, With hope, 'though we cease not to mouru r That the mansion at rest Its late tenant is blest, 'Though back it can never return. ' But when we discover, In friend or in lover, All false, that we deem'd had been true That we must dissever, What seem'd formed forever, How bitter the parting adieu ! ' E'en, though they deceiv'd us, Have wounded and griev'd us, We think of them still with regret; Once impress'd on the mind, We too surely shall find, That the past we can never forget.' " OLD MAN. " 'Tis but a trivial lay I ween ; It seems, young friend, if there I'd been, And your permission had obtain'd, When access to your ear I'd gain'd, 131 1 could have urg'd upon your thought A strain with more of meaning fraught At least, more suited to the time If right the sense, excuse the rhyme : " ' 0, Sorrow relentless, how heavy The portion my fate is to bear I While Grief, her wings spreading, broods o'er me, To waken remembrance her care. ' Yet why of thy votaries alone, Thy vigils dry-e/d must I keep ? Denied of the wretched the solace, The balm of heart's anguish to weep. ' Let me weep then, Sorrow ! 'though tears Are bootless, what lost to retrieve ; Yet their coralline cells why desert ? Why parch'd thus their reservoirs leave ? ' Let me weep then, Sorrow ! my tears Recall, to their fountains restore ; Let their sluice-gates still open remain, While brimful their channels run o'er. ' Let me weep ! for causes I've many, Why tears from my eyes should descend ; Of my heart's dearest treasures bereft, My love false, a traitor my friend ! 132 ' Let me weep ! she deceitful should prove, Had appear'd as perfection refin'd. Alas, an exterior so bright Should clothe so perfidious a mind ! ' Let me weep ! for the treachery fraud, Of one more than a brother I'd deein'd, A model for mankind to study, As more than ought mortal esteem'd. ' Let me weep ! while conscience reminds me, If fault their's, the error was mine ; My love as a goddess ador'd, My soul I gave up at her shrine. ' Let me weep ! I so firmlv relied, In man plac'd implicit my trust ; And forgot he so richly endow'd, Was yet but a child of the dust. ' Let me weep ! I apportion'd my heart, So large of those idols the share ; In remembrance my God had no place, Now he leaves me alone to Despair. Let me weep ! while contrite deploring My errors the sorrows they've brought , A place I insanely denied Him, Who claims first in soul, heart, and thought. 133 ' Let me weep ! those holy words scanning, Their meaning I try to discern ; ' Ye wanderers return who have stray'd, And I also to you will return I ' 4 T^t me weep ! the soft influence I feel, These tears are the droppings of joy ; Forgiven ! forgiving, how blest ! Nought henceforth my peace can destroy/ " STRANGER. " In pity stay thy dirge of tears, Puerile the rhapsody appears To me, in weeping little skill'd ; Thy rhyme with rheumy moisture fill'd, Sounds as a song of nothingness ; And what imports, perhaps, not less The sentiments you would impress, No more are mine, if once possess'd. And for forgiveness let it rest,. Since I the very name detest. PART SIXTH. " But she who pure as Dian beam'd, Say of her fate what have ye deem'd ? Alas ! disguise it as we will, Griefs selfish in its nature still ; 134 And mine, so sudden was the blow, Less wonder if immers'd in woe ; I heedless were, another pin'd, And in the self-same grief was join'd. In sorrow that another shar'd, That e'en in anguish I was pair'd. The shaft let fly, had wounded two, My gentle sister, woe for you ! " Like as a plant on which some clown, With footsteps rude, hath trodden down Its leaflets, bruis'd and broken stem, And floweret like a tarnish'd gem ; Blight'd and soil'd and crush'd it lies, Nor ever may elastic rise ; But, stricken in its beauty's prime, Must wither'd on the ground decline. So, like a blighted flow'ret fell My modest, gentle Arabell. " And I look'd on and saw her die ; But sure 'twas in apathy. Those griefs, my own, so much my eare, That not a sigh had I to spare, Not e'en to her, I lov'd so well, My fond, my trusting Arabell. u Yet I remember on review. How pale, trasparent then her hue. 135 Save the one spot of deepest red That o'er her cheek at times dispread, Far brighter than the crimson blush That erst was wont her face to flush ; At bashful modesty's behest, By admiration closely prest. " I saw how beam'd those eyes of blue, That lustre shed through moistening dew ; For health, for earth itself too bright, As she were all compos'd of light. Ethereal more she verg'd to death, And fainter, feebler drew her breath. " I knew for me, repress'd the sigh, The smile assum'd, if I were by ; 'Though sought she not with stubborn pride, The sorrow slow consum'd to hide ; But sweetly, meekly bending low, Bow'd down submissive to the blow ; And still to self denied the while, To cheer me tried with pensive smile ; And still more fond and gentle grew As nearer to her end she drew. " And still, while yet her bosom heav'd, While yet the ear eould catch, she breath'd, Ascending from life's last retreat, Were heard those accents murmur'd sweet, 136 In softest whispers, faint and low ' 0, God, on those who wrong'd me so Look down in mercy. Let them live r And bless, as I in heart forgive ! Their erring footsteps backward lead, Nor let impenitence impede. solace thou my brother, Lord, Who only comfort canst afford. Give him to say, Thy will be done, Thou Great, thou Good, thou Mighty One !' One upward glance, the murmurs ceas'd, Her spirit from its bonds releas'd, From life's ills free'd, had heavenward flown, And I was left, but not alone. " For there were friends who sympathiz'd r And foes who came as friends disguis'd : Had envious seen ray prosperous state, And gloated o'er my alter'd fate. The feint I saw, but I disdain'd To notice that I knew they feign'd. Of others I too careless grown To reck if love or hate were shown ; Or if they hide, or if disclose, Mankind regard'd all as foes. " 'Twas then, old friend, 'though seems it strange r That not till then remark'd the change Had alter'd all within my view, 137 Or shadow'd with a sombre hue. So frightful even grown my halls, I could but loathe the very walls. Since not a single portrait there, But in the general change had share. On each appear'd a ghastly smile Of treachery here and there of guile. " Sometimes I struggl'd with my thought, And tried to deem in me was wrought The change pervading all I see ; But all in vain. How could it be ? When often as I raise my eyes, Beheld of all the alter'd guise. " But of all alter'd, 'bove the rest, That with the heaviest weight oppress'd, AVhich I descried within my halls, When gazing on its tapestried walls. It was a change I could not bear, And drove me almost to despair ! Since mine own ancestry, whose scowl Thus withering fell upon my soul. In short, old friend, there was no room Within the pile for ought but gloom ; For Cheerfulness had fled the place, Nor of her footsteps left a trace ; Nor was there e'en a nook to spare, Where Comfort could have solac'd there. 138 u And when beyond the eye survey 'd, I saw my fancy must have stray'd ; Or she herself the charm supplied, If ought attractive their descried. So close the gloom to all things clung, So dense the shadows o'er them hung. " The hills in distance lost in blue As night itself so dark their hue ; And where their summits part in cloud, Eternal mists appear to shroud ; While all the storms had there been nurst, Now from their confines wildly burst, And, speeding from each mountain brow, In eddying tempests fiercely blow. " Their spreading bases erst so gay, Where flocks and herds were wont to stray, Of all their scanty herbage reft, To all their naked wildness left With horrid forms appal the eye, Of ravines deep and rocks pil'd high. To gladden, there, no more is seen The thyme, or heathbell's purple sheen, To dye with amethyst the green ; Nor murmuring insects heard there more, The scented trefoil fluttering o'er, 139 The woods their leafy covering gone, No more in verdant splendours shone; The graceful foliage late had crown'd In part lies scatter'd o'er the ground. A few dried leaves discolour'd, sere, Sad remnant of the vanish'd year, Still quiver in the howling blast, That groans a requiem o'er the past. The boughs dismantl'd rudely tost, Their pride, their glory, beauty, lost. 44 The feather'd warblers, too, had left- Silent the grove, of song bereft. There echo, soft repeats no more Those sounds had charm'd the ear before. Those sounds, my soul was wont to thrill, The voice of melody is still. " And then the meadow, all so bare Of all the sweets had flourish'd there ; No blossom left on mead or field, To glad the eye, or fragrance yield. 'Twas sad to see those flow'rets lying, Drooping, faded, dead, and dying. The time I've seen I could have wept For those frail things, as o'er them swept Unpitying winds that rudely blow, Where wither'd beautv crush'd lies low. 140 " The streamlets, too believe me, friend, There was not one of all there wend, Of all, it seem'd, could beauty boast, That had not all that beauty lost. No more like silver streaks they stray, And permeate the meadows gay ; While heard as music sweet their song, As light they rippling rush along. No more within their margin keep ; But turbid, hoarsely onward sweep ; Dark as the Styx, their waters black ; While each disdains its wonted track, And far o'erflowing either bank, Leaves all beyond them moist and dank. No swallows there now wing their flight, No insects sport on pinions bright ; And 'though, as wont, the willows stoop, And bend their twiglets to the brook ; No more, adorn'd with graceful pride, Their tapering leaves the streamlets hide. And those light bridges spann'd them o'er, Gave pleasure to the eye before A tree stem careless o'er them thrown, With moss and grasses overgrown, Now naked to the view display d r Blacken'd by time, in part decay'd Dangerous to tread now shock the sight, With slime and mud disfigur'd quite. 141 " The River even chang'd was so, No more majestic, still, and slow Its current, as it wont to glide ; But if as fury charged its tide, In swift career it sweeps along, Impet'ous, rapid, fierce, and strong ; Then o'er the rocks opposing pours, And bellowing, like the ocean, roars ! " Those beetling crags, with frowning brow, Erst were sublime, are awful now ; And what of grandeur they could boast, Absorb'd in horror, wholly lost, As that gigantic body down Is forc'd, despite their threatening frown Down the dire chasm, dread and steep, Where Turmoil's minions never sleep, But in their slimy caverns, cold, Their revels with Distraction hold With such confusion as they may, Thundering, roaring, all the day^ Yet 'neath Night's reign appalling more, Than they in day had dar'd before. " But why each single change relate, When all had alter'd with my fate? Or if the landscape had possess 'd A beauty fled like all the rest ; 142 It had not left a single trace Or vestige of its former grace. " The view nigh drove me to despair An hour I had not linger'd there ; Could I an instant have forgot, Though chang'd, 'twas still my native spot ! " Nor how it is can I explain, But know, the links compose the chain, That serve us to that spot to bind, Are twisted so so close entwin'd With every fibre of the heart It effort strong requires to part ; Yea, 'though we know none left are there, Our weal or woe who heed or care, If we by adverse fate oppress'd, Or are by prosperous fortune blest. " So close to me this weakness clung, It seem'd as it with life had sprung ; And, being incorporate with my frame, Could only leave with life the same. Fierce was the struggle, but at last I from the strife victorious past, The place I could no longer bear My kinsmen live, and riot there." 143 PART SEVENTH. " But now, old friend, I pray draw near, And let me whisper in thine ear, For yet, I have not told thee all : Learn, there were those then in my hall Had plann'd to have me close eonfiu'd So generous kinsmen, and so kind ! " Pretence, it surely must have been, But 'though so alter'd all the scene Persist they still, they see no change, And e'en affect to think it strange I should, my vision then assail, Their sight defective thus to veil, Hint that disorder'd in my brain, I even border on insane ; And hence, in love's o'erflowing tide, They for my safety must provide. " Vile casuistry ! since well they know, I suffer but from sense of woe ! Vile casuistry ! since while they speak Love's language, they alone but seek How in their coils they may enthral By scheming even in my hall 144 How best to perpetrate the theft Of liberty, and have me reft Of what the meanest freely share The right to breathe in Freedom's air. Could self-deception further go, Than thus to deem they kindness show ? Yet I would hope they kindness meant But hateful to me so restraint. Confinement, with such horrors fraught.- Madness was even in the thought ; But I o'erheard them, as they plann'd Their meaning scrutiniz'd and scann'd. " Lawyers I saw physicians, too ; And, while they dreamt I nothing knew. Beheld the end they had in view The prospect frenzy so I deem'd, I left them, while they fondly schem'J, To wander where it suits me best. In motion only finding rest. And could I moving ever keep, My memory lull'd, sometimes might sleep ; But Nature tires, and sinks opprest, And I compell'd, perforce must rest. But, ah ! old friend, such rest as mine, I may not, seek not to define ; For then it is remembrance wakes, And round me rise those hideous shapes, 145 Those phantoms dreadful in array, Which language fails me to portray. " Cease, cease, old friend, your reasoning vain ! I've seen them, and shall see again. Sure as again shall come the night, Those forms shall crowd upon my sight. Sure as the moon shall climb the sky, Those ghastly shades shall meet my eye. Then why with reasoning wouldst assail ? Can reasoning 'gainst my sense prevail ? " How Nature can such conflicts bear, I sometimes marvel, as my share. So wearied, jaded, and perplext, Each day bequeathing ills the next, As in those polar regions drear, Accumulates from year to year, On sterile heights those wastes of snows So thus each day increasing grows My load of ills ; or if not so, They to my sense appear to grow. " But think not I such ills would bear, Each day to suffer new despair, If I to quit them, could so dare ; So urg'd as I, and tempted sore, To suffer once, nor suffer more ; 146 By fiends who indicate the way, And plent'ous means at hand display ; Their looks, their gestures, and their scowl, Might well appal the firmest soul. While point they out where waiting stands The bowl, upheld by shadowy hands. " I see those phantoms gaunt and grim, The potion, that o'erflows the brim, Of mix'd ingredients strangely made, In shadow dim descried and shade, Each queller sure of all the strife, And varied ills embitter life. They hold the chalice to my lip, And sadly press, at least to sip. " While others, gleaming weapons ply, And fierce to combat me defy. That strife to wage, the stake my breath, Which ending, leaves the victor death. " But where the spirit, say, the while ? I think, and startl'd, back recoil. " Then, then they triumph, when I shrink, Just verging on Destruction's brink ; And " Coward !" " Dastard !" hurl at me, Who will not, when I might, be free ! 147 " Dim prototypes ! my soul can spell, Thus shadow'd forth, your meaning well ; And ye so urgently assail, I know not but ye might prevail : Remember'd not that precept still, The one command, 'Thou shalt not kill !' " While yet a little nursling, I Grew 'neath a mother's watchful eye, The cherish'd object of her care, Her love, my happiness to share ; While yet in infancy, she died, Her precepts living yet abide, And lessons holy, oft conn'd o'er ; But 'though truth's impress all they bore, One deeper seem'd engraven still The one command ' Thou shalt not kill.' " Years many have elapsed since then, Life's third stage past, I rank with men, Have all endur'd, these may befall, Shame and disgrace, dishonour all : With saddening recollections fraught, And goaded nigh to madness thought, Have shudder'd, when the skies were bright, Shrunk, from the sun's refulgent light, Have seen his last receding ray Glad disappear, and close the day ; 148 'Though knew I horrors would assail, Soon as Night's shades again prevail ! And I worn out with sense of toil, Would wish that day once more might smile Of ills a change at least to gain, If not a respite to my pain. " Aye, look incredulous and smile, As I a maniac were the while, Whose thoughts fantastic things suggest, By idle fancies teas'd and vext : It is not so, old man, believe, And what my gain should I deceive ? " Alas ! as my vexations are, So real the foes that with me war Although as phantoms they appear, And glide as misty shadows drear ; They yet the very fiends of hell, In subtile force, those fiends excel ; And so affright, tease, and cajole, They nigh to frenzy drive my soul, And urge me with such strength and skill, While I have but one response still The one command ' Thou shalt not kill.' " This might suffice ; but skill'd to read Soul secrets, they but little heed 149 What man by utterance may confess, When know they well, that not the less Some passion there supremely reigns, Hostile to him, t' obey he feigns. Tig this, the pow'r to penetrate The inmost thoughts, gives them elate O'er me to triumph and inveigh, To my rejoinder, answer nay ; Nor I reply since that in sooth, Fiends as they are, they utter truth. " Thus I condemn'd must patient hear, While harsh their words grate on my ear. " ' Is this man's dignity and pride, His dastard spirit thus to hide Beneath religion's threadbare cloak ? No wonder demons seeing mock, And hearing jeer, when thus he tries E'en from himself truth to disguise, By some selection, partial made, Of Scripture, such as best may aid The end, at which alone he aims ; Then, for adherence, merit claims To this his favourite text, by rote Conn'd o'er and o'er, a cuckoo's note Still issuing from his craven throat ; While for the rest he little cares. Or bold to contradict them dares. 150 " But canst thou so thyself deceive ? Such subterfuge as true believe ; As that ye may, in things divine, A portion choose, and part resign ? The one command, ' Thou shalt not kill,' With emphasis repeated still : Say from thy lips sounds it not well, Who boldly daring to rebel, That passion harbours in thy breast, Receiv'd there as a favour'd guest, Of all like origin can boast, To Heaven's behest oppos'd the most ? Or is't, that this ye sacred deem ? But hold the rest in less esteem ? Are these not also words of Heaven, ' Forgive, if ye would be forgiv'n ?' " Ah ! there, old man, they hold me sure ! And I the taunt must thus endure, Since conscience whispers that in sooth, Fiends as they are, they utter truth ! " For 'though the penalty were mine, To prostrate bend 'fore Horror's shrine, Amid the regions drear of gloom ; While yet to aggravate my doom, Those there abide torment me here, And arm with terrors ev'ry fear ; 151 'Though tortur'd thus, convuls'd and pain'd, While yet I consciousness retain'd, Through countless ages should I live, I never, never could forgive ! " ' Unchristian ' and ' vindictive,' yes ; There are, their enemies can bless, With benefits heap coals of fire, And e'en for those who wrong'd, expire ; And I to these could altars raise, Bid Fame aloud proclaim their praise ! But such my nature, such my fate, I cannot, would I, emulate ; Nor practise ever deeds like those, Though pardon might I open foes ; But never the insidious guile Could with a Richard stab and smile ; While yet in Honour's garb array'd, Such woes entail upon my head. Nay, 'though before me now the foe, For pardon pleading, crouching low, How could I, should I, mercy show ? While memory wakes, my wrongs must live : I never, never can forgive !" OLD MAN. " Who thee deceiv'd 'neath Virtue's mask, To blame, 'twere no ard'ous task ; Yet that he penitence may know, 152 Be the worst fate desir'd thy foe. Why shouldst thou choose be doubly curst ? In friendship wrong'd, in vengeance nurst. Rancour and Malice, deathless Ire, Base offspring of a hideous sire ; Where these disastrously intrude, The soul soon reft of ev'ry good, Each virtue sees their presence fly, Or in succession lingering die. These the true fiends, disturb repose, These cherish'd, are thy direst foes. Then wouldst thou quiet should with thee dwell, Their flight command, nay e'en compel ; Or how thy peace hope to regain, Indulg'd the faelings of a Cain ? A fratricide from envy he, Say would the wretch less guilty be, Who would, he could, revenge pursue, And what he did, for vengeance do ? " And they their wrongs keep brooding o'er, Vindictive still, what lack they more ? Their rancour shows they want not will, But opportunity to kill. This only wanting to the deed, From murder's stain, say are they freed, 'Though not their hands in blood imbru'd, Who keep, till time shall serve their feud ? 153 Remember, 'though so great thy wrongs, Vengeance alone to Him belongs, Who, seeing with discerning eyes, The meed that Justice claims supplies. " From selfish motives e'en forbear, If thou e'en here wouldst comfort share. But if, to worlds beyond, thine eye Can grasp a dread futurity, If cherish'd hopes of heavenly bliss, Nor rancour, malice, bear in this. For know nor earth, but Heav'n must change, E'er there a place, expect, Revenge ! " The subject leave, say dost thou know The fate of those had wrong'd thee so ? Hast thou yet learnt where went the pair ? If living, canst thou tell me where ?" STRANGER. " What ! have I told my story o'er, And dost thou thankless press for more ? Art thou so curious in thy age ? Or did I wrong to deem thee sage ? Have I my soul so bootless pain'd, My feelings within bounds restrain'd, That thou would' st further still inquire, And in my bosom rouse the fire, Had seem'd quiescent or allay'd, 'Though slumbering, deathless, undecay'd ? 154 " Forbear ! when 'gins my breast to swell, My thoughts in chaos plung'd of hell ; Could'st thou the risen tempest swell ? Nor know I if they live or not, Their names I woxild from memory blot ; But know I, feel I, while I live, I never, never can forgive. " Then ask not farther, but Yorbear, Nor rouse the ashes of Despair ; Better the tempest's wrath invite Than kindling ire to rage excite. Once more I warn thee to forbear, Nor on my calm presuming dare. Wasted and worn as I appear, A young leaf prematurely sere, At times such strength and force is giv'n, It seems, as I could war with heav'n." OLD MAN. " Thy pardon, Stranger ; yet nor deem I wish prolong'd ungracious theme, Nor I inquisitive nor rude, Seek where thou wilt not to intrude ; Thou knowest the story of thy fate, Thy pleasure 'twas thus far relate, At thy discretion to reveal Then why not what thou would 'st conceal ? Unwitting, if I gave offence, 155 Nor I, 'neath sympathy's pretence, Would meanly prying dive below, Or seek, what sought conceal'd to know. " Then calm thy spirits, smooth thy tone, And mark how swiftly time has flown ; Remember'd, when commenc'd thy tale, The full-orb'd moon was seen to sail, Still, gliding on her way serene, Through worlds that seem'd to own her queen ; But now, 'though from the zenith far ; The sun rides high in Glory's car, And gilds the clouds around him lie As mounted in the eastern sky, He smiles upon advancing day, And kindly lends his cheering ray To smooth the frowns on Winter's brow, And transient grace at least bestow On him, who surly, cold, and chill, Ungracious is for favours still. 'Though now oblique he shoots his rays, Less fierce, if not less bright his blaze Yet still his beams have gladdening power, On pinions borne of morning hour. " Thy sight turn, Stranger, from the ground ; Look up, and gaze thee now around : What change to all his presence brings ! What radiance to the meanest things ! 156 How alter'd now appears the scene r Where o'er it strays his sunny sheen \ Permitting e'en a joy to taste This barren moor and dreary waste. See, icicles dissolve in tears ! See, from the ground how disappears The frosty net-work o'er it thrown, No more as adamantine stone So hard, to touch or tread is found, But humid, moist, and wet the ground As waxen mould, to all imprest, Now yielding offers up its breast. " But sure compassion must have slept, Or dotage sudden o'er me crept, That I should thee in parley hold, When thou art chill'd, benumb'd, and cold,- Stiffen'd thy limbs must surely be ; But come, restraint thrown off, with me. See, where my cottage lonely stands, Just where yon eminence commands ! More to the right, ah ! there they gleam- Its windows in the sunny beam ; Would 'twere a palace for thy sake ! But what it offers free partake, Its lowly roof and homely fare ; And welcome warm, I bid thee share, And sure a zest to simple cheer, Should welcome give, from heart sincere. 157 " Coine, then, and make my cot thy home I Nor comfortless thus wandering roam. Haste, Stranger, then, no more unknown, Nor for the coming night alone Beneath its shelter to reside, Long as thou wilt thou mayest abide ; And when thus domicil'd with me, To soothe, my pride and bliss shall be. " Yet deem not that to blame I cease, Vindictive passions foes to peace ; Adverse to Him who reigns above, Whose chiefest attribute is love ! Who foster these, I must condemn, Antagonists of God and men ; But victim thee of adverse fate, I More than blame, commiserate." STRANGER. " I thank thee, friend, but may not stay, Nor loiter longer on my way ; Thy cot is well or so may be And with thy wants may well agree : But rest thee, friend it suits not me, Coop'd up within such narrow space ; So circumscrib'd thy dwelling-place, Thou for thy peace too soon would learn, As even now ye might discern. I'm somewhat restless in my mind, 158 And hatred bear to all confin'd ; Since heard my generous kinsmen's plan Of bird, instead to cage a man. *' To me an aspect dreadful wears, Whate'er to prison semblance bears And thus I'd rather keep aloof From thy four walls and low-brow'd roof ; But, friend, I thank thee not the less, And did my blessing 'vail, would bless. " Material we, and grossly fram'd, Corporeal, we must be sustain'd ; But did things with my wish agree, The wilderness my home should be ; The sky my roof the earth my bed, With verdant carpet overspread ; Pillow'd my head on some grey stone, With moss and lichens overgrown Lull'd by the murmer of the rill, With loneliness companion still ; Would nature be content with this, It with oblivion were my bliss. " But Heav'n forbids it should be so, Crave vulgar wants in spite of woe ; Nor may we, if we would deny When Nature urgent asks supply, 159 When she complains, infring'd her laws, Although reluctant, I must pause ; And thus, when journeying on my way, Enter an inn I sometimes may. " It suits me well when pause I must, There sip my wine, and eat my crust, Since no assumptions there deceive, They ask not why I come or leave, Nor when I part pretend to grieve. " Their names, their designations shown, They mercenary none disown ; But publish to the world at large For every favour what they charge, No motives henceforth to disclaim, Or to conceal life's chiefest aim, One even tenure they pursue, One object still kept close in view To gain additions to their store, And multiply that gain'd before ; While instinct sure, and practised eye, Still point them those can best supply That ceaseless vacuum, which remains Still in desire, despite their gains. " Each traveller scann'd, full well they know r If rich or poor, and thus bestow 160 Attention with gradation due, To win the highest gold the clue. Not lacking this, no more delay Quickly they haste, and swift display Each tempting good, place in your view, Their favour, kindness, friendship, too ; Would that the world would thus so say, What for its friendship we must pay. " And thus, when nature importune, Craves 'urgent for her 'custom'd boon, Enter an inn I sometimes may, When journeying on my onward way ; But still more oft, my place of rest, Is on some grey stone's aged breast. " But now, farewell ! I feel the strain, And seeming tension in my brain ; 'Tis ever so when skies are bright, And sheds the sun refulgent light. And why ? Because remembrance brings, Wth those clear skies, a thousand things, With maddening recollections fraught, That nigh to frenzy drive my thought ; For such the morn, so full of bliss, Preceded horror's dread abyss. " Yet when of Night's dark shades I tire, It seems the dawn I then desire, 161 Exhausted, weary, and forlorn, I longing, glad would hail the morn 'Though comes it with annoyance fraught, And e'en that respite must be bought ; For then rejoicing in the light, The lark upsprings in spiral flight, And joyful pours those notes of glee, That worse than discord are to me. " The only time, my lids oppress'd, It seems might close, in slumber rest Is that the day and night between, Ere Cynthia rising, pale, serene, Deigns o'er the twilight to preside, Once deem'd more blest than all beside. But no, forsooth, this is the hour The nightingale begins to pour, In melting strains, her tale of woes, Then vain it were my eyes to close ; For who so dull as seek repose, 'Though weari'd, worn, when plaintive heard Its notes, that ' melancholy bird ? ' So thrilling, melting, warbl'd slow, Supreme in pathos and in woe ! " Sometimes, receding from the ear, The cadence sounds, and now more near The notes are heard, distinct and clear, 162 But sweet, 'though sadly, sounding all, Thrills through my heart each dying fall. Ah ! sure 'twas more than fancy's dream. Led the sweet Fabulist to deem, That ere transform'd she'd suffer'd wrong, And thus so plaintive, still her song. " Thus morning, noon, nor night affords, Nor rest nor peace to me accords, Each comfort mars in different way The morning, noon, the night, the day. " The lark, in spiral flight upborne, His song dissonance lends the morn. Advancing day more pains my sight, When sheds the sun refulgent light ; And then sad Philomela pours Her plaintive notes o'er evening hours. The night I But J o'er oft have told What horrors night's dark shades unfold, When spectres crowding round me press, And clasp me in their dread caress ; Their ghastly forms I see appear, Their voices dismal seem to hear ; " While raven's croak, and night owl's shriek, Discordant sound from every beak. The night owl's shriek and raven's croak, Re-echoing all have phantoms spoke. 163 " But why with repetitions vain, Should longer I, thine ear detain ? " Farewell, once more. My story's done, Long hours have sped since first begun ; And now, when told, say what avails ? 'Twill pass, as does a thousand tales. Soon it and I alike shall be, Shroud'd in dark Oblivion's sea; While this old, grey, and time-worn stone, With moss and lichens overgrown, A relic of the ages past, Shall our existence long outlast, Shall haply occupy this spot, When we and all pertains forgot. CEILIA AND NORA; THE WARNING. CEILIA AND NORA. NORA. '' Her friend to see no more is Ceilia glad ; She greets me thus, with eyes downcast and sad ? Say, is with thee the reign of Friendship o'er, And thus, my presence yields thee joy no more ? Is Ceilia to her Nora grown estrang'd ? Tell me, I pray thee, what has Ceilia chang'd ? The time I've seen, if part'd for a day, My absence mourn'd, impatient of delay ; With joy-wing'd steps thou'st run and rapid pace My glad return to hail, and fond embrace. Now, after severance long, we meet once more, Not one fond word hast thou for me in store, Nor e'en a look, that brightly beaming might, A welcome smile, mute signal of delight !" CEILIA. " As thou wert ever, still to Ceilia dear, Though smiles instead, her welcome is a tear." " Then, Ceilia, say, thy Nora bids thee tell What happen'd has since last exchang'd Farewell, 168 To cause thee grief, and thus o'ershade with gloom, As thou beheldst impending some dread doom, Such as in life, still threatening, to behold,^- Death, terror-arm'd, his ensigns wide unfold ? What thus has tarnish'd, say, thy beauty's glow ? Reigns palor now, where roses wont to blow. Say whence assum'd this drooping, pensive guise ? Why damp thy eye-lash, humid are thine eyes ? Why thus in melancholy's garb array'd, And veil'd thy form beneath her gloomy shade ?" "And why my cause of grief should I reveal, Since pity vain, where pity cannot heal ?" " I know, 'though 'tis not long since first I knew That ills there are, retir'd must keep from view, Deep-seat'd wounds, unseen, that inly bleed, Such are the woes from sense of guilt proceed. And ah ! the worst for these, the tortures know, That what endur'd, from their own acts have flow ; And thus assiduous try their pangs to hide, And as they may their agonies abide. But such to Ceilia never can be known, Since when thought hers that virtue might not own ? When deed she might not safely trust to fame, Through the whole world it loudly to proclaim ? 169 Assur'd, it never could recoil to streak, Or blush of shame diffuse o'er Ceilia's cheek. Then why reluctant art thou to express, Thy cause of grief, and author of distress ? " Long since I made division of my heart, And deem'd of thine received an equal part ; If so, permit me in thy griefs to share, And let me aid the painful load to bear ; Let me, at least, by sympathizing, feel If such thy woes as Friendship cannot heal ; And if another's hand impell'd the blow, The name of him who wrong'd, at least, let Nora kno\ " Learn there are ills, corroders of the heart, Besides those pangs a sense of guilt impart ; Slight Pity's power, beyond the reach of ought That sympathy can bring, although love-fraught, Each art she tries, had soft Compassion taught. But vain her skill, it impotent must prove, To soften or to soothe, far less remove, What must be borne, in silence sad by those Whom these afflict, the bosom's direst foes, That prey in secret, on the vitals feed, Of fell disease and death prolific seed ! Such are my ills conceal'd, and for the rest, 'Though e'en by Nora I so urgent prest, 170 I may not, cannot yield to her request. His name reveal, from whom receiv'd the blow,- My young hopes wither'd, laid thy Ceilia low." " Thou can'st not ! Wilt not, let my Ceilia say. Fearest thou thy secret, Nora would betray ? The vile suspicion from thy breast reject ! Friendship departs, when 'gin we to suspect." " Nor dream, I meant ray Nora so to Wrong, Nought with it link'd can to my thoughts belong. With Friendship's claims I gladly would comply, What couldst thou ask save this I would deny ? But he, Griefs cause, still dear to me his name, And shall my breath, like mildew, blight his fame ? No ; let my lips eternal silence close, Should I that name to obloquy expose ! But that apart, nought hinders else my tale ; Why pensive is my guise ? my cheek why pale ? Learn as the tendrils of the fitch or vine Around their props with earnest fondness twine, Nor severence bear so did my yet young heart Around another's twine, and now to part More strength than I possess requires, so strong The union form'd, although to cherish wrong, Since never can that heart, but alien be, And never its possessor, ought to me." 171 " The truth say, was he skilful to disguise ? Or did he feign ? or whence did it arise, Discover'd not until it was too late, With his could never be combin'd thy fate? " " Ah, sure he feign'd ; how could it other be? For more than words, his actions spoke him free. Like spaniel fond, to whom his master dear, And fawning still, thus was he ever near ; Still on my steps assiduous to attend, To act the part of lover and of friend, To urge, as fond petitioner, his plea, That when I stroll'd he might companion be ; Then would he lure, my footsteps onward lead ; I, charm'd the while, the distance little heed ; Through woody glades, along the rippling stream, While sped the time as in a blissful dream, As his full sounding voice, mellifluous, clear, To whispers soften'd, fill'd my raptur'd ear With dulcet sounds, 'twas ravishment to hear ! And could I be deceiv'd ? Ah ! surely no ! Then bright'd tints, all round appear'd to show, And Nature's self more radiantly to glow, And hush'd the gales more soft to wing their flight Through verdant leaves, that quiver'd with delight ; O'er fragrant flowers, then incense blew 172 Sweet odours wafting, as around they flew ; Appear'd the skies new glories to adorn, And bright the earth as on creation's morn. " Yet it might be the transports of my soul The colours lent, then o'er the landscape stole ; The brighten'd charms seem'd Nature to unfold, Grleam'd in our path, and ting'd the clouds with gold. For never tints like those the skies dispread, And never beauties such the earth display'd, As in those hours when with the lov'd I stray 'd. *' But yet to walk sometimes I would refuse, Then would he coin ingenious, fair excuse ; If in my home, he there might also stay, The leaves turn o'er, while I his favourites play , Or urge to sing, and then applaud the lay. Or if my choice to work, he read the while, And flight of time would sweetly thus beguile. Some simple boon, there claim as his reward, Some trifle crave, as proof of my regard ; Not much he sought, nor sought he oft in vain, That in his hand he mine might fond detain ; Or, while he prais'd the jet, my ringlets twine, Or give his gift amid the braids to shine. Some flow'ry gem, cull'd fresh from Nature's store, And pleas'd he seem'd when I his offering wore. " And oft such pleasure his, for how so prest, Could I deny, so simple his request, 173 And love meanwhile my bosom's cherish'd guest ? No false reserve I feign'd, but free bestow'd Whate'er might be by innocence allow'd, Whate'er might modest virgin grant unharm'd, Or Virtue's self, nor yet her fears alann'd. " Alas ! it was, in part, the reverence feign'd, His modest bearing, my affections gain'd ; Yet he appear'd as fond as mortal might, And in me center'd seemed his whole delight. But, ah ! he sure had studi'd ev'ry rule They learn who practice in Deception's school, And thus each feature tutor'd to deceive ; For, should ye doubting look, ye must believe That love is beaming in that large dark eye, And with such force that yours must fond reply. " Too soon he read with those soul-searching eyes, What I, nor power nor skill had to disguise. Too soon he saw my simple heart was won, Then ceas'd the insidious farce, the play was done. Too soon I learnt, the dream delusive o'er, What woes the future had for me in store. Too soon I learnt, 'twas pantomimic art, The part he playM, another had his heart ! NORA. ' And are there such, so basely can deceive ? Remorseless thus, a gentle bosom grieve. 174 But sure thy love he could not so contemn Without excuse, so skilful he to feign." '' No ! he of jealous doubts, at first, would 'plain- Of rivals speak the coinage of his brain ; For well he knew, my heart of his the slave, That for pretext such garbl'd tales he gave." NORA. " But when to thee, indeed, in honour pledg'd, And knowing false was all 'gainst thee alleg'd ; With all his art to break, how find pretence ? Or how to vex thee did he first commence ?" " Ah ! then it seem'd, as if by malice taught, He allegations strange against me brought ; I blush to tell, how long submissive I His 'haviour bore sought bootless to deny, While he of new, invented still supply. " Then would I weep, and tax my labour 'd thought, In wonder lost, what change so dire had wrought; For never dreamt I, that to break he aim'd, Or that his wrath, his choler all was feigned Myself deceived, I rather deem'd him so, 175 His passions mov'd by some insidious foe. Thus, to forbear long time 1 made my aim, And still had hopes the truant to relaim. But, ah ! he more unkind, and more insulting grew, As to forbear were to offend anew ! " He knew me tim'rous, shrinking, and afraid, Form'd only for the quiet domestic shade That there to spend the tenure of my days, Unknown to public censure, or its praise, My whole desire. My feelings keen he knew ; And, knowing all, knew how to wound me, too Reiterating still some harsh surmise, Noting my words and speech to satirize, And pointing me a mark for gazers' eyes. " Whate'er of melting fondness I'd display'd Whate'er in softest moments partial said Whate'er in him of confidence repos'd He in derision to the world disclos'd. Nay, baser still, he tri'd to taint my name, And on my cheek imprint the blush of shame. Ah ! Nora, say, how bear the killing thought Of charges then against thy Ceilia brought ? Nay, he dread maledictions at me swore, And called me THAT to name I would abhor ; Not vilest of our sex, in vilest den, Could more have been revil'd, by vilest men." 176 " And could thy love such ordeal undergo, The lover yet distinguish'd from the foe ? Had not my Ceilia told I'd not believe, Nor easy find it even to conceive, How in thy bosom love could yet dwell, Hadst thou been charm'd it might have broke the spell. " What I could he not have done as many more His base compeers, still practise o'er and o'er In quiet, who leave their victims to deplore, That credulous they ever lent an ear, Their dulcet strains or flattering tales to hear ; But he indignities must on thy head Heap up, and like a vile thing 'neath his footsteps tread ? " E'en had he wish'd to break the bonds that ti'd, Some gentler means he surely might have tri'd Ere sense and decency he thus defi'd." <( He doubtless might, but deem'd, the harsh secure, Nor reck'd what I, the victim, might endure." NORA. " Hadst thou no hint of baseness ? Was't not warn'd ?' ' 177 CEILIA. u Yes ; but refus'd to hear while I unharm'd So much enchain'd, that rather than believ'd, I'd deem'd the world and all therein deceiv'd ; If so the world, or those therein had made That he was vile an effort to persuade, " Nay, there was one who long had love profess'd, As by my side he knelt, these words address'd : " ' I speak not by report, I who thee tell, From childhood's years have known the false one well ; Then deem not I so fear a rival's name, As even his, with slander to defame. Then hear me, Ceilia ! hear when I attest Than he more worthless, subtle, and debas'd Are none ; nor deem I that of mortal mould, Within its bounds the world can viler hold. " ' In childhood's years, ill-tutor'd and ill-train'd, As caprice led, indulg'd or harsh restrain 'd, His stubborn temper obdurate became, For blows he little reck'd, and far less he for shame. " ' Persuasion he despis'd, reproof contemn'd, While contradiction but his ire inflam'd ; Head-strong, rebellious, perverse in his will, On evil bent his thoughts, his time, his skill ; 178 E'en in life's spring for none but self he car'd, And for sinister ends, had not his brother spar'd. " * A truant youth a wild and froward boy His aim it seem'd all weaker to destroy, And where he could no more, at least annoy ; Still with his growth the springing evils grew, And still he sought how mischief most to do. " ' Parental yoke, he slighted had before, But soon its semblance he no longer wore ; Companion to the worthless and the vile They countenanc'd, but could not more defile. " ' And then so barb'rous I'll not bid thee hear Nor with his deeds would choose to wound thine ear Suffice, that we, his compeers, from his presence fled, And on him look'd with mingl'd fear and dread ; For cruel in his sports, and savage in his play, If demons were, we deem'd him such as they ; And thus in haste forsook the village green, If his approach our trembling scout had seen. " ' No bird her young could rear for miles around, If, by his search, the nestlings could be found ; No warbler dare on verdant bow to sing, If he was near with arrow or with sling It was his joy could he transfix it so, 179 Or on the ground behold it fluttering low, As if it pleasure gave to see it lie, Its little frame convuls'd in agony. Nor these alone those seem'd he to regard With fondness more, all met the same award : His horses, dogs some time it seem'd his His hand tyrannic, yet refus'd to spare ; Whene'er his temper cross'd, he sullen gloom'd, His favourites late, to savage death he doom'd. " ' Thus pass'd his stormy youth, yet unredeem'd By ought, that might to partial eyes have seem'd A pledge the wild oats sown a fallow field Remain'd might yet a different harvest yield. " ' Mean, but not just not liberal, but profiwe ; He Fortune's gifts receiv'd but to abuse ; 'Mid Riot's sons free, careless might he spend ; But vain her hand the child of want extend No generous pity ever touch'd his heart. Of sycophants, indeed, he paid their art ; In flattery skill'd, who basely stoop'd so low, As aid the wretch of every good the foe ; But woe betide those might his will oppose, Thwarters all regard'd as his foes. As such, with ire relentlessly pursued, They skilful were, his vengeance could elude 180 For if, as every Vice him claim'd as slave, Vindictive still, he never yet forgave ! " ' Thus in our native wilds he, shunn'd and fear'd, Liv'd on, until he manhood's stage had near'd ; To cities then remov'd, and sought for prey, In differ'nt guise, and in a differ'nt way. " ' Aside his rude imperious manner laid, His form as Fashion dictates he array'd ; And for full triumph better to prepare, Alter'd his mien, his language, and his air. Those specious arts strove labouring to acquire, The simple fair so thoughtlessly admire ; His speech he smooth'd and modifi'd his tone, His accents tun'd to gentleness alone, Studied his gestures, attitude, and dress ; Nor vainly so ; such pains deserv'd success ! " ' For conquest arm'd, with bold and dauntless eyes, And skill to hide what 'neath the surface lies ; Now, 'round life's blossoms rich he flutters gay, And bends 'fore Beauty's shrine, in order to betray. In admiration lost would fain appear, And pours his praises in her ravish'd ear ; Or silent gazing, would be understood Her presence were his whole beatitude. 181 For adoration well he knows to feign, What arts t' assume that he may credence gain ; Until secure he's fix'd the insidious dart, To fester in the soul, and rankle in the heart. 0, then, be warn'd, 'though pure as angel's song Thy love may be, he only will thee wrong ! ' " These words I deem'd by jealousy inspir'd, And thus I spoke, by indignation fir'd, Arise ! begone I swift from my presence haste ; Nor here your time in bootless warning's waste I Go, vile asperser of the absent, go ! To those rehearse thy tales would seek to know What slanders may in malice have begun, From jealousy have sprung, and in what channels run. Go ! darkling-stabber ! coiner of base lies ! Know daylight made alone for Truth's clear eyes! Go ! seek concealment with the bat and owl, And to the shades of night in malice howl. Once more, begone ! nor longer loiter here, Nor more presume with me to interfere ; Careless of him, of others, and of thee, I'm yet unbound, unfetter 'd, and yet free ! But if decreed, I must on one decline, Be sure, I'd rather far be his, than thine.' 1 ceas'd, he from his kneeling posture rose, And ever since has rank'd amongst my foes." NORA. " But for the first, so base and so ingrate, Say lurks not in thy bosom scorn nor hate?" CEILIA. " No, from my heart of hearts I can forgive, Can bless him now, shall bless him while I live. To blame forbear, or if there blame must be, Say, let the heaviest portion fall to me, Since I in warning's spite refus'd to hear, Nor would believe there lurk'd a danger near. Insidious he, as the gay spotted snake, Its crest'd head uprears amidst the brake ; And I the bird, with fascinated eye, That hovering o'er approaches still more nigh, Until escape cut off, the fated bird must die. " Or might the case by simile be shown One still more apt, 'though it is threadbare grown, By frequent use, and even trite appears, By repetition through some thousand years. Thus to the moth I would myself compare, On painted pinions free to range in air ; In twilight hours to bask in Dian's rays. Its life is bliss, 'till seen a brighter blaze. Where burns the torch within' the haunts of men, Its aim henceforth an entrance how to gain. Poor silly thing ! enamour'd of the light, 183 How swift to ruin it speeds its onward flight, And fluttering round, what motions of delight, Now hovering o'er, and now it ventures near Coquets with peril, as yet untaught to fear, Till caught at length, the hapless insect dies, Or on the ground denuded, helpless lies. Singed its gay wings, all thoughts of flight are o'er ; Those pinions gone with which it wont to soar." " Its silver spotted-wings the moth might boast, And mourn, if it could grieve, those pinions lost ; But Ceilia's loss I'd rather deem a gain To grieve for such, were grief eure to profane, Since who would choose, what worthless to retain ? Had some brave youth thy love and friendship won, Open as the day, and beaming as the son Whose fearless front in virtue's cause was shown, A foe to Vice and her adherents known ; Wisdom's firm friend, companion of the wise, Whose generous soul sought only to devise Want's children how to succour and befriend, Raise the oppress'd, and warm their cause defend ; WTiile widows bless and orphans hail his name, And in the youth their sire and guardian claim ; Courageous for the right, had such defied Malignant foes, and for his country died ; And thou couldst say, ' In Glory's ranks he fell !' 184 ' In Duty's path he bade the world farewell !' Or stern Misfortune, with her iron hand, CompelFd, reluctant, from his native land To wander friendless on a foreign shore, Exil'd from that, his youthful footsteps bore ; Then might I join with thee his fate to mourn, And thee a maid, yet widowed and forlorn. With aching heart behold, and sad Regret, Since such thou never, never couldst forget. " But now, 'though I would soothe thy aching breast, And if I could thy sorrows hush to rest : Had I an opiate could relief bestow, To thee would haste, and with the gift endow ; Or willing lead thy feet to Lethe's stream ; Yet cannot I allow a cause for grief extreme." " Nature hath blest, nor Fortune been less kind, And every good to Nora have assign'd, Alluring charms that never fail to please, Health, competence, and peace, a mind at ease. Lov'd kindred, friends, fond brothers, and a sire. Could Nora wish for more or more desire ? But let her think, what ills I must sustain, 'Though choose I not of adverse fate to 'plain, Since I with every feeling all alive, Alone am left, with Destiny to strive. Ye know, no mother watch'd my cradle o'er ; 186 Alas ! she sank, e'en that brief space before. Thus early seem'd it as if Fortune frown'd, And foretaste gave of griefs yet more profound. No sister gentle, with her love-ton'd voice, Calls me to joy, or bids me to rejoice ; No father to his daughter points with pride, Powerful to protect, and skilful to provide ; No brother fond, with rapture hails my name, To shield from danger, or to guard my fame; Nor mother, sister, brother, sire, have I, Nor friend by blood on whom I could rely ; And yet my heart so large it could embrace Mankind the whole, and find for all a place, This to my race the general love I bear. But, ah ! for such my more peculiar care, What perils would I brave, what dangers would I dare ! " Nay, could it serve, I'd not recoil or shrink, E'en to the dregs life's bitterest cup to drink ; Nor from them back recoil, 'though ordeal dread, On burning ploughshares, it were their's to tread ; Nor then would seek, or more for guerdon claim, Than the proud swelling thought what suffer'd was for them." ' But what of the preferred could she compare ? Or is she than my Ceilia yet more fair ?" 186 CEIUA. " Ah ! had she been more beautiful or kind, Sometimes, it seems, I could have then resign'd His love so priz'd, beheld, nor yet repin'd, That he obey'd what seems Great Nature's law, That Beauty should attract, superior merit draw. But this a fond conceit may be alone, Since had her charms as noonday splendours shone, It so may be, I'd not those beauties seen, Or if beheld, had wish'd they had not been. But I have heard impartial lips declare, She is not as thy Ceilia half so fair ; And if she were, she is not so sincere. What matters it, she is than I more dear I Nor shall I envious at her lot repine, That he is her's, that never can be mine. may she prove as fond, as trusting be ; But never, never can she love like me; Nor feel that tenderness would swell ray breast, When I have thought, 'though blush I when express'd, That I for years, seclud'd and confin'd, Could cheerful live, the sweets of life resign'd ; With bread and water for my only fare, And not a friend my solitude to share. So I could think it would a bliss bestow, A sorrow soothe, or mitigate a woe. Some ill corroding root out from his breast, Or there implant a good, not jet possess'd. 187 How can I, then, those fond links disentwine ? Or how unmov'd what I so priz'd resign ?" " And may he not to her as thee capricious prove ? Such heart as his another soon may move." " I think not so ; since, if aright I'm told, She has what's prov'd the fickle e'en to hold, A mine of wealth, is worth her weight in gold. But should he change, what can it me avail ? My name forgot, my annals but a tale, For, Nora, know, it written is on high, In spring-tide wither'd, must thy Ceilia die." NORA. " I must believe of all is writ the doom, To fall in bud, in sere-leaf, or in bloom ; But if remote, or if it distant be, To none is shown, nor can be known to thee ; These superstitious fancies then discard, To Reason's dictates rather have regard. Own'd that thy love in devious track has stray 'd, Thy trust deceiv'd, thy confidence betray 'd, She bids thee henceforth follow Wisdom's train, And from the past, at least, experience gain, And cease to 'plain, and hopeless to deplore, Since what once gone, grief bootless to restore." 188 " Easy to say, to practise differ 'nt far ; We follow must, where our affections are. Like pilgrims, bound towards some lofty shrine, The steep ascent, the fond enthusiasts climb. See, on the summit, Hope appear to smile, And onwards press, regardless of the toil ; Still higher mount, until they've reach'd the spot, And paid their orisons within the destin'd grot. But when with fervour cool'd, they would descend, And down the steep, their eyes affrighted bend- Impossible, it seems, find footing there, They trembling look, to move scarce venture dare- But, from the brink, gaze wistful on the plain They fain would reach, but yet despair to gain. Thus I with love, it easy found to soar, But how descend, the fond delusion o'er ? Thus from the giddy height, I looking down, See in the ragged way dire horrors frown ; At distance thus, life's tranquil path I view, But never hope its tenor to pursue." " 'Tis but a fond conceit, let Ceilia try Before resolve, the difficult must fly ; 'Tis fancy magnifies our cause of fear, But firmly grasp, and it shall disappear. To hear these simple words, let Teilia deign, Nor let to soothe mv efforts all be vain : 189 " ' Still, still thy heart, my child, Nor let it flutter so ; How could'st thou bliss expect, In this, a world of woe ? Men's sons at best are frail, Uncertain as the blast : 'Tis here illusion all, And hopes which cannot last. ' Then mourn not so, my child, The shadow thou hast lost ; Nor let thy soul with grief Be thus tumult'ous toss'd. When few brief years are past, Twill all be as a dream ; Just in thy pathway plac'd, A dark and troubl'd stream. ' Too wide it seems to cross, Too deep appears to wade ; But forward plant thy foot, Thou'lt find it but a shade. Tis so with trials of earth, E'en those which seem most real- In fancy part have birth, Are more than half ideal. ' Then courage take, my child, And clear of gloom thy brow ! 190 As they will then appear, Thy griefs, look on them now. No more place trust in man, Who do but build on sand ; On such foundations rear'd, No castle long can stand. * Then heav'nward turn thine eye, And fix thy thoughts above There only hope is sure, And love is met by love. Then still thy heart, my child, Nor let it flutter so ; Nor bliss expect to find In this, a world of woe.'" *' Thanks, Nora, for the generous effort made. Such might suffice, my grief indeed a shade ; But, ah ! to all I only can rejoin, No power have I those links to disentwine, That fetter still, despite my reason, pride They from the world but serve alone to bide, But powerless prove to banish my regret, And vainly more, would teach me to forget." NOEA. " To simple thoughts I us'd, and language plain, Nor I familiar with romantic strain ; 191 What told I hear, and what beheld I see The literal must in each suffice for me. Thus from the tragic story of thy woes, No more I glean than what thy words disclose, That he so mourn'd was dissolute and vile, A base dissembler, and a man of guile Without one trait could character redeem, Or ought to merit, or to fix esteem. If so, insanity it surely were, On such as he a passing thought to spare. Then effort make from mem'ry swift discard, And let the Fates adjudge a just award ; Let punishment deserv'd upon him wait, Be pain'd his days, yet undeplor'd his fate ; While horrors in his soul remorse awake Let vengeance sure his footsteps overtake." CEILIA. " 0, thou Almighty One, the doom avert ! Thou see'st him now by folly, sin engirt ; Disperse the clouds, and dissipate the gloom, His soul enshrouds, and with thy light illume ; From fetters, self-indulgence wrought, set free, And lead his erring footsteps safely back to Thee. Mine was the fault to love a creature so, And 'though he gave, Thy hand impelled the blow Why should I then dare murmur or complain, Or others seek, in self-defence, to blame ? Since sure of guilt, no portion slight was mine, 192 To him I gave, what should of right been Thine The place Thou claim'st in every heart supreme ; Alas ! while loving him, all else was as a dream. " Now, as I bend with reverence 'fore Thy throne, Thus let me plead, In mercy, Lord, look down ! His faults forgive ! Thy grace divine impart ! And with Thy love subdue his stubborn heart. Give for defence the buckler and the shield, And teach him, Lord, those weapons how to wield I Or how shall he abide that hour the last, When memory rous'd, recals each error past ? Regrets, remorse, with conscience fiercely war, And judgment summons to Thy awful bar. " From every evil let Thy grace defend Let every blessing on his head descend ; Let days prolong'd be his with honour crown'd, And every good with mortals may be found 1 And when at length Death's icy hand shall chill, Be Thou his stay and firm supporter still ! Let angels with their harps suspended wait, To waft him safely through the storms of fate, And for his entrance ope the golden-hinged gate ! " NORA. " Since thou wilt have him blest, blest let him be, So my Ceilia's smiles again may see." 193 "And shall thy Ceilia smile again ? Ah, no ! E'en Time, physician surest deem'd, 'though slow, Must powerless prove to yield my woes relief, Nor can an opiate boast to sooth my grief. But yet I patient would my ills endure, Since, 'though time fails, there's yet effectual cure ; Nor can it distant be, my flickering breath I hail as presage of approaching death. " Does not my alter'd form attest the tale? See my pinch'd features, my complexion pale, Save where the crimson hectic burning glows, Deceitful flower, distemper's fatal rose 1 Or of my pulse, observe its quicken'd play, How fiery fever steals my strength away, 'Till o'er me fitful creeps the sudden chill, And seems pulse, heart, and life itself stood still. These the sensations with my grief I share ; But, ah ! the last, the heaviest far to bear. " But still, while life yet animates my breast, The name of him who wrong'd shall safely rest ; Nor even Nora may surmise or guess My sorrow's source, or author of distress ; Nor may the world dare venture to assign The cause, why in my day-spring wither'd, I decline. N 194 " But when life ceas'd, thy hapless friend at rest, My tale relate, the "name alone suppress'd ; A heacon it may prove, and warning be To others, thoughtless, trusting, fond as me. Some gentle bosom haply may save From sorrow, suffering, and an early grave. Some human blossom bursting into day, Perhaps preserve from premature decay, Should they my precepts list, in action these obey. " Then list, ye thoughtless ! From the verge of death, Ceilia for you, expends her dying breath ; Trust not in man ! 'though some are good and kind, In substance stead, ye may but semblance find ; For one ye meet firm, truthful, and sincere, Scores seeming so, alone would so appear ; But chief, ye artless young, and simple fair, Of friendships rash, I warn you to beware, They're for our sex a most insidious snare ! Not form'd half confidence to yield we must, Where we confide, soon place entire our trust. How few there are but will the trust abuse, Ah game unequal play'd, where we alone can lose ! " The vicious shun, e'en though in robes ornate They court thy gaze in pageantry of state, With mein alluring and majestic gait. 195 u What 'though the riches of Potosi's mine' Gild their array, or on their garments shine ; And splendours borrow'd from Golconda's store, Sparkle on their front, and gem those garments o'er ; Where gleams the topaz, dipt in glory's dye, And diamonds lustrous, dazzling strike the eye, Beneath there lies what most destructive be To every good, to happiness and thee. Ah ! what avails what these of polish show, Their thoughts debas'd, their actions mean and low ? Sordid in soul, to moral goodness blind, Fearless of God, regardless of mankind. " Of these beware, nor heed what round them thrown, Their wit profuse, nor pleasantry of tone The symmetry of form, the dignity of face Persuasive pow'rs permitted these to grace, What thus attractive on the surface seen ; Is like the quagmire's living tints of green, The eye delight'd sees the verdure spread, But sure unwary those, would there attempt to tread. " Or like their vices are, so garnish'd o'er, To the sunk reef that circles round the shore; Their arts deceptive like the dancing spray We see from far, where feathery breakers play. The sun irradiates with glowing beam, The iris gay is fitful seen to gleam, 196 And 'mid this surf her brilliant colours show, While softest gales seem there alone to blow, The Rocks are hid beneath the noonday tide, But wo befall the bark that ventures there to ride ! " Once more, I warn, when such as these draw near, And with smooth flatteries steal upon your ear, Be sure there danger lurks, then swift repel, Ere entrance gain'd, your veins the poison swell." NORA. " Thy voice, thy tone, too surely let me know How dearly bought what free thou would'st bestow ; Thy accents pierce my heart ; but, turn thine eyes, Hope yet may smile, and brighter days arise ; Nor Time contemn, since yet his silent wing To Ceilia may a thousand blessings bring." CEILIA. " Hush, Nora, hush, nor thus reiterate so, A hope I cannot feel nor seek to know ; Join in my prayer that Heaven may forgive And fit my soul in happier worlds to live But, ah I not here, thus sad, disconsolate, Why of my days desire prolong'd their date ? " But, come, my friend, the curtains back unfold, Let Nature's face my eyes once more behold 197 Seems as day's glories now about to part, A voice bad found, and response in ray heart. Ah, sure the words by Heaven announc'd, ' Haste, see, For soon shall all beheld, exist no more for thee ! ' Then let me bid adieu in farewell strain, From Ceilia's lips shall ne'er be heard again. " ' The sons of toil weary, have found the day dreary, For fierce was the sun ; But day now is ending, they homewards are wending, Their labours are done. Yet their doom no escaping, as soon as awaking, Again to renew, Though 'neath the sun melting, his beams unrelenting, Their task they pursue. ' Like them my toil ending, I homewards am wending Sweet rest I shall share ; But never the morning shall see me returning To labour or care. More soundly I'll slumber, unwoke by the thunder Or conflict of foes, Till on my ear falling, the last trumpet calling, Awake from repose. ' No more my breast heaving, while hopelessly grieving, My tears down shall fall, With Nature, her beauties, life's comforts and duties, I've done with them all. 198 Yet Nature enchanting, how oft my heart panting, Thy face has scann'd o'er. Once more would thy creature admire every feature Had charm'd her before. ' The hedges how bowery, the meadows how flowery, 'Tis Summer's gay prime ; The river swift rushing, the birds' music gushing, As with it to chime. The branches how verdant, with foliage dependent They bend to the stream ; The rooks high careering, their way homewards steering To some distant scene. ' The sun sinking slowly, all meekly and lowly, Has soften'd his blaze ; The western clouds streaming, in splendours bright [beaming, Have borrow'd his rays. Majestic and queenly, yet moving serenely, The pale orb of night, And still, as ascending, is closely attending Eve's star shining bright. ' But the flow of the river, the flower of the meadow, No more are for me ; The western clouds streaming, the moon palely beaming, No more I shall 199 For know I am dying, my breath faintly sighing Will soon be exhal'd- That chill o'er me stealing has numb'd every feeling In fortress assail'd, ' My heart scarce is beating, life slowly retreating Before the dread foe, Past time of probation, Lord, thy salvation In mercy bestow ; My weakness supporting, my thoughts all transporting With views of thy love, While resigning my breath I shall triumph o'er death, MY faith fix'd above. 4 While He interceding, and for my soul pleading, Who rose from the grave, My pillow hard smoothing, and all my fears soothing, Shall conquer and save From gross and terrestrial, and fit for celestial, My future abode Where Grief cometh never, but Happiness ever Dwelleth with God.' " My Ceilia's voice, soft as the brooklet's flow, So sweet the tone, so musical, yet low, Had sunk, till scarce the ear the cadence caught With melting pathos, 'though each accent fraught Then wholly ceas'd a pause, and then I hear Those parting words are now recorded here : 200 " Haste, Nora, haste, if Ceilia yet thy care, And let my drooping head thy bosom bear, For now before mine eyes dim shadows float, And all confus'd I feel my every thought ; Life's fluids appear arrested in their flow, Chill is my frame, and humid is my brow, Without an anchor sure, ah ! where were Ceilia now ? " 'Tis Death, I know this struggle is the last, joyous moment, life's troubles all are past. And he, the Mighty One, my sins who bore, Shall give my soul redeem'd, to joy for evermore ! ' On wings of love swift to my friend I flew, My circling arms around her neck I threw, Against my own her bosom close I prest, Her drooping head had on my shoulders rest, And thus her trembling frame sometime I bore ; The tremors ceas'd, life's dream for ever o'er. Then these my hands her form at length decline To death compelled what mortal to resign, While fall my tears, her faded form I view, And know I must, yet dread to bid adieu : Then o'er the jet the ashy lids I close, And sadly sighing leave her to repose. Alas, how chang'd from she, we proud had call'd ' our rose!' (12.) THE HEIR OF MISERY. THE HEIR OF MISERY. How many enter life as if alone to know Its depths of wretchedness and varied shades of woe Of obloquy, disgrace, and shame, the hapless heirs, Whate'er of good life yields, its direst ills are theirs. A man was born, but, ah, no mother's heart rejoic'd, Nor grief forgot in joy to hear her infant's voice, Ere then her ear had dull'd beneath the hand of death, And as her son inhal'd, she drew her parting breath. Much had she suffered, every ill had borne, Contumely, disgrace, contempt, reproach, and scorn ; A stricken blighted thing, amidst the world's turmoil, Bow'd by disease and want, and worn with ceaseless toil, Oft had her heart sunk sickened from its hope delay'd, While hunger's pangs relentless on her vitals prey'd 204 But, ah ! these but a prelude to the storm that burst Around her hapless head, when, humbl'd in the dust, She on her miserable pallet helpless lay, By agony convuls'd, and trembling with dismay. Dire wretchedness alone attendant by her bed, In Nature's trying hour of peril and of dread. Without one gentle voice, to calm her fears or sooth, Without one friendly hand, her pillow hard to smooth, Or wipe away the dew which agony had wrung From every pore, but from her forehead sprung In large clear drops, that to her shoulders swift make way, Where round her ebon locks, in matt'd tresses lay. Without a hope to cheer, or comfort to sustain, While torture tore her nerves, and anguish rack'd her brain. Without the aid the vilest then from pity claim, When pangs accumulated yet more shook her frame. While every pause between, regrets, remorse fill'd up, More bitter made the draught from woman's bitterest cup. She all endur'd till nature could sustain no more, But conquer'd left the field, for Death to triumph o'er. Still ranking with the young, can'st trace its relics there, In features pinch'd by want, and haggard with despair ? Not even she who oft her lullaby had sung, And o'er her infant's couch with kindling raptures hung. Could, as she pitying gaz'd on that sad scene of woe, Have ventur'd to surmise her daughter there lay low. 205 In dissipation sunk, her infant's guilty sire, More sullen far that sad his partner saw expire, And yet a transient pang his conscience sear'd might feel, When died, the patient sharer of his wo and weal, The last and only link that bound him to his kind, That when all else forsook, the closer round him twin'd. And Memory, once arous'd, present her to his view, As artless, fair, and graceful as when first he knew Ere he with eye of guile had mark'd her for his prey, And from her peaceful home had lur'd her far away, 'Mid alien scenes of vice to wither, droop, and pine ; At first to shrink instinctive from the view of crime, 'Till all of virtue lost, at length she sank supine ; Transform'd in feelings all, she yet was true to one, A love unchang'd to him, who first her love had won, In him, she would not see, the wretch who had undone. 'Though callous, this he knew, remember'd when too late, One tear remorse compelFd, a tribute to her fate ; While sober'd by the stroke he backward turns his eyes, And sees, with rising horror, and with new surprise, Distinct, of many a deed, 'till then forgot the trace, How deeply guilt has stain'd the annals of his race, The downward path of vice how swift his feet have trode How crime's increasing progeny have strew'd the road, Until the dire retrospect his soul alarm'd appals ; But, ah ! short liv'd regret a boon companion calls ; 206 The jeer, the revel, and the bowl his coming wait His conscience still'd again, once more he mocks at fate, As jollity and crime assign'd an endless date. For guilt, if ought hut penitence its course impede, But rushes headlong onwards with redoubl'd speed. A wither'd crone, whose days in infamy had run, To her the guilty sire consigns his hapless son. Ill-fated babe ! How oft unheed'd dids't thou weep How sob thy little heart, and wail thyself to sleep ? No gently murmur 'd song e'er lull'd thine ear to rest ; No fond one prest thy cheek, reposing on her breast ; No parent's tender care watch'd o'er thy infant years Smil'd on thy joys, and tranquilized thy fears Dispell'd the transient grief, and kiss'd away thy tears. E'en at that age when happier babes enjoy Life's choicest blessings pure, unmingl'd with alloy ; When mirth, and sport, and play, their hours alone employ, As the young dovelings in their nest, so free from care, When everything around seems as their bosoms fair. Alas ! these hours with thee in wretchedness were spent, Thyplaintive cry, thy ceaseless wail, thymournful plaint, Proclaim'd distress, in more than language eloquent. Thy period brief of peace, when weari'd, in repose, Thy eyes were seal'd, but ah, short interval of woes, Since recommenc'd thy ills, soon as thy lids unclose. 207 Buried in dingy alleys, desolate profound, Where squalor, want, and guilt, with wretchedness abound ; The last retreat of penury, distress, and crime, Where various vices meet as in congenial clime ; Where ruin'd dwellings clustering stand in rows, Where hreeze-inspiring health and vigour never blows, Scarce caught a partial glimpse of heaven's blue serene, So close the structures stand, so dense the smoke between. These tenements have seen vicissitudes most strange, And prove the illimitable power of Time to change For each was once of opulence the chosen seat, Where now earth's lowest ones alone will seek retreat. Broad streets, new squares and palaces, have spread around, Since these now mould'ring walls arose above the ground ; But years have sped since wealth and splendour fled the place, And left their ruined abodes to penury and distress, To Dissipation's sons, and daughters of Disgrace. In that low smoky cell, where winds the creaking stair, 'Twas there was nurtur'd Misery's fated heir ; Fair as the primal dawning of the first young morn, Sweet beam'd his infant features when the babe was bom, As symmetry so exquisite, his little frame, But, ah 1 too soon to mar, Want, cruel spoiler, came His beauty swiftly fled keen hunger's touch before, 208 And soon no vestige left, to tell what grace once wore. Nor yet her hand alone of loveliness despoil'd, To stint his springing growth successfully she toil'd, That soon nor aught could boast of symmetry or grace ; While harshness on his temper left its deep impress. Stern frowns repress'd his glee, the fond embrace repell'd, And rising flow of tenderness for ever quell'd. The pleasures, pastimes all, his hapless childhood knew, Uncheck'd to mingle with the alley's vagrant crew ; With them his course of education first began ; That still progression made as he advanced to man, In daring pranks of mischief learnt with them to vie, To pilfer cunningly, to tell adroit the lie, And 'though detected, boldly still the charge deny. His understanding bright, his powers observing keen, What might not such a youth, with proper care have been? Since emulation still his panting bosom fir'd, Ambition to excel his actions all inspir'd ; In skill to plan, in bold temerity to dare, In stubborn fortitude the brunt of all to bear, He without rival reign'd amidst the lawless crew ; Soon those at first had led, at distance but pursue, And own as leader him who genius such display'd, As 'neath another star a statesman bold had made. 209 Thus others he excelled, but, ah ! it was in crime, A dauntless brutal ruffian ere his manhood's prime ; Unbridled appetites that never knew control, And passions fiercely rag'd tumult'ous in his soul. That still as gratified, increasing force acquire, And urge to deeper guilt with every new desire ; Still in the lowest depths, it seem'd, he lower found, Until crime's limits reach'd, and gained its utmost bound, When 'though his outward form man's semblance yet re tain 'd, The brutal tribes beneath, o'er all, the sensual reign'd. At length the laws, so oft infring'd, their victim claim Laws, that the rebel never knew, except in name. Before the Judge the criminal now stands, With wild ferocious look, stern eye, and folded hands, Not Guilty, pleads, but, ah ! no more the ready lie avails, Too powerful evidence the feeble plea assails. Yet, while the Court is hush'd to stillness so profound, That not a single pin unmark'd could reach the ground, He only seems unmov'd, and careless looks around Unshrinking hears pronounc'd the awful sentence dread, Proclaims his brief career of guilt and crime have sped. In solemn terms the judge to penitence would call ; But, ah ! the accents strange on ears regardless fall. Punished for what he never had been taught to shun, He adverse fortune blames, but not the evil done. 210 Detests the doom, but not the crime for which he dies ; Nor in his soul does one compunctious feeling rise, Convinc'd that all the evil in detection lies. With desperation's firmness, and conceal'd despair, He meets the doom by law assign'd to Misery's Heir ; And obdurate to the last, 'though clear as noon-day his offence, He with his latest breath, proclaims his innocence. While round the scaffold press the rabble's thoughtless throng, And hear his dying words, as minstrel's idle song. Ye unreflecting herd, that crowd the dismal scene, From human anguish, say, what pleasure can ye glean ? Ah ! hush your rude comments on what he did or said, If much he err'd, to man the penalty is paid. Repress your scorn, to censure cease, to judge forbear, Let Misery's child at length oblivion share ! Ye will not let him rest ! Nay, then pursue your tale, Until your tastes deprav'd, yet newer horrors hail ! Yet, 'though ye will not for my words, his mem'ry spare, Thus let me homewards urge, while ye your wrath forbear. Ye say that he was guilty, and deserv'd to die ! Yet blush, if shame can touch, to hear the reason why. Was't not because instruction never met his ear, 211 Nor voice of kindness reach'd him through his whole career? Who taught to be sincere ? Who train'd to truth his tongue? As life, to love the right as death, to dread the wrong ? Who pointed to his feet the straight and narrow road, That leads alone to heav'n, happiness, and God ? Neglected thus, wonder ye he fell to Vice a prey? More wond'rous had it been had he not gone astray. To snatch him from Destruction's whelming wave, Point to the friendly hand was stretch'd to save ? Alas 1 'tis known, false Virtue's sons pass'd careless by, And saw him hurrying onwards, with unpitying eye 1 Ye mothers blest, amidst your social joys enthron'd ! Who see your smiling babes your peaceful hearth sur- round, List to their notes of glee, behold each dimpled face, Or clasp your cherish'd cherubs in a fond embrace Think of the hapless babes, no mother's love that share, And from amidst your joys a sigh of pity spare. And ye, ye childless ones, with opulence supplied, Whose every wish but one, kind heaven has satisfied Oh, pity those who suffer from unearn'd distress, Strangers to love, who ne'er receiv'd the fond caress ; Were ne'er by kindness sooth'd, or voice of tenderness ! Let soft compassion touch, and think how dire the fate, The thousand, thousand ills on Misery's sons that wait. 212 And take some little nursling to your tender care, At least one victim save from ruin and despair. And ye whose temperature with fierce assaults ne'er urge To tempt the steep of vice, or near its giddy verge Easy for you with self-complacency to preach Wafted by Fortune's gales beyond temptation's reach, Ah, think, ere Misery's sons so harshly ye impeach ! And ye who want have never felt or penury known, For whom the sweets of life appear to bloom alone Ye nurslings fond of love, ye favour'd ones of earth, Fondlings on whom Prosperity has srail'dfrom birth ; Think of the many forlorn, neglected, desolate, And give, if give ye can, their case to 'meliorate ; Think that one luxury spar'd, to many might restore The vigour health, and peace deem'd gone for evermore. Think of the many conquer'd in the world's rude strife, Who shelter seek amid the darkling haunts of life, Where vice unfetter'd reigns and fearless spreads her snare, And pity those misfortune drove for shelter there. Yes ! there are those who even there now pine, To whom no better sun appears for them to shine. They fell, nor more could rise, scar'd by the world's stern frown, And shelter seeking there, in hopelessness sank down. 213 Now round Despair's dark, curtains are so closely drawn, That though the night they fear, they yet more dread the dawn. Oh, think of these, and, while you censure, pity more In sorrowing mildness blame, their hapless fate deplore ; Their lapse with mercy view, and think ere ye condemn ; And try of one at least, the downward course to stem, And happy be your meed, if one ye can reclaim ! SAPPHO. SAPPHO. In days of yore, when Sappho sung Mellifluous lays with honey'd tongue, In strains that might have Zero warm'd, Or conclave of the gods have charm'd ; When sweet her fingers swept the lyre, Or led the first in virgin choir 'Mid myrtle groves and citron bowers, Joy wing'd her days, mirth sped her hours ; But all these pleasures bade farewell Soon as her eyes on Phaon fell For, ah, she fail'd his heart to move, Whose love alone she sought to prove. With Sappho's strains, the then world rung, Enamour'd swains her praises sung. Her beauty more than mortal seem'd, Her eyes like rival lustres gleam'd. In short, her charms 'twere vain to trace, Like Juno's self in form and face ; 218 Like her's, the soft and flowing hair, Majestic mein and noble air Nor than that goddess she less blest Ere dream of love disturb'd her rest For, ah, she fail'd his heart to move Whose love alone she sought to prove ! Love's every stratagem was tried To draw the wanderer to her side ; The frown assum'd, she feign'd disdain, Sighs, smiles, and tears, and smiles again ; Soft blandishments, the fond caress Those shadows vain, vain mortals bless, Oblations on the altar laid, And offerings rich profusely spread ; But vainly all love's rites were paid, They would or could not Sappho aid. All fail'd, alas ! his heart to move Whose love alone she sought to prove 1 To Venus then she prayer preferr'd, And fancy whisper 'd she was heard ; In Fancy's sweet delusive isle Propitious Hope appear'd to smile, And, gazing upwards to the skies, She saw, with wonder beaming eyes, The clouds dispart, and swift descend Venus, the loves' and lovers' friend. 219 The goddess beam'd celestial fair, The emblematic doves were there, But still all faiPd his heart to move Whose love alone she sought to prove ! Poor Sappho's cheek the crimson flush'd, The goddess, pitying, saw she blush'd, And on the maid serenely smil'd, As mother fond might on her child, And bade her be of conquest sure, As triumph by her aid secure. Deep sank the words and fann'd the flame, But vainly all the succour came ; In vain her various arts applied, The obdurate all arts defied. Still, still she fail'd his heart to move Whose love alone she sought to prove. r&fii o5W Despair impell'd, she gain'd the steep Of Leucate's Cape, resolv'd to leap ; But midway in her fall was stay'd, Transform'd at once to swan from maid ; Then, swift as thought or flash of light, She back revers'd her downward flight ; On dazzling wings spread to the breeze, Of power possess'd to float with ease, O'er land, in water, free to roam, And where she listed fix her home 220 Forgot his heart she'd fail'd to move Whose love alone she'd sought to prove. But soon the novelty was o'er, And mem'ry reassum'd her power. But soft o'ershadow'd former things Display'd the flowers, conceal'd the stings ; Shewed Phaon's form, his beauteous face, His form of dignity and grace, But not his wild and wayward mood Unbending, stubborn, unsubdu'd, That e'en refus'd a god's request, Nor love would yield at Love's behest That heart so hard, she'd fail'd to move, Whose love alone she'd sought to prove. She saw him, as when first she gaz'd, When with his charms her soul amaz'd ; She sigh'd, and look'd, and sigh'd again, Scarce understood the pleasing pain. She saw, and in their former track, Her fondness, gentleness, rush'd back. Again a woman's soft distress Was her's, and fund of tenderness. Her heart within a swan's compress'd Seem'd bursting through her point'd breast Forgot his heart she'd fail'd to move, Whose love alone she'd sought to prove. 221 Her neck no longer arch'd with pride, Her wings disorder'd by her side, Her head in languishment declin'd, To Melancholy all resign'd. With foot uprais'd sometime she stood, In sadly pensive attitude ; Or as a lethargy had stole At once her feeling, sense, and soul So still, as she were lost in thought, But soon apparent change was wrought 'Though she had fail'd his heart to move, Whose love alone she'd sought to prove. Once more she rais'd her graceful head, Once more her pinions wide outspread Her plumage shook of dazzling snow While kindling seem'd her eye to glow, As if it would that meaning speak, To utter had denied her beak. And as arous'd from fell despair, Began to cleave the yielding air ; And still pursu'd her Onward flight, Until her native Greece in sight Where she had fail'd his heart to move, Whose love alone she'd sought to prove. Nor sought for regions more remote, Than o'er the very space to float Where he, the cause of all her care, His cot had built 'mid vineyards fair There sweet to sing her requiem o'er, And all her former woes deplore. In mid- way space, 'twixt earth and heav'n, Just o'er, where first the wound was giv'n, There still she sings, although unseen, And still unvarying is the theme, How she his heart had fail'd to move, Whose love alone she'd sought to prove ! WANDERER'S RETURN. THE WANDERER'S RETURN. "'.><,>,.<* A. Welcome, sweet season of joy and of gladness, When of Winter no more the footsteps ye trace ; When Nature had mourn'd in gloom and in sadness, Once more looks abroad with bright smiles on her face- The rude winds are hush'd, replac'd by soft zephyrs, Sweet April has water'd the ground with her showers, The landscape regain'd her soft smiling features, And May o'er the meadows has scatter'd her flowers. The birds have return'd, their wanderings are over, With music re-echoes the wood and the grove ; And each little minstrel, now blest in a lover, No more to new regions is tempted to rove. * - ' '* ; '*' ,-W. VC* The bees their employments again have renew'd, The grasshopper's chirrup is heard on the plain ; Existences varied, a numberless brood, From slumber have woke to enjoyment again. 226 How bright are the leaves in their first tint of green ! As from Nature'skind swathing they burst on our view ; Before the fell canker-worm's ravage is seen, Or the sun's scorching beams have deepened their hue. Again the soft woodlands are lovely and fair, And sweetly that silver stream ripples along ; A scene so enchanting might soothe e'en Despair, Her griefs all forgot, as she listen'd its song. But who is that lone one, so sadly that wanders, UncheerM by the verdure of spring-time's fresh hue ? Vainly for him does the streamlet meander Abstracted, he lifts not his eyes to the blue. Know ye not Edward, of our swains once the pride ? In stature and beauty so far he outshone ; Then a friend he could boast could point to his bride ; Now his mind is unhingM, and he wanders alone. 0, fair was the maid he had plac'd next his heart I As first bud of spring, or just opening flower; So fond and so gentle, so guileless of art, She lov'd and was lov'd, and sought for no more. His Edwin was candour, love, gentleness, truth, All over the village their friendship was known ; 227 For playmates iu childhood, companions in youth, With manhood's progression their friendship had grown . Poor Edwin was friendless, an orphan from hirth No fond mother e'er to her bosom had prest, Or smil'd on his infant years sweetly serene, Or hushed with her lullaby gently to rest. But as oaks of the mountain, rear'd 'neath the blast, Strike deeper their roots, as defying the storm ; So Edwin, 'though o'er him the tempest had past, In mind was as noble, as faultless in form. Edwin to Edward was more than a brother [tree ; They seem'd like twin-stems that had sprung from one Those who saw one, would ask, where was the other ? Sure if Edward was there, there Edwin must be. The hours of their toil like a holiday seem'd, For friends and companions their labours they shar'd ; And, when they were ended, bright eyes fondly beam'd, And for their returning glad welcome prepar'd. Thus happy though humble, contented though poor How blissfully fled Edward's moments awayl > From objects so cherish'd, then what could allure ? What induce from the scene of his pleasures to stray ? PART SECOND. To a far Eastern Isle, in life's early dawn, An Uncle had wander'd, of fortune in quest ; For this from his friends and from kindred withdrawn From all that of peace and contentment had blest. And wealth he'd acquir'd, but his vigour had fled Age had palsied his frame, and glaz'd his dim eyes ; But as things of to-day from mem'ry would fade, More vivid his old recollections would rise. How charming and perfect appear 'd the lov'd race Of kindred and friends whom in youth he had known ! No more in remembrance their failings had place, Their virtues, their kindness, were thought of alone. But she, wont his sports and his pastimes to share, From the same source her birth and nourishment On memory arose with an aspect more fair, [drew, Than all those dear friends whom in boyhood he knew. She had died, to his care her son had consign'd A care which in health he'd forgot to bestow ; But remember'd the charge when strength had declin'd, When languid his pulse, and life's current ebb'd low. 229 How fond the fresh breezes he wish'd to inhale, He knew 'midst his native hills ceaselessly play f *'Ah, could my cheek be once fann'd by that gale ! But ne'er o'er the heath shall my footsteps more stray. " But bootless the wish to return ! I must die. My ashes must far from my Fathers' repose ; Yet grant that my kinsman, my couch may be nigh That one lov'd I may view, e'er death mine eyes close ! ' ' Edward dreamt not of riches, in penury rear'd, Of fashion and folly he nothing had known ; Nor cherish'd a wish save with those so endear 'd, The future might glide, as his past hours had flown. But a voice, as it seem'd, he heard from the grave He knew the soft accents so plaintive and sweet : " Why linger reluctant to cross the broad wave ? To my son shall I sue, and vainly entreat ? " Know you not be, whom thy Mother fond cherish'd, 'Midst menials and slaves has long helplessly sigh'd ; How bear the reflection, that thus he had perish'd ? Look'd in vain for his kinsman, and hopelessly died ?'' He could not resist, thus by duty impell'd, 'Though fierce was the struggle his rack'd bosom knew, 230 Ere Reason the victor, his passions had quelFd, And strengthen'd his lips to pronounce an adieu The grief of his Edwin, how should I portray ? The woe overwhelming assail'd the poor maid, As on the beach standing, to sorrow a prey, A farewell to utter, she vainly assay 'd. How should I decipher the pain of each heart, As helpless and hopeless they look'd to the main ? Then strove, in vain efforts, some hope to impart Then thought of their Edward in anguish again. Then slowly returning disconsolate back, To brood o'er the past, and their sorrow renew ; Or to follow in thought the Wanderer's track, 'Till sad fancy sickens the distance to view. PART THIRD. Twice Flora has yielded to Winter's stern doom, Consign'd 'neath the ground, in cold fetters to lie ; Her offspring cut off in the pride of their bloom First wither'd their beauty, they droop and must die. 231 Twice has the forest, with foliage bright crowii'd, A canopy offer'd for shelter and shade ; And twice its sear garment has cover'd the grouud, Denuded each stem, and each twig disarray'd. Round the bright luminary, beaming and vast, By destiny order'd, the earth twice has run ; Gaining vigour and strength each time as she past, Presenting her seasons in turn to the sun. Each object that nature hath form'd for delight, Twice radiant hath shone, or been mantl'd in gloom ; Since the fate of poor Edward was shrouded in night His destiny hid all unfathom'd his doom. " Edwin, my Love may regard as a brother, While I my lone journey with sorrow pursue ; And, Edwin, my Mary ! my bride ! 0, watch over ! " Poor Edward had said as he bade them adieu. And well the injunction did Edwin obey, He soothed her in accents most tender and sweet ; And well did the maiden his kindness repay, And soon they but part'd more fondly to meet. Of the absent to talk, at first would they stroll, Exploring each spot where with Edward fhoy'd been 232 Words utter'd by truth found response in each soul, The topic untiring, exhaustless the theme. As she would from a snake, she had started away, Of danger had Mary been able to dream ; Yet, thoughtless of danger, she ventur'd to stray With Edwin, by moonlight, by fountain, and stream. His mellow'd tones utter'd, in silence of eve, Found their way to her heart e'er question'd she why ; The lost one remember'd, her bosom might heave ; But Edwin was near her, she heard his soft sigh. And still yet more faint that lost image became, As at distance remote, the song of the stream ; 'Till e'en to her ear strange the sound of his name, His mem'ry, existence, were all as a dream. Asa dream of the night, gay, sparkling, and bright, Which mem'ry discards 'mid the bustle of day ; Thus of Edward she thought, but as of a light That had gleam'd on her path, then vanish 'd away. In darkness had vanish 'd, nor left a warm ray, Might illumine her path through deserts of gloom ; While Edwin appear'd as the bright star of day, That bursts in its splendour in summer's bright noon. 233 PART FOURTH. They gaze, from their view, swift the vessel recedes But for her return shall they long look in vain ; Now triumphant she sails, nought adverse impedes, But ne'er shall she visit a haven again. In the pride of their strength, now bold hearts rejoice ; To tighten the mainsails are strong arms applied ; The cheerful " hoy ! " is prolong'd by each voice, As at danger they mock'd, and peril defied. But who dreams of danger, while swiftly she flies, And far her broad canvass is spread to the breeze ? On the billows white crest, scarce seeming to rise,< So lightly and graceful she scuds o'er the seas. But on the horizon, see, dark clouds appear, The winds sudden hush, and the ocean is still ; The sailor instinctive feels danger is near, But gay drinks bis grog, singing, " Care let us kill !" Not a breath is abroad the sails could embrace, Not a ripple to wrinkle the breast of the wave ; But the dark clouds loom heavily over its face, And silence enthron'd, all is still as the grave. 234 But soon heard a low sigh, approaching a moan, As from the dire regions a spirit had past ; The shrouds sympathetic, are heard also groan, And strain'd nigh to breaking is bent the tall mast. See, lurid lights glare, and lightnings flash bright, And sullen the thunders boom far o'er the deep ; The waves sudden rise in the power of their might, The Tempest! the Tempest ! is rous'd from its sleep. The waves and the tempests commingle in strife, On the wings of the blast destruction is borne, The elements seem as instinctive with life, Mankind's boasted bauble to toss in their scorn. Their forces united, the bark they assail, In a- moment she's stript the conflict is o'er ! She strikes ! She has split ! Art nor skill can avail ; Ne'er traverse the ocean that vessel shall more. The hollow winds howl, the wild billows swell, Waves yawn but to meet, and their victims enclose ; The hurricane rages, and drowns the death wail Of those who no more shall awake from repose. Ah ! where is the bark that so gallantly floated, And o'er the seas swept, as free denizen there ? 235 The surf round the rock with the fragments is dotted ; And where is the crew ? Let the waves answer where 1(13.) The young and the fair, the lov'd and the cherish'd, To rest 'neath the waters together have gone ; The gallant and brave with these, too, have departed ; To tell their sad story, save Edward, is none. A spar he had seiz'd, and thus borne through the wave, All bleeding and torn in a stupor he lay ; When a pirate-ship's crew approach'd him to save, And then as their prisoner they bore him away. Outlaws from their species, intent upon prey, By rapine and plunder alone can they live ; Ferocious and savage as wolves when at bay, No mercy receiving, no mercy they give. Then what could induce them poor Edward to spare ? Not Avarice herself would have search'd him for gold : By jagged rocks torn, of raiment half bare, Oppress'd with the hardships of famine and cold. The negro had serv'd for their drudge and their slave, Oft beaten with stripes, while unceasing his toil, Had sought from his woes, a respite in the grave, Arid death glad embrac'd to escape the turmoil. Poor Edward beholding, extended at length, They doom'd him the place of the slave to supply ; Apparently judging, his years and his strength, The direst of ills for a time might defy. They bore from the rock : on the low hulk they plac'd ? E'er from the dread trance had his senses awoke ; But who paint the dismay arose on his soul, When first the dark scene on his aching eyes broke ? It was not the labour, for Edward had toil'd ; It was not the danger, for fear he ne'er knew ; For formed was his soul in the conflict to smile, And peril to meet he exultingly flew. At dread hour of midnight, all lonely to roam, Through deserts far spread, or the wilderness drear ; Which the lion, as king, still claims as his home, While, like thunder, his roar strikes dismal the ear Were dreadful ! Yet gladly would Edward have chang'd, And fled to the brute from the savage of men ; Though houseless, defenceless, the desert he'd rang'd, And pillow'd his head by the fox's lone den. With these sharks of their kind, a year doleful past, Nor hope dared to whisper that freedom was nigh ; 237 When swiftly approaching, a body mov'd vast, Increasing in bulk as she distanc'd the sky. Tis a war-ship has mark'd that hulk lying low. She hails ! but her signals the pirate crew slight ! Then a broadside she pours, o'erwhelming the blow, From engines destructive prepar'd for the fight. The conflict was fierce, for Despair nerv'd the blow, It was Death play'd the game, and Life was the stake ; By numbers o'erpower'd, they refus'd to give way, Nor sought by submission their doom to escape. Like fiends, arm'd with fury, they fought and they fell, 'Till not one was left o'er his fellows to grieve ; And he who at noon hour, to hope bade farewell, Had liberty found e'er the closing of eve. PART FIFTH. Now safe at his kinsman's, see Edward at last, Where riches await him undreamt of before, In a clime ne'er in fancy's domain was surpass'd, For verdure of leaf, or for beauty of flower. 236 The skies wear a tint to cold regions unknown, So deep is the azure around they display ; The sun from the zenith looks vertical down, No cloud intercepting, to dim his bright ray. Pomona, and Flora, and Ceres there reign, [crown 'd ; With flowers and with verdure, with fruitage bright The threatenings of "Winter they view with disdain, As careless their treasures they scatter around. Abundance and Plenty their smiles ever wear, And joyously laughing still gladden the land. But turn the soil lightly, and plant your seeds there, And hundreds for each shall return to your hand. But the feast, who describe, for ever is spread, To suit every palate, to please every taste ? ' From shrubs you eggs gather, from trees you pluck And Nature is prodigal, even to waste, [bread, (14.) E'en in the white surf that encircles the strand, The cocoa its stem rears majestic on high, Like sentinel plac'd to guardian the land, Its tuft of rich foliage it spreads to the sky. And see the vast fig-tree its rootlets depending, From the palest of green to scarlet's bright glow ! 239 lii endless succession its fruit forth is sending A banquet for all that seek shelter below. There plants, too ethereal from earth to have sprung, In mid-air suspended their garlands twine round, From the trees topmost boughs where firm they have In gorgeous profusion they hang to the ground, [clung, Their crimson, their azure, their purple, their gold, In one brilliant mass the gay blossoms combine ; Such lustre, nor rubies, nor diamonds unfold, Nor offers such splendours Golconda's rich mine. There spread the plantations of sweet blossom 'd cloves ; Here citrons and myrtles one cluster of bloom ; The breeze moving languidly over the groves, Rich fragrance inhaling, breathes only perfume. The birds ! how their plumage attempt to describe ? By fancy unaided the effort were vain ; As tints of the iris, the gay flutt'ring tribe Had borrow'd, nor chose to return them again. The insects in myriads that glide through the air,.. Than lustre metallic their wings are more bright ; And even the serpents, their colours so rare, Beheld from a distance seem streamers of light. 240 Such is the bright clime, and the rich teeming soil, Where Edward a home and a residence found Where all could invite appear'd wreath'd in one smile, Nor pleasure is wanting of sight or of sound. Ah, could those lov'd ones from his heart been untwin'd, Contented and happy he sure might have been ! If beauty, fertility, fragrance could bind, Or bliss be deriv'd from the prospect or scene. Each desire to fulfil attentive his slaves To lull with soft music, or rouse with the gong ; Sweet odours to scatter around as he bathes, Or gently in palanquin bear him along. Nor wanting were dark eyes, soft languishing full, To beam on his pathway to love were he free ; But he sought not, and car'd not fresh blossoms to cull, While his heart it is absent far o'er the sea. Dissever'd from Mary, from Edwin apart, The joys and the pleasures in vain may combine ! To his native Isle still, turns fondly his heart, Unchang'd by the distance, unalter'd by time. When death and destruction career'd in the storm, The hurricane rag'd, and the wild billows rose ; 241 When the ship without helm to ruin was borne, O'erpower'd in the grasp of her merciless foes. When awe-struck were the brave, the stoutest dismay'd, When conscience join'd fierce with the elements' strife ; And memory arous'd, in tableau pourtray'd, In lapse of a moment, the actions of life. In den of the pirates, where thought alone free, Constraint to abide in the regions of sin, Where man an automaton seem'd but to be, For the use of the fiend, director within. 'Mid these scenes of danger, of death, and of dread, When standing it seem'd on the verge of the tomb ; The light of these lov'd ones a bright halo shed, And cast a clear radiance where all else was gloom. 'Mid the horrors of shipwreck, slavery, chains, And all the disasters had mark'd his career, On his heart deep engrav'd, were still those lov'd names, And though chang'd is the scene, they yet are as dear. No landscape is lovely, no prospect is bright, If Mary, if Edwin, enjoy not the scene ; In vain without these would he seek for delight, In fragrance of flow'rs, or in beauty serene. 242 The cold northern clime, where these lov'd ones dwell, Is dearer by far, and he hastens away ; 'Though propitious the gale, and swiftly they sail, He thinks they are slow, and chides their delay. Now, now ! he is safe ! His wanderings at end ! How boundless his joy as he paces the shore ! " I have gems for my fair ! I have wealth for my friend ! Ye rude swelling waves, I shall cross you no more !" PART SIXTH. Of Mary and Edwin that moon is scarce wan'd, An orb on their union, bright beaming arose ; When together they stray, by summer winds fann'd, While prattling its sweet song the streamlet soft flows. As chaplet of roses, with myrtle entwin'd, As warbling of linnet or nightingale's song, As strain of the minstrel, with music combin'd, So blissful their thoughts as they wander along. With raptures all radiant their eyes brightly beam, The future all happiness seems to their view ; 243 A joyous perspective, where Hope's fairy gleam, The path has illumin'd they think to pursue. Ah ! quick from a dream so delusive they start, As sudden beholding yon form on the lea ! They tremble ! swift rushes the blood to each heart, Ah ! sure 'tis the lost one, approaching they see ! He sees them at distance, he longs to embrace, With joy too transporting his glad soul is fraught. Ah ! hurry not onwards, nor quicken thy pace, For dear must that moment of rapture be bought ! Their dread and their wonder, words fail to express In silence they gaze, nor a greeting can frame ; But the joy-beaming look is exchang'd for distress, The blush of surprise for the mantling of shame ! The truth on his mind in an instant had flash'd A truth too o'erwhelraing for reason to bear, The chalice of bliss from his lips is down dash'd, From the summit of hope, hurl'd swift to despair. He leans for support 'gainst the old cherry tree, While Reason's last ray in his eye flickering shone. It flicker'd it waver'd reluctant to flee, Though reft of its sceptre, its empire o'erthrown. 244 With joy the glad villagers hail his return, And old friends come trooping, to welcome him home ; But there's flame in his heart, his brain seems to burn ; And his only reply is, " Ah ! why did I roam ? " They ply him with questions of where he had been, And what his return for so long had delay'd ; They press for description of what he had seen, While silent each youth, and impatient each maid. With fond words caressing, in vain may they try, Appearing on vacancy gazing alone. The questions may vary ; but still the reply, In accents low utter'd, is, " Why did I roam? " Go, Edward, go ! lost to sense of enjoyment ! Nor spring time, nor summer, a joy shall bestow ! For the future to grieve shall be thy employment, In silence and sadness to nourish thy woe ! And thou, gentle Mary ! thy bliss is o'erclouded ! As whispers reproach 'twas too soon to forget ! Nor Edwin, his friend, behold drooping and faded, But he feels the sharp pang of bitter regret ! Remorse, as a spectre, their footsteps pursuing, His glass retrospective still holds to their view ; 245 Each bliss they might share, with bitter imbuing, As in their ears sounding poor Edward's adieu ! How oft, like poor Edward, the future we trust, Form our schemes, find them vain, then form them Of happiness dream from the children of dust ! [anew ; Then wonder and grieve wh?n our dream proves untrue ! THE MARTYR'D BRIDE. THE MARTYR'D BRIDE. PART FIRST. The feast is spread, the guests are met, A's laughter, mirth, and glee u But is it meet at sic a time The bride should absent be ; " Ye maidens fair," the father cried, Gae bid my May come ben ; 'Tis fashions learnt sin' my young days To leave the bride alane." " We dress'd your May wi' a' our skill, In garments rich and gay ; But couldna bide her sighs to hear, They made our hearts sae wae. 250 " She humbly bade us leave her free, To breathe the caller air ; And how could we say na to ane That look'd sae deadly fair ? " Her mild blue e'en said mair nor thanks, She kiss'd ilk maiden's cheek ; A heart o' stane it might hae moved, That look sae mild and meek. " But yet ere this she should been back I fear that we've deen wrang ; For surely nane, that was nae fae, This night would wander lang." " Oh, rise and seek her," ilk ane cried, The bridegroom first ava ; His will was strong, but stiff his limbs, He fell ahind them a.' Bitter and keen the frost that night, An' cauld the night winds blaw ; And every step they onward tak Sinks deeper in the snaw. On icy-brig they cross the burn Nae mair that murmurs free ; 251 And onward through the drift they press, Till gain'd the trysting tree. It was an oak that lang had stood, Proof to the wintry gale, And gnarl'd and twisted were its roots, Its bark like coat o' mail. Now ice drops hang at ev'ry bough, Like crystals rich and rare ; And a' about are fields o' snaw, As desolation bare. Twas there the dogs began to bark, And scrape around the tree As they had kent the treasure sought Aueath maun buried be. And soon ilk eager hand applied, The snaw wraith levels round, And there the bride o' Deveron side A stiffened corpse they found. But wha believe that she is dead, When change sae slight we see, Her cheeks they were sae wan afore, They couldna paler be. 252 In life her een were mild and meek, In death they look serene ; Her cherry lips are parted half, Ye see the pearls atween. But what is that her fingers press ? Her fingers cauld as clay It canna be her bridegroom's hair, For his is mix'd wi' gray. " Oh, weel that raven curl I ken," The father wildly cried ; " It's nae a year sin' he that bore My May had claimed as bride. " Oh weel that coal-black tress I ken, And head on which it grew ; And never bonnier face appear'd 'Aneth a bonnet blue. " And weel he kent the soil to delve, And weel to guide the plough ; And never team than his, I wot, A straighter furrow drew. " Yon cot was his that vacant stands 'Aneath the Boskey braes ; 253 An' May and he had been acquaint Sin' bairnhood's sunny days. " They were a winsome pair, I wot, And here they often stray'd The laddie wi' his jetty curls, She wi' her gouden braid. " And wi' their growth their love had grown, Wi' years increasing still, Nor had they sought that love disguise, Sae thoughtless they o' ill. "And I had even gi'en consent My May should be his bride ; For weel he kent tho' sma' his gear, That little weel to guide. " But when the laird o' Deveron's side Came wooer to my bairn, I bade him never mair come near, In accents rude and stern. " He had 'aneath his burly form A heart to feel the blow, A spirit insult wouldna brook Fra either high or low. 254 " He left the place, he left his cot, He left the Boskey brae, Then easier was my mind. I wot, Then safe I deem'd my May. " He left the place ; I dinna ken If yet he living be ; But if he's dead his wraith I've seen 'Aneath this very tree. " 'Twas ae gloamin time I saw, It seem'd to shun my ken, But I o'er aft had seen afore That form to be mista'en. " But to this change what said my May ? She look'd wi' tearfu' e'e ; But tho' I kent her heart was wae, Her grief I wouldna see. " My May, my May, submissive aye, She never said me na ; But weel I saw her colour fade, Her spirits droop and fa.' " My May, my May, my bonny May, Around my heart had grown, 255 Aud think na ye, I saw unmov'd Her dimpl'd smiles had flown. " And when I saw her een less bright, In sooth my heart was sair, But thought her wedding day ance o'er She'd sorrow dree nae mair. " When lady o' a' Deveron's lands. And mistress o' its ha,' She wouldna hae anither care, Than how to busk her braw. " Wi* jewels to deck her bonny head, And gouden tresses fine ; And while like noble dames she dress 'd, In beauty far outshine. "And I would picture aft my May Array'd in sic attire, Till my auld heart would swell wi' pride, To think I was her sire. " I see 'twas an auld man's dream, And sair I've been to blame, But tak her stiffen'd body up, And gently bear her hame. 256 " 0, tak' her stiffen'd body up, And gently hamewards bear ! And let me follow as I may, For 0, my heart is sair ! " PART SECOND. " Why round the sheep-cots bark the dogs, And scour the drifted snaw ? For here the mass is higher pil'd, And loud the rough winds blaw. " And hear ye not old Hector's bay, While snout and paws applied, He scrapes the snowy mass awa', And rent has open'd wide. " A fearfu' rent it is I wot, For what is that I view ? My mind misgi'es me, or I've seen Afore that bonnet blue. " That weel-knit form, ower weel I ken r The een as black as slaes ; 257 Tis he that lo'ed my bonnie May The lad o' Boskey Braes. " 0, what had led your footsteps here ! Cam' ye to bid fareweel ? And say, tho' we'd been fause to you, Your heart had aye been leal. " Had May and you a last tryst set, That here she cam' alane ? But Death forbade that ye should meet, Nae fifty yards atween. u 0, sure you sair had been o'ercome Wi' travel and wi' storm ! Ere numb'd and chilTd ye sat you down, To rest your stalwart form. *' But I in vain may questions speir, Your lips are clos'd for aye ; But ye shall hae a winsome bed, Ye's sleep wi' bonnie May. " Your hearts hae been baith leal and true, Tho' now, alas ! they're cauld ! But parted lang, ye's meet at last, An' rest within a'e fauld. 258 " The game retreat ye baith shall share A grave your bed shall be ; An' ye shall lie, where aft ye've met, Aneath the trysting tree." PART THIRD. " But where's the Bridegroom a' this time, The laird has ony seen ? I would na thought, tho* stiff wi' eld, A laggard he had been ! " But what has broke our brig o' ice '? 'Twas firm an hour bygane. Ah I can it be, our steps it bore, To break wi' his alane ! " 0, waes my heart for Deveron's laird ! Waes me for our bridegroom ! At noontide hour, wha would hae thought That sic would been his doom ? " Little he reck'd, when in the morn, He donn'd his clothing gay ; 259 And jocund cam' to Deveron's side, To claim his bonnie May. " Little he reck'd his winsome bride, He never mair should see ; An' less he reck'd that Deveron's burn, His bridal bed should be. " But wha will tak' his body up? It heavy is as lead ; A weighty man he was afore, But heavier now he's dead. " Get help and tak' his body up t And carry him to his hame ! It's nae wi' us that he maun rest, He was a noble Grseme. " His youth and prime had a' been spent In adding to his gear ; In age he thought 'twas time to wed, But 'twas ower late I fear. " In getting wealth, great his success, His heirs may bless his name ; But yet he was the poor man's frien*, Tho' noble and a Graeme. 260 " His kinsmen, mov'd against my May, By interest and by pride, Would fain against her clos'd his gates, For him they'll open wide. " And he aneath the kirk shall lie, In coffin strong and deep ; But May, wi' him she fondly lo'ed, Without as quiet shall sleep. " As saft shall lie on lowly bed, Wi' lang moss cover'd o'er ; While the auld oak, when spring comes round, Shall screen them like a bower. " When summer suns again shall shine, And birds in concert sing, And western winds shall stir the leaves, And flit on saftest wing. " And aye as wont shall lovers meet, And hold their trysting there, When labour gi'es his wearied sons A gloamin' hour to spare. " And mony a fond love-blinded one, In's bride my May shall see ; 261 And in ilk auld harsh-hearted man, Shall find a churl like me. " For when ye dig the grave for them, For me ye maun leave room ; For I'm a weary man o' eld, Whose feet are near the tomb. " My fourscore years have a' gane by, Like a lang dream they've been ; And sad my wakening at the last, My pride and glory gane. " The last leaf on the wither' d bow Is riven frae the tree ; 0, sure my heart is o' the rock, Or broken it would be ! u 0, tak' my hand some kindly frien', And lead me on my wye ! Wi' tears and drift I'm blinded sae, My hame I would gae by. " My hame 1 waes me ! a weary hame That house will be for me ! It matters not, short is the time, I dweller there shall be. 262 " But can it be this is my -cot, O'ershadow'd sae wi' gloom '? Grief at the threshold here ye meet, Within is as the tomb. " 0, waes me for our wedding guests ! Doleful will be your cheer. Spread is the feast, but wha will joy ? Nor bride nor bridegroom here. " For bridegroom ye maun tak' the grave, And death maun be the bride ; For never day like this was seen, On a' sweet Deveron side." MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. INSECTS OF THE SOLAR BEAM. Insects of the sunny gleam, Joyful sport your little hour ! Heedless of the doom assign'd, Seals your fate the coming show'r. Heedless of your feather'd foes, Destin'd for the swallow's prey ; See, where open-beak'd he glides ! Darting bears his prize away. Ills so dire might well appal, Feather'd foes, impending rain ; Neither intermits your joys, Missing not the numbers slain. Music on each buzzing wing, Wheeling in the airy dance ; 266 Sport and frolic all your aim : See, your glittering swarms advance Ceaseless hum, incessant motion, Fill up your existence space ; Instinct bids you seek enjoyment, None are laggards in the chase. Gauzy pinions flutter bright, Still where pleasures fresh allure ; None to bask in sunshine free, Seek for bliss in haunts obscure. Ah, ray race, how much unlike ! Few as are the days of man ; Ceaseless hopes and idle fears, 'Breviate that little span. Proof of reason is it, say, Of the nobler powers we boast : Still to slight the good possess'd, Still to mourn o'er what is lost ? Past regretted, future fear'd, Ills are sought with anxious skill ; And our labour's full reward, Finds them in our pathway still. ,867 Lay your arrogance aside, Ye who deem yourselves BO wise Deign, for once, a hint to glean From the insects ye despise. Let the past Oblivion share : Future to Almighty trust; To improve the present well, Is enough for child of dust ! AN AFTER THOUGHT. O, had I the wings of a dove, How swiftly my pinions I'd ply ! Not arrow just twaug'd from the bow, So rapid should speed through the sky. The ground and the groundlings I'd leave, With aspect all chilly and bare ; And onwards would speed on my flight, As denizen free of the air. . On pinious light borne I would haste, And regions more favour'd explore ; Where warm and congenial the clime, There high in the ether I'd soar. Nor downwards would choose to descend, However inviting the shade, Preferring in sunshine to bask, My iris-like plumage displayed. Where winter's rough winds are unknown, The zephyrs companions should be ; Together we'd visit each sweet, Not thought more unfettered and free. Where the citron expanding her bloom, Scents far with her fragrance the air ; And Nature, arrayM in her smiles, Is ever propitious and fair. There should I be happy ? Ah, no ! A void there would be in my breast ; If I only thus were endow'd, And I alone pinions possess'd. Then a gift e'en of wings I'd refuse, Or glad, if I had them, resign ; The ground rather choose with a friend, Than soaring in solitude shine. 269 CHARITY: AN ALLEGORY. A Flower, 'though known of heavenly birth, In human garden sometimes grows, Fairer than lily is its bloom, And sweeter than the blushing rose. No gaudy blossoms deck its stem, To lure, or dazzling strike the eye ; But mellow'd tints of soothing pow'r, And colours of perennial dye. Unkindly plants the Flower surround, Harsh as the soil from which they spring,- Unlovely and unlov'd their lives, The stronger wound, the weaker sting. The Zephyr fans their leaves in vain, Ungenial odours still they shed ; 1 task in the sun's warm rays awhile, Then sink into their parent bed. Yet oft ere then, with rankling thorn, Their gentle neighbour sadly wound, E'en when her leaves expanded wide, As kind protectors spread around. 270 To shield them from the bitter blast, The driving hail, impending rain ; But 'though ungrateful thus they prove, She only smiles, and tries again. Their faded petals, wither'd leaves, Sees scatter'd far by Autumn's breath ; And powerless to arrest their doom, Deplores their end, and mourns their death. Rejoiceth in glad Spring's approach, In hopes to see the ruin'd rise ; Their bursting buds with rapture views, While sweetly grateful beam her eyes. 0, sweet celestial Flower, be mine ! 'Though I no other good may claim ; Unknowing, and unknown should live, And buried lie without a name ! AN ADDRESS TO THE ROSE. Sweet Rose ! fairest flower of the Muses, By thousands thy charms have been sung ; 271 The regions of truth and of fiction, Alike with thy praises have rung. I too, 'though unworthy, would hasten To offer the queen-flower my song ; But roses are numerous, nor know I To which it of right should belong. So lovely of each is the blossom, So redolent each of perfume ; I can but that present deem fairest, That gone, then the next I assume. Hut when all around me, enchanted, I each in rotation regard, More embarrass'd it seems I become, The palm more unfit to award. For what, say, can equal the fragrance ? What vie with the Crimson's deep glow ? The delicate tint of the Blush-rose ? Or the White that outrivals the snow ? The Moss-buds, all beauty surpassing, In their bright vernal cots soft reclin'd ; As her climax here Flora had reach 'd, And e'en on perfection refin'd. 272 Yet all that had charm'd in her kindred, Commingl'd and blent may be seen ; In the colours the Damask adorn She sure is magnificent's queen. E'en the Rose of the hedge-row, and wild, What sweetness she lends to the gale ! How profusely her blossoms she spreads, The gems of the woodland and dale ! Why speak of the roses of Persia? Or those far renown'd of Cashmere ? Than these with morn's dew-drops bespangl'd,- Can image more lovely appear? No 1 Flow'ret in beauty excelling, To speak as thou kindred hadst none ; For, 'though of divergents thus many, We think of thee still as but one. And know, 'though thy aspect may vary, In essence thou still art the same ; The Flower sung to harp- strings of old, That our minstrels have giv'n to fame. Thy name never hackneyed can be, The senses thou never canst tire ; 273 The child yet unborn thou shalt glad, As of old thou enraptured'st his sire. The pride of the cottager's garden, Thou bloom 'st in the courtly parterre ; Of sweetness and grace a meet emblem A type of all lovely and fair. To thy shrine the lovers of beauty Still shall hast'n, thou exquisite flower ! While in thee shall the pious behold, His goodness who gave thee thy dow'r. THE FATE OF THE OBSCURE. In obscurity's vale, Unaided, alone, Are spirits now pining, On high might have shone ; As stars the most lustrous, In galaxy bright, Shedding o'er a dark world Effulgence of light. But high aspirations, What would they do here ? 274 The scorn of the proud ones, Of vulgar the sneer. Great thoughts in their bosoms, But spring there to die ; Wit, feeling, and fancy, Neglected there lie. Night's curtain enfolds them Around all is bare ; No trees rich in foliage, Nought grateful is there. The atmosphere chilly, Inclement, and rude ; But seldom of sunshine A ray may intrude. And if in meandering Life's blossoms among, A sunbeam, erratic By chance should go wrong, And into the valley Should thus find its way, And they should mistake it The dawning of day And, in the delusion, Then venture to joy : 275 An instant's reflection The dream must destroy , Hopes blighted behind them, Before them despair, And Penury's offspring In legion are there. Weaving closely around them Their meshes and chain, From which, escape seeking, They struggle in vain. They cry for assistance ; But who heeds their cry ? The proud and the scornful Regardless pass by. Their genius, their virtues, As 'though they were not, They live, are neglected, They die, are forgot. No requiem sounds o'er them, None heard to bewail ; Unregretted they rest In Obscurity's vale. Yet sometimes it happens A relic they leave, 276 Whose value discover^, Shall cause those to grieve O'er the fortunes of those They had slighted before, Their feeling had wounded, Repuls'd from their door. Their merits acknowledg'd, They'll join in the praise From Obscurity's vale Their ashes then raise ; Re-entomb them with pomp, And expend on their grave, Thrice quadrupl'd, the sum Suffic'd had to save. PHILANTHROPY. Blame not my love as too diffuse, Too general, and too free ; E'en when confess'd, by all 'tis shar'd, Though not in one degree. I love the flowers ! 0, how I love ! Whate'er their form or hue ; 277 I would their bloom perennial were, Forever in my view. Nor those alone ask culture's care, At will seem taught to blow ; I love not less those grace the meads, On spots neglected grow. From shelvy rocks in festoons hang, Old ruins garland o'er, And deck them as for festival Array'd in days of yore. The plumey people all I love, For beauty fam'd, or song ; To hear their woodland minstrelsy, I'd listen all day long. The finny tribes I love to mark, When these I may behold, Whether in silver sheen they gleam, In purple, or in gold. I love all creatures range the earth, Whether these tam'd or free ; I love them all of ev'ry sort, Though not in one degree. 278 Since some as faithful friends 1 trust, To guard me or defend ; Others my daily wants supply, To serve, their strength some tend. With frolic, gambols, others please, And cheerful make my home ; But yet the greater number far, At distance still must roam. But 'though their instincts prove a let, I these as friends should know ; Why should I any loathe or hate, Or be to any foe ? I love my kind, 'though not their crimes, Their falsehood, or their hate ; But know their frailty by my own, And thus commiserate. And were I of the power possess'd, No source of ill I'd leave, Nor should a single son of earth Henceforth have cause to grieve. I love my God supremely love, Or so desire to do ; 279 While faith, I feel, who wills to love, He will with love imbue. And as His love extends to all Of earth, of air, of sea ; I so would every creature love, 'Though not in one degree. AN ADDRESS T<> that spirit of Philanthropy, which has successfully induced the instruction of the Deaf and Dumb. Coine, Charity, fair queen, That lovest most unseen, Thy goodness to unfold, Come view this silent band, Their thanks express by hand Their gratitude behold I They had no voice or speech, They could not thee beseech That efforts should be made, But thou hast heard their sigh Hast mark'd the wistful eye, That mute implor'd thy aid. 280 Poor lone ones on the earth, Deaf, dumb, were these from birth, They could not even pray, Till thou with feeling fraught Advanc'd, and hadst them taught The smooth and pleasant way. Of usefulness in time To read the Book Divine, Containing heavenly lore, Of Him redemption bought, The resurrection taught, And blessing evermore. Thee, Charity, He blest, And thou hast His bequest For sure, if aught below A gladness could impart, Exhilirate the heart, Or sense of bliss bestow It must from this proceed, That to the poor indeed, The gifts receiv'd of Heav'n A portion of thy wealth, Thy meed of skill and strength To these thou free hast giv'n. 281 This has to time regard, But higher thy reward In future worlds shall be, When thou on God's right hand Shall with the ransom'd stand, And thy Redeemer see, Hear angels with acclaim, Aloud pronounce thy name, Amongst the blessed found, While golden harps appear, And fill thy raptur'd ear With music's sweetest sound. Oh, joy supreme and bliss, Can greater be than this God has for thee in store ; Secure of his regard, How precious thy reward Blest, and for evermore. THE FIRST ADVENT OF VICTORIA IN ABERDEEN 1848. The Queen ! 'tis a magical word, With thousands we hasten to view ; 282 In endless succession the crowds Are seen the same route to pursue. Say, ye expectants of pleasure, What is it ye hope to behold ? A haughty, proud image of state, A tissue of glitter and gold ? Return disappointed, if so ; Victoria such gew-gaws contemns And virtues and graces alone Regards as the brightest of gems. No splendours barbaric she needs, Simplicity only you'll see ; To self and to Nature aye true, From meanness, of artifice free. But ye who who have nobler thoughts form'd. Go forward prepar'd to admire ; Though heav'n denies you her state, At least to her virtues aspire. While others of nations the pride, And Britain's great monarch alone, Behold, as they think of her sway, Pomp regal, the sceptre and throne. 283 Do ye her humility mark, The gracionsness there may be seen ; As matron and mother then love The woman, e'en more than the Queen ! THE WARNING. Oh, shun the deceiver, my Emma, Oh, haste from his presence and flee, For he who prov'd faithless to others Will never prove constant to thee ! See Helen, all drooping and faded, She once of his heart seem'd the pride, And a thousand times o'er he had vow'd No other should e'er be his bride. She blush'd as she listen'd his praises, As a rose when it 'gins to unfold : And what was her fate ? ye have seen her- The sequel it need not be told. Yon maniac who wanders unheeding, Was famous as Anna the fair ; But, ah ! she lent ear to his pleading, Then to ruin was left and despair. 284 Ye've heard of the fate of poor Lucy, When sudden arous'd from love's dream ; The world frowning gloomily round her, How madly she plung'd in the stream. Too unbending and stern was her sire, The deserted, he spurn'd from his path ; Impetuous and fierce in his ire, She quail'd 'neath the force of his wrath. Short-liv'd was thy pleasure, poor Lucy, And heavy thy portion of wo But say where is now the deceiver, Is he mark'd as a Cain on the brow ? No ! gay, debonair, now as ever, His object is still to betray ; Of flow'rets to gather the fairest, Then careless to cast them away. Then shun the deceiver, my Emma, Oh, haste from his presence and flee, For he who was faithless to others Will never prove constant to thee. 285 TO THE ADMIRERS OF A SHORT-SIGHTED POLICY. Yes, yes, ye may warfare condemn ! I, too, must deplore it, what then ? Shall we venture to those Who have conquer'd our foes, Deny them the guerdon they claim ? Their country, its glory, A place in its story, A niche in the Temple of Fame ? Yes, yes, ye may warfare condemn ! With justice its causes may blame. But yet can ye withhold From the true and the hold, Whose courage nought hostile can tame, Who have perill'd their life, Amid danger and strife, The plaudits such valour may claim ? Yes, yes, ye may warfare condemn ! But can you look coldly on them Who their post have maintain'd, When wounded and maim'd, As he whom with ease we could name, 286 Who of one arm bereft, Still fought with that left, 'Till Victory herself crovvn'd his aim? (15.) Yes, yes, ye may warfare condemn ! Nor I an excuse for it frame. With you I could joy, Should no more to destroy, Man's wrongs, man's fierce passions inflame ; And that banner unfurl'd, Should o'ershadow the world, Shall reign of Millennium proclaim. Yes, yes, ye may warfare condemn ! Of that period thrice blest may declaim ; But 'till then I may dare Whisper, wisdom it were To shun those, whatever their aim, Would our armies disband, Leave defenceless the land, Lest late we repent it in shame. Yes, yes, ye may warfare condemn ! But for safety I'd rather trust them, Who with arms nerv'd with might, Are determin'd to fight For freedom, the birthright they claim, 287 For their country to bleed, And but ask as their meed, A place in the annals of Fame. NIGHT THOUGHTS. Eve's shadows now begin to fall, And Night prepares to spread her pall, And wrap the world in gloom ; Men's children now to rest retire, The infant and the grey-hair'd sire Submit to Nature's doom. Tir'd labour's sons their eyelids close, Secure of finding that repose Which labour only yields To these swift wing the hours away, Till Phoebus calls at break of day From slumber to the fields. But different far those hours appear To him harass'd by guilt or fear, His soul in terrors bound ; By day he shuns his fellow's eyes, And night new horrors still supplies, He starts at every sound. 288 The martyr now to learned lore, 'Gins musty volumes to explore, He racks his labour'd brain ; Deaf to the converse of his kind, To all external beauty blind, His wish alone is fame. Now is the time the lover deems Most fit for his romantic dreams Of bliss from earthly mould, What had but pleas'd in form or face, By fancy's aid assumes new grace, All beauteous to behold. And Fashion's votaries, where are they ? The night to these alone is day, While Folly's maze they thread ; Drawn onwards by example's force They madly plunge in downward course, By Dissipation led. Now many a head on pillow borne Is tortur'd by that secret thorn They would that none should know ; Sufficient in itself to keep Afar the balmy powers of sleep, And rack with keenest woe. A few indeed a happy few Who life's still path in quiet pursue, 'Though humble their abode, In downy sleep their eyes may close, Secure of safety in repose, Their confidence in God. But in whatever manner past, To many it must prove the last On earth they e'er shall see ;- Then let me not the future trust, But think, as sets the Sun, thou must One day not dawn for me. THE RICH AND POOR The Rich and Poor ! Distinction wide ! There is no gulf so broad, As that, which separates the two ; And yet to give the Poor their due, Its greatest breadth they'd soon pass o'er, If they but knew the road. Yet, by an odd perversity, And contradiction strange, 290 'Though wealthy all aspire to be, They yet the Rich with envy see, Though many, every virtue grace, For riches would exchange. Nor are the Rich consistent more, Or rather, they forget, That what they proudly boast their own Is yet no other than a loan, Which He who kindly gave, demands They should regard as debt ! To be repaid with interest due, To those the toil'd, oppress'd, The widow'd and the orphan'd one, Who stay or aid on earth have none, But sit with streaming eyes forlorn, By varied ills distress'd. The Rich, the Poor ! Distinction wide ! It ever must be so ; Yet sure they both might happier be, If one were more from envy free, The other as a trust regard The wealth may these endow. And sure no title loftier is Than that the Rich may claim : 291 The Stewards of God ! their task assign'd, The wounds of Sorrow's sons to bind, To feed the hungry, clothe the poor, And make alone their aim. To emulate the Prince of Peace, Friend of the Poor confess 'd ; Who e'en when kind inviting all, Address'd peculiarly His call To those the world despis'd the Poor ! And these most largely bless'd. THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A THUNDER-STORM. Pale with affright there are who hear the shock, When clouds rude meet, and in collision jar ; When pealing sounds, as if man's fears to mock, The clarion dread, proclaims ethereal war. When thunders round the welkin sullen boom, These timorous, hold suspended e'en their breath ; In each bright flash that transient gilds the gloom, Behold, swift wing'd, a messenger of death. Not so with me ! I can, without dismay, Hear on its march loud heaven's artillery roll ; 292 Delighted see the sheeted lightnings play, While wakes to ectasy my raptur'd soul. But why, when Nature seems convuls'd, rejoice ? Why joy, my soul, in elemental war? It is in all I hear the Almighty's voice, Know of Destruction He directs the car. And thus when lightnings glare, when oaks are rent, And hoary ruins struck, terrific fall ; Whence owls, unroosted, shrieking sound their 'plaint Where, save the gleam, dread darkness reigns o'er all. A sense of grandeur seems rny soul to thrill ; And, were a choice allow'd, such place I'd choose As this I here describe 'though slight my skill The grovelling 'raid sublimity to loose. Let rugged rocks on high stupendous soar, O'er which there rushes, with impetuous sweep, A torrent burl'd precipitately o'er, And sudden plung'd in chasm dreadful deep. In time-scoop'd caves, there yelling evermore, Let the toss'd waters seem to mourn their fate ; While echo mingling in the wild uproar, The noise of all is heard reverberate. 293 Let Yew and Cypress form a belt around, Their branches creaking in the hollow blast ; While bellowing waves are hoarse heard to resound, As on the distant strand they rude are dash'd. There to some darkling cavern let me hie, Where spars descending meet with those below ; And solemn list, while thunders rend the sky, And raging round fierce tempests wildly blow. Ye howling winds, that mock the tortur'd groans, Careering through the air on dismal wing ! Are thine those wailing sounds, those hideous moans, That o'er the storm a deeper discord fling ? Or have the unblest spirits of the tomb, A leave obtain'd to visit upper air ? To howling tell what anguish is their doom, And are those shrieks expressions of despair ? At this dread hour, where such terrific storms, Where superstition holds her dreary reign, Pale Ignorance beholds their gliding forms, And seeks from fear prompt fancies flight in vain. But come, my soul, why speak of coward fear ? Of superstition why the thought intrude ? 294 Dost thou not feel the God Almighty here, Safe in His guardianship thy solitude ? What 'though His voice now utter'd seems in wrath, His hand in ire appearing to deform ; INot reinless Ruin now pursues his path, He on the whirlwind rides, directs the storm ! At his behest the raging winds arise, In pillars vast earth's atoms circling soar ; Asunder wide the thunders rend the skies, The shatter'd clouds a deluge downward pour. What 'though proud man of little knowledge vain, Will tell the clouds the spark electric nurst ; How, when surcharg'd, they must explode explain ? But can he say who plac'd it there at first ? Nay, can he tell what is that agent dread, 'Though he, in mimic scale, its force may show ? Why through the universe profusely spread, Pervading all things whether high or low ? The winged winds, hut billows light of air ; The storm, but these press'd onward in their flight ; The tempest, whirlwind, but these winds in war, When they converge and struggle for the right. 295 Thus speaks Philosophy ; but can she give, Or on her votaries that calm peace bestow Which those enjoy who in God's favour live, And say all is, because He wills it so ? These in the thunder hear His awful voice ; See in the flash a symbol of His power ; And when the tinted arch descried, rejoice, And own His goodness in the falling shower. With these alone, when storms career around, And low the forest's strength in ruin lies, And darkness wraps the world in gloom profound, I would my soul to God should heav'nvvard rise. And in the tempest see, yet undismayed, When rous'd His wrath, how terrible his power Yet, while in ire His providence displayed, His mercy own, His majesty adore. But come, ye nobler passions of my soul, And join the universal hymn of praise ! The storm is o'er ! His goodness, love extol ! " Great are His works, and wonderful His ways ! 296 THE ILLS OF THE FASTIDIOUS. Where, Life ! are thy treasures conceal'd ? Where thy storehouse of bright beaming smiles ? Whence the mirth of the vulgar deriv'd ? What their thoughts of corroders beguiles ? The rustic, the low, and unletter'd, Tune the reed, or they laugh, or they sing ; 'Though their toils must commence with the dawn, Eve arrives on hilarity's wing. Say, are these obtuse, and so feel not The obstructions they meet in their way ? So callous, the thorny points pierce not, Thus so jocund they are and so gay ? Or is it that thou art too partial, All thy sweetness for these kept in store, While others must drain up the potion, W T hile the chalice of bitters runs o'er ? And, ah, still a direr misfortune ! To their ills these no courage oppose ; Each shaft finds its mark as it's levell'd, Since their feelings lend aid to their foes. 297 Cry, ah ! Wo for these sensitive ones ! With their fate how unfit these to strive ! Cry, ah ! Wo for these sensitive ones, To all adverse too keenly alive ! What avails that to pleasure keen, too, Moderation unknown when they joy, Since but seldom here raptures are found, Undebas'd still more rare by alloy. Cry, ah ! Wo for these sensitive ones ! Vain they ask where thy treasures conceal'd ; Whence the mirth of the vulgar derived, To these delicate vain were reveal'd. Cry, ah ! Wo for these sensitive ones ! 'Though genius enthron'd in each mind, Wit, talent, and fancy their dower, By misfortune so over-refin'd. Cry, ah ! Wo for these sensitive ones, 'Mid the world's busy turmoil dismay 'd ! From day's splendours o'er dazzl'd who shrink, Yet who languish confin'd to the shade. 298 TO THE SONS OF TOIL. Be cheer'd, ye Sons of Labour ! And round you but regard ; See violets in your pathway, And daisies gem the sward ; Your senses these to gladden, Are sent your toils' reward. Hark 1 there's music in the air ! It sighs amongst the trees ; Heard in the streamlet's ripple, It whispers in the breeze ; Nor is there gale or zephyr, But with sweet tones would please. For you design'd these only, Can it be wrong to deem ? When ye, in summer sunshine, Droop fainting 'neath his beam, With music to regale you, And bathe in airy stream. What 'though ye murmuring say And what ye say part true 299 The rich have joys peculiar, And these as well as you ; Not so, in sooth, you'll find it When further ye pursue. For why ? With pleasure sated, Their appetites are cloy'd ; They rise up from the banquet, The feast all unenjoy'd ; The sweets were too redundant, O'er seasoning zest destroy 'd. The eider down refuses The slumbers you may share, On heathy bed reposing, Unrack'd by guilt or care, The restless thoughts that tease them, Your wearied eyelids spare. Yet deem not those more guilty Whom riches may endow, 'Though where wealth is abounding, There cares shall surely grow, As on fields richest ever, W T eeds most abundant show. Be cheer 'd, then, Sons of Labour ! From these at least you're free ; 300 And 'though to toil your portion, Tis shar'd by Ant and Bee ; Nor ought while health is lent you, To comfort mar, or glee. Abroad there, free around you, Kind Nature spreads her store ; Plants beauty in your footpath, And gems the meadows o'er ; Sends music's voice to glad you, Say, friends, what would you more ? Beneath your humble roof-trees, As birds within their nest, You, in God's favour trusting, May be as these so blest, Contentment there abiding, And peace your bosom's guest. Then, Sons of Toil, complain not, Nor murmur at your fate ; Why slight the pleasures lent you ? Why envious of the great ? Since you have joys they taste not, They ills enwove with state. 301 VICISSITUDE. Spring leaves brightest livery wear, Skies are softest in their dawn ; Flowers the fairest freshly blown, Scarce expanded ere they wan. Waning paler, paler still, Losing all their pristine glow ; Yet another scorching sun, And the ground their petals strew. Summer deeper dyes the leaves, Autumn finds them dry and sere, And ere Winter's ice-beard grown, They from vision disappear. And Aurora's tinted skies, Brightly glowing, rich and gay ; Though so brilliantly they shine, Soon give place to sober day. Why so beaut' ous, firstlings, say, Thus to perish in your bloom ? What to man can it portend, Evanescent thus your doom ? 502 Death inevitable death To the brightest, fairest things ; And to point those cannot die, Ever furnish'd come with wings. Spring leaves vernal, fresh-blown flowers, Skies in Iris tints array'd, All repeat the self same tale, " Thus your cherish'd joys must fade." Nor alone, when sated, tir'd, We unmov'd might see them fly ; When expectance strains to clasp, When secur'd it seems, they die. Yet, as Nature's fairest, they On their wings a lesson bear, Sadly teaching all things here, Unsubstantial are as air. The corollary from this, Sure is writ in language plain : We our views must elsewhere place, If we ought secure would gain. 303 THE PERILS OF THE DEEP. 0, Thou Omniscient, All-above ! Great God of Mercy and of Love I In safety through the foaming tide, The Seaman still protect and guide. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! When on the floating plank they stand, DisseverM from the solid land, Where finds no resting place the eye, Save spreading waters and the sky, Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! To fill the shroud and spread the sail, 0, gently wake the slumbering gale ! Send, 0, send, the favouring breeze, And waft them o'er propitious seas ! Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! Form'd, like bird, to skim the ocean, Gliding swift with easy motion, May no storms impet'ous force Retard the vessel's onward course. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! In silent watches of the night, Be to their souls a flood of light ! 304 Soft as the babe in cradle swung, Be their repose in hammock slung. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! But if thy counsel wills not so, And thy behest bids tempest blow ; If sudden rising howls the blast, And like a sapling bends the mast, Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! If, before the word is spoken, " Turn the helm ! " the spars are broken, And strain'd the canvas, rent in twain, Hangs drooping o'er a useless train. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! If all the winds converging meet, Against the vessel fiercely beat, While echo, bellowing, back rebounds, From clashing clouds the thunder sounds. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! While thickest darkness veils the skies, Save where the sheeted lightning flies ; The raging billows, fury lash'd, Against the bark are rudely dash'd. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! 305 Now rising on the crested wave, Now sinking in the humid grave, Vainly for existence striving, Whirlwinds swift to ruin driving, Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! If while the surf runs mountains high, Like black wall towering to the sky ; The line and plummet all in vain, Are baffled by the raging main. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! When through the gloom the practised eye Of seamen breakers can descry; 0, strengthen for the coming shock, And guard in safety past the rock I Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! Treach'rous hid beneath the deep, Save where a part, abrupt and steep, Rises from the watery floor, Round which the boiling surges roar. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! Thou whom the winds and waves obey, Thou only canst their fury stay, By Thy permission thus they rage, 306 At length, Lord, their wrath assuage! Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! Now when the stoutest 'gin to quail, And cheek of bravest waxeth pale ; When all is done that man can do, See pitying, the helpless crew. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! Their bark a hulk before the blast, The conflict can no longer last ; E'en now she strikes ! and strikes again ! Her shiver'd timbers rend in twain. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! Lord, hear the agonizing cry Of victims unprepar'd to die ! 0, hear the shriek of loud despair ! Hear the unwonted earnest prayer ! Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! 'Though often they forgot Thy pow'r r Sinn'd against Thee every hour, To Thee but rarely bent the knee, And seldom thought bestow'd on Thee. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! 307 Thy laws neglected and defied ; Yet, for the sake of Him who died, Spare yet awhile their fleeting breath, And anatch them from impending death. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! E'en while the ridgy rock they tread, The wreck around in fragments spread, Or bleeding torn, and helpless lie, Beneath a parch 'd, and scorching sky, Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! Where nought is seen the eye could cheer, Iron-bound rock with aspect drear ; Nor brook nor bubbling fountain found In all the hard and flinty ground. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! Where Nature niggard and unkind, Gives labouring search no more to find, Than where in clefts the ebbing tide Hath shell-fish scantily suppli'd. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! While brackish water thirst but mocks, Found 'neath the eaves of hanging rocks ; 308 Drought eager stoops with lips all dried, But, drinking, turns unsatisfi'd. Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! Round Famine stalks with eager eyes, Death ready waits to claim his prize ; Yet outcasts as they seem of fate, Forlorn, abandon'd, desolate, Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! Yet, yet have mercy, we beseech ! They cannot be beyond Thy reach. The far off cry of orphan hear ! Behold from widows' eyes the tear ! Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! Lord, the pious mother see ! To Thee she humbly bends her knee ! To Thee she breathes the earnest prayer For mercy for her son is there ! Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! That 'kerchief rais'd on slender spar, May guide some friendly bark from far. 0, still the surge! be calm'd the wave! And entrance give that bark to save ! Lord, in thy mercy, look on those far at sea ! 309 Lord, thou Learest! The waves are smooth 'd! The winds to gentleness are sooth'd ! That signal proves efficient guide, The destin'd vessel cleaves the tide. Lord, thou gracious art to those far at sea ! Not yet too late ! for yet they breathe ! Nor has one bosom ceas'd to heave ; 'Though it seems as death foretasted, Famine pin'd and hunger wasted. Lord, thou gracious art to those far at sea! Not yet too late ! they yet shall live ! And for thy mercies praises give; E'en now they hear the rescuing cry, And joyful ope each languid eye. Lord, thou gracious art to those far at sea! Again shall Hope propitious smile, They yet shall reach their native Isle ; The voice of kindred yet shall come, The mariners to welcome home. Lord, thou gracious art to those who plough the sea ! She widow seem'd shall husband claim ; A sire the seeming orphan name ; 310 Answer'd a mother's earnest prayer, She clasps the object of her care. Lord, thou gracious art to those who plough the sea ! The perils past but give a zest To all the comforts now possess'd ; The husband, son, and sire restor'd, Lord, let thy goodness be ador'd, Who gracious art to those who plough the sea ! FAME. Men's suffrages personified, is Fame, A.nd form'd her trumpet of their gather 'd breath ; Yet when with this, her ensign arm'd, she comes, We then, forgetful of her origin, As goddess hail ! and listen to her voice With all the reverence due to that of Fate ; Though partial and capricious in her choice, She hallows some, to sink the rest in shade. She to the Poets a strong resemblance bears, Who choose alone of certain flowers to sing The rose, the lily, and the violet blue Re-praising oft, for beauty, stature, or perfume ; 311 Yet must we not, by these too partial led, As despicable deem what left unsung. Apart from names, in Holy Writ embalm'd, From Time's first dawn e'en to the present age, How scant the list of those have record found ! Nor in its amplitude deficient more, Than lacking in discriminating power : Since he the benefactor of his race, And he in arts destructive only skill'd, Have both an equal space in which to shine. A few selected from the human throng, From dull obscurity redeem'd her breath, Hath safely wafted down the stream of time, The rest forgot as they had never been. Yet, in the while, how many faithful wives, Devoted husbands, children dutiful, Have toil'd, denied to self, to pomp, or joy, In haunts obscure, by noblest motives led, Who never sought or won the meed of praise ! By Destiny compell'd the path to tread, With thorns and briars it seem'd the most bestrewn ; With nought but sense of duty to sustain The load of cares impos'd by adverse fate ; They, in their prime, the impress bore of age, With furrows drawn by grief their brows engrav'd, And early sank, yet when from life they ceas'd, 312 Oblivion's pall then shrouded them so close, Their annals perish'd lost their names for aye Or but remember'd in the mass of weeds That fill'd a place in Nature's wilderness, Liv'd unregarded, tinregretted died ! A GLIMPSE OF HUMAN MISERY. When every spot with beauty late adorn'd, All disarray 'd a waste of gloom dispreads Before the aching eye, that looks in vain For some bright vestige of the summer past. When the brooks erst murmuring smote the ear, In fetters fast are bound, all ice-enchained, And naked boughs and flowerless meads declare That Winter reigns sole tyrant of the year. When the sweet choristers have fled alarm'd, Or on the leafless thorn, with drooping wings, In sadness sit, mute, sorrowful, forlorn, Nor give the woods with song more to resound. While music heard re-echoed from the grove, When the sun's feeble rays scarce pierce the gloom, That wrapping Nature's form her robes compose ; And heard the raging of the angry blast, 'Stead of the western wind's Refreshing breeze ; 313 Or welcome more the zephyr's balmy breath, And torrents roar where brooks were wont to flow. When Winter's ensigns dreadful thus beheld, Then let me hasten from the rural scene ; And to some crowded city wing my flight, 'Till a more genial season back return, To re-adorn what wilderness appears And seeming desolation, scatter o'er With blossoms rich a variegated bloom. True, Winter's sway to rural not confin'd : He also o'er the city grimly stalks, In robes of mist and sullen fogs array'd ; But lofty domes, and houses closely wedg'd, Against his wrath shall there defences be, And kindly screen his ravages from view ; Ensconc'd in warm and comfortable home, With cheerful fire and converse gay, Swift shall the moments pass, yet unperceiv'd, away. Wrapt in warm wools and furs, the busy crowds, In teeming myriads, seem to swarm the streets ; No cause have these to fear the bitter blast, The cold but serves to brace their nerves, By soft indulgences relax'd and weak, Life's fluid more briskly moves its channels through, And gives the quicken'd spirits freer play. 314 Strange spectacle the moving mass appears To one from solitude but just remov'd : The efflux of a thousand streets obscure, The tide accumulated pours along The main, without a seeming termination, Or to the gazer an apparent aim. 'Though, doubtless, every human billow there, Propelling motive has, and goal in view ; But here a corner offers safe retreat, Where I may pause, close scrutinizing more Its parts component, and descriminate More leisurely the traits of the vast corps ; And, see ! a sample stops e'en now in view ! By demonstration of external kind, Were I to judge, true friends I now behold. Soon as the recognition made they pause, The salutation cordial to bestow Hand clasp'd in hand, as friendship's proof sincere. How happy these to meet, each eye beams joy, And blandest smiles each countenance illumes ; To me their persons as their names unknown, Ne'er seen before, I ne'er may see again, And yet I share as partner in their joy ; Since, by experience taught, I know full well That friendship sweet, and social converse kind, Can colours lend of Summer's softest eve To the dread horrors of a Winter's dav. 315 Of happiness how great the portion mine, By testimony occular to learn, That numbers rich, in every comfort blest, Are fortifi'd 'gainst Winter's angry breath, And may his threatening storms secure defy. But, ah ! a different form, in different guise, At length has caught my eye ; but sure I dream ! A brother of my race it cannot be, So desolate, so abject, and forlorn ; And see, a tear bedews his furrow'd cheek, And yet another seems the last to chase, Slow trickling down ; umnark'd they fall, As the rude blast with piercing hail surcharg'd, In eddies wild impetuous sweeps along, And through his tatter'd raiment makes its way., Yet of the crowd not one has stopp'd to hail, To sympathize the tear, or even say " What aileth thee? Be comforted, my brother !" I'll put the question to some passer-by, A felon he may be, thus shunn'd of all. " Say, who that half-clad wretch now moving slosv, His feeble frame that trembling drags along ; Whose meagre form his rags so ill conceal, His bones ye number may beneath the skin, That lies in wrinkles thick as does the folds On rhinoceros' leathern hide are found, Yet loose as purse when its contents are gone ? " 316 " The annals of his life are simple all, Nor will the tale detain your listening ear. Born in the ranks of those whose daily bread The labour of the day must still supply ; From youth to manhood cheerful he had toiled, But by exertions most severe no more Could gain than would for present wants suffice ; Yet still his task unceasing he pursued, Alike in Summer's heat and Winter's cold ; But though toil his, not joyless then his days, For fond eyes then were 'neath his humble thatch To beam a welcome each returning eve, And careful hands his viands to prepare, And for his comfort pile the cheerful fire ; And rosy prattlers round his knees to climb, With fingers soft to press his toil-worn hand, Or on his breast the dimpl'd cheek recline. For then a wife was his but, ah ! she died, And children that a world of promise gave, But in succession each, as frost-nipp'd flowers From the parental stem ere reach'd their prime, Had pal'd, then sank in premature decay ; Except one gallant youth, too much his pride, But when a stripling he had gone to sea A blank his story else, a tale unknown, Save to his home he never more return'd To glad his parent with a ray of joy. 317 " But 'though of every comfort thus bereft, He still had toil'd, for Nature crav'd her boon, Nor time allow'd for sorrow sad to pine, Until in lapse of years more frail he grew ,- His strength decay'd, Time bow'd his stately trunk, And o'er his visual orbs dim shadows flung ; At length dire palsy seiz'd his aged frame, His arms as wither'd branches droop'd supine, And from his powerless grasp the hammer falls, His efforts vain, he labour can no more, But from his fellows must the pittance glean, His hardy sinews had of wont suppli'd." " But why that dame in costly robes array'd, Say why does she her mantle closer press, As fearing contact with a thing so vile? And why that insect gay, with guards and seals And golden chains bedeck'd, so swiftly pass, While far the civet floats upon the gale ? Ah ! sure besides those ills with eld enwove, Of some disease contagious he the prey,' Or has as fabl'd basilisk his eye The power to blight and strike the gazers blind ? Contamination is there in his touch ? Or does his breath pollute the ambient air ? Ah ! sure a part omitted in the tale, And he, if not a martyr to disease, 318 Is known to be far worse enlink'd with crime, And though at Justice bar yet unarraign'd Of treason, murder, blasphemy, or theft, May not less guilty be of crimes less gross In human estimate so deem'd alone As envy, malice, base ingratitude, Of which our laws no recognition takes, But in contempt the perpetrator leaves In sorrow sad his punishment to reap, Scorn'd by the good, and censur'd bv the wise." No ! the poor wretch is guiltless all of these, But yet convicted of a crime is he, More shocking to the proud, the thoughtless gay, Than can imagination paint, or my poor pen ponrtray, Crime of the darkest die 'tis Penury. And can it be our poor are treated thus Our poor our honest and industrious poor ; E'en when misfortune overtakes the vile, The generous grieve, and if they could would soothe ; Then how much more must Pity grieve for thee, Whose days were spent those comforts to supply Thy Fate forbade that thou shouldst ever taste ; And must thou now, worn and disabled thus, Shrink back abash'd from those for whom you toil'd / And do they now ungratefnl pass thee by, 319 And with disdainful look thy age contemn As thou offender were, and judges they assign'd. Oh, could I call those lofty domes but mine, Not long should'st thou a shelter lack ; I'd fill Its every nook with outcasts such as thee. No more condemn'd the mouldy crust to eat, Plain wholesome food should there upon thee wait ; No longer doom'd to shiver 'neath the blast, But on soft couch thy aged limbs recline. Put up thy wither'd hand and dry thy tears, Oh, how it pains my heart to see thee weep ! How wrung thy heart, it tells in language strong From slightest cause the tears from childhood's eyes Unconscious half may fall, or soon forgot In balmy slumbers sunk, or chased by smiles, But when the aged weep, then there is grief indeed But yet these drops pellucid, brother, stay, Or let me weep in unison with thee, For I, alas ! have nought but tears to give, And wishes fond to aid but bootless all ; But yet thy falling tears my brother stay, Since He, the Mighty, yet the loving One, Beholds thy miseries with a pitying eye, And the proud looks of the oppressor sees. The victim's groans, the cry of the distress'd, 320 The voice of prayers all open finds His ear ; To all He succour sends, though oft delay'd. To thee His messenger He soon shall send, Who from thy numerous ills shall set thee free, And frown on those He shall who thoughtless frown on thee. INORDINATE LOVE OF LIFE. Self-preservation, or desire to guard And keep the embers of life's flame alive, Is instinct rooted by the Almighty's hand, For purpose wise in every living thing. Thus all that live would fain that life prolong, But chief in man conspicuously appears. See, by what numerous arts he tries to save, As if the doom of nature to avert ! The aim of all his being here below. And not alone in youth, when all is new, And the glad spirit beautifies each scene, And only dreams its joyous course to steer 'Twixt verdant banks, where smoothest waters flow. And not alone in manhood's glorious prime, When strength has nerv'd his arm, and might his hand ; And, powerful to subdue, he mocks at peril, And coming danger sees without dismay. 321 E'en when disease has wasted, rack'd by pain, - Left to neglect, to penury a prey, Of friends bereft, 'mid crowds he stands alone, Without one face on his to beam a smile, Or back receive the fond response of love. When all those tendrils sweet had served to bind, Are disentwin'd, dissever'd, rudely broke ; E'en when the scanty crust that life sustains Is drawn reluctant from his fellow-worms, A niggard boon too oft bestowed with scorn, And moisten'd oft, as eat, with bitter tears ; Ere use has render'd callous to the blow. While poor defence against the coming storm, His tatter'd garment flutters in the blast, And, as the rags are rudely blown aside, His shrunken, wither'd, frame to view expose* Yea, when old age has bow'd the hoary head, And dim'd the visual orbs with film of eld, Which, looking backward through drear wastes of time, The lengthened vistas of departed years, Can nought distinctly trace ; but sees alone A mass commingl'd strange, of hopes and fears, That once with strong emotions shook his soul But now as shadows dim alone appear. Nor, in the future, can the glazing eye, On the horizon dark, one spot perceive That, brighter beaming, might his steps allure 322 To loiter longer on his painful march, Or prompt a wish he might prolong his stay. Yea, when his ear is dull'd to music's sound, That vibrate can no more to voice of song, Or thrilling accents hear of whisper'd love. E'en when his trunk-like pedestal infirm Is bent beneath the trembling weight it bears, Quivering like aspen leaf in autumn gale. For palsy long ere now had shook his frame, And fits of catarrh e'en than palsy more ; Scarce his numb'd grasp the staff retains, On which for succour and support he leans ; While pausing oft he draws his labour'd breath, As each inhal'd, a conquest were from death. Just tottering on the margin of the grave, Which yawning waits its victim to enclose, And offers from his ills a refuge sure ; And yet, this feeble, dying wretch, shall raise To heaven his wither'd hand and faltering breath, And humbly sue for yet more lengthen'd days ! Worn to a shade, the reflex of a man, Shall yet desire a more extended span ! And is it thus immortal man would show Himself superior to earth's meaner things, That thus, as they, tenaciously he clings ? To tribes irrational life is their all 223 Existence boundary, they have no more : Wise then they try that little all to save. But death to man comes in a different guise, As porter dread, by Heaven decreed, to ope For entrance wide the one appointed gate, By which his days attain an endless date. Mere common-place, you'll say, all know it true ; But, ah ! if so, how is such truth forgot ? And life, Heaven's highest gift, must we despise ? No ! nor contemn, nor view it as your all. It is, indeed, important as the point On which a dread futurity depends, Pregnant with destiny to human race ; As on its use suspended hangs our fate A dread eternity of weal or woe, Of endless grief or unimagined joy. But with regard to Time of slight account, And is usurper of a higher claim, If our attention it so much engross, The soul, our better being, else forgot ; The present made the object of our care, While scarce a thought the future we can spare. The lone one's experience and hope, The years threescore and ten life's sum decreed, 324 Are o'er a high hill stretch 'd, whose summit towers, And thus of its extent division makes. Smooth seems the mount, and easy of ascent, Which never sons of men but once may climb, Nor back return, but onwards still are urg'd, 'Till gain'd its utmost height, then down the steep Precipitous are forced their feet to bend. Some say the hither slope with flowers is strewn, But thorny its descent they all agree. But sure some adverse power my eyes had veil'd ; For I nor flowers nor vernal bloom descried, But wither'd e'er I'd time to call them mine ; And of the way scarce fourth-part had I reach'd, E'er in my path the thorns began to spring, Increasing still with each succeeding year ; And still towards the apex as I climb, They larger grow, and clouds more darkling lour. How then the steep declivity descend, When youthful vigour fled and stiff with eld, My feeble limbs beneath their burden bend, And failing spirits whisper still of fear And cause of dread, in all my soul alarms ! Saviour God ! who trode life's roughest path, Be Thou my guide, director of my way ! While led by Thee, I know all must be well, 'Though thorns should pierce and rankle in the wound, And ills in legion still my steps pursue, 325 While Death assiduous waits to claim his prey, And points ray goal where yawning stands the tomb ! Let not the terrors of that awful hour Too much my soul affiright, but calm my fears, And give firm faith to rest unmov'd in thee ; While plum'd, my hope soars far the earth beyond, And seeks a home where nought can damp her wing. God, in the dread span that intervenes, While trembles yet my soul on verge of life, And margin of the grave, mine eyes unveil ! Blindfold no more, and let me clearly see, That not a thorn has in my pathway sprung, Nor cherished flower has fad'd in my grasp, Nor ray of hope has vanish'd from my view, Nor pang of grief my heart has ever rung, Nor tear of sorrow moisten'd yet my cheek, But all for good appoint'd were by thee. But why, 'till then, should darkness so enshroud, That I thy hand should not in all behold ? Since ills that rack can but thy agents be. My fellows, then, let me forbear to blame, And view them but as instruments of thine ; E'en when the hand uplifted is to strike, Whoso'er the stroke, 'tis thine impells the blow. Of those around, their failings let me mourn, And where I can, love's mantle wide spread o'er ; Injurious words let me with calmness hear, 326 The ceaseless frown of ire with pity see ; Far from niy thoughts be rancour and revenge, And all pertains the offspring dire of hate Swift let me be to succour in distress, And still, while breath retain'd , my fellows let me bless. JOB, CHAP. IV. In the silence of night, mid darkness profound, When the wearied and toil'd from labour repose, My bosom oppress'd with a dread undefin'd, In vain to woo slumber my eyelids I close. I ope them, terrific before me appears A shadow, majestic, high-towering and vast ; It stood, yet its outlines I could not discern, But knew that a spirit before me had past. Overwhelm'd with affright, with horror appall'd, On that image of dread awe- stricken I gaze ; While my hair seems to rise, my bones loosely shake, My eyeballs nigh starting in wild of amaze. Then still as the silence preceding the storm, More solemn these accents fall dread on my ear 327 '" Shall a creature polluted of purity boast ? Shall man than his God more righteous appear ? The hosts e'en of heaven, angelic and bright, Did he cease to support, in duty must fail ; Then his trust how repose in the beings of earth, That more in his service their strength should avail ? The children of dust in their houses of clay As frail as the moth on its light downy wings Arise in the morn, are cut down ere the eve, And soon are forgot as the meanest of things. They cease from the earth, unregard'd their doom, Unremember'd the wisdom late was their boast ; Their excellence perish'd for ever and aye, Their name and their memory for ever is lost." NOTES. NOTES. (1.) p. 69. Whether to the saline particles with which it is so largely impregnated, or to the incessant motion of its waters, we owe the continued vitality of the ocean, was for ages to philoso- phers a matter of disputation. The question now appears to be for ever set at rest. Modern experience having proved that whatever other advantages the ocean may derive from its saltness such as a less liability to freeze and an increase of buoyancy it could not, were motion to cease, preserve it from a total stagnation, nor its bed from becoming a recep- tacle of corruption. Mariners, who have been becalmed in tropical seas, give an appalling account of the state to which the waters of the ocean are reduced by a brief period of quiescence. Creatures of the most hideous forms, and of a jelly consistence, the proceeds of putrefaction, disgusting the eye, while the olfactory nerves are assailed by the most offensive odours. Tides, currents, winds, tempests, and hurricanes, by induc- ing a continual agitation, seem to be all essential in order to keep the ocean flood in a healthy condition. (2.) p. 69. Trade winds, or monsoons, as they are sometimes called, prevail constantly in certain latitudes : that they did so was 332 long known. The cause is of more recent discovery, if that theory can be so termed which has the greatest amount of probability in its favour. This appears to be the explanation of the phenomenon. In those regions in which the sun is vertical the air becomes rarified in an extreme degree. The rarified air having a tendency to ascend, must thus produce a vacuum still following the great luminary in his diurnal motion, while to fill this the cold air constanty rushing in must thus cause an incessant current of air in those latitudes in which the sun is perpendicular to the earth's surface : but whether it is so or not there can be no question of their utility to man in a commercial point of view. (3.) p. 70. To account for the phenomena of waterspouts has employed the ingenuity of many ; but. though they have been often seen and frequently described, their origen is yet as much a mystery as ever. When first seen, they generally appear as hollow tubes of various degrees of thickness and altitude, through which the water is seen to ascend in a spiral motion. The columns enlarge and move over the face of the deep with a greater or lesser degree of velocity, according as the wind is high or low. At length they break, when the water they contained is heard to descend with the noise of a cataract. Should they happen to break perpendicular to a vessel, there must be the most imminent danger of destruction ; but skilful seamen, foreseeing the peril, fire, and frequently succeed in breaking them while yet at a distance, with a gun charged with a bar of iron. 333 (4.) p. 70. Whirlwinds are to the land what waterspouts are to the si-a, with the great difference that waterspouts are sometimes beheld when there is calmness in the air and stillness on the deep, while whirlwinds appear to arise from the convergence of air currents from opposite directions converging to one poiut, forming a sort of funnel through which all things sub- jected to their fury are made to arise in a circular motion, to be again scattered in fragments on the ground. One of the most dreadful on record appears to be that which took place in Carolina, on the 1st of June, 1761, which is described as having been 300 feet in diameter. Trees were torn up by the roots, houses levelled with the ground, and a thousand pounds worth of property destroyed in the space of three minutes. Whirlwinds and tornadoes seem to be allied, and are both preceded by the same symptoms an awful stillness in the air, a closeness and mistiness in the atmosphere, through which the sun is descried of a crimson colour ; the stars ap- pear turgid, while nature wears a face of universal gloom. All animated beings appear to experience peculiar sensations, which, as forerunners of its approach, tell them to seek for safety by shelter or in flight. Nothing can be more terrifi- cally grand than those outbreaks of tiature, where all the elements appear as at once engaged in war, more especially in those regions peculiarly liable to their recurrence. It is this liability which renders about a thousand miles on the coast of Africa unnavigable. 334 (5.) p. 70. Sameyel is a wind occasionally found to prevail along the Persian Gulf, some parts of India, the Negropatam, Muslipatam, and Peterpoli, so inevitably fatal to those who are exposed to its influence, that none hitherto have escaped to tell in what its malignity consists. (6.) p. 71. There have been many theories formed with a view to ac- count for the irregularities on the earth's surface, and many reasons, more or less ingenious, have been assigned as the cause of those upheavings, which are more particularly deno- minated mountains. To these it has been pertinently observed, that all the elevation on the surface of the globe are as no- thing compared with its magnitude. Some have wondered why those who are so curious as to the heights should not be equally inquisitive as to the depressions on the surface of this our sphere. While others have been contented to point out the advantages we derive from the inequality, one of the most important they allege to be the kindly interposition which their summits offer to the transit of those vapours which are constantly arising from the waters, which cover so large a por- tion of the earth's surface. The rains and vapours being thus arrested, are thence conveyed to reservoirs prepared for their reception. When these conservatories are filled, they bubble forth as clear fountains or transparent rills, which, increasing in their flow, spread fertility over the land, and at length be- come those mighty rivers, the highways of trade, the channels of commerce, and a means of diffusing the blessings of civili- zation over the earth. 335 (7.) P . 71. To meet with blooming and fertile spots amid sterile heights, many thousand feet above the level of the sea, must at first view create some little surprise ; but the wonder diminishes, when it is considered that the surrounding heights serve as towering walls, from which the sun's rays are reflected with such intensity, as to give a high degree of temperature to the inclosed space, while they shield from the storms and tempests incidental to mountainous regions. (8.) p. 72. Thunder is now known to be the sound produced by the collision of clouds charged with positive and negative elec- tricity in opposition ; the flash, the emission of their con, tents in the conflict. The rattling noise, its most general ac- companiment, is supposed to proceed from the agitation of the air passing from clouds overhanging one another, continued by the echo reverberating among them, and the inequalities of the earth over which they pass. (9.) p. 74. In order to account for the phenomenon in question, many theories have been formed, all more or less liable to objection, some strenuously insisting that evaporation is sufficient to counterbalance the influx of all the streams which thither flow. Others insist that in all, as in the Mediterranean, there are under-currents, which carry away the superfluous waters as quickly from below as they increase from above ; while 336 many allege, that both the evaporation and under-currents are necessary in order to keep up an equilibrium in those bodies of water which serve as the receptacles for rivers so mighty and vast as are there known to loose their indivi- duality, have their exit, and end. (10.) p. 86. To mention all the hypothesises that have been formed to account for these dreadful phenomena would be a very un- profitable task. Subterranean fires, water in a state of ebul- lition, collections of inflammable matter in the bowels of the earth have, in the shape of specious theories, been advanced as solutions, and have all in turn found zealous supporters. Electricity, the last, appears to have the greatest share of pro- bability in its form it being granted that the earth is per- vaded by the same subtile fluid as the heavens above, it must, when the equilibrium is disturbed, explode in the same manner, that is, when such obstructions are thrown in its way as to prevent the superfluous quantity from making its escape by the ocean, or such mountain tops in the vicinity as are in a state of volcanic action. Some ingenious persons, on a supposition of the truthfulness of this theory, have racked their inventive powers, in order to invent a mode of conduct- ing the electric fluid to places where it might discharge itself in safety, in the same manner as conducting-rods serve as roadways for the passage of the electric current from the skies. An Italian, it was lately asserted, had sncceeded ; but whether or not, he whose efforts success should crown, could not fail to be regarded as the benefactor of his race. To give instances of the devastating power of earthquakes, 337 when the writer can add nothing new to the details already furnished by others, is to fill paper to little purpose. That which happened in Calabria in 1638, appears to have been one of the most destructive of which we have record, forty thousand persons are then said to have perished. That which occurred at Port Royal, Jamaica, in 1672, was little less so, thirty thousand having lost their lives in the course of two minutes. The more general one of 1705 but of which the most dreadful effects were experienced at Lisbon was suf- ficiently awful. Amongst many more horrible effects produced by its progress, a new quay, with many hundreds of persons who had there taken refuge, was swallowed up, and buried at so great a depth, that their bodies were never more seen. In short, of earthquakes it may be alleged, that a liability to their recurrence is in itself sufficient to render nugatory all the attractions with which tropical regions are endowed. (11.) p. 98. The coincidence between the sentiment expressed in the song by , and that contained in these lines, is so great, it were difficult to believe a plagiarism had not been in this instance committed, were it not from the impossibility of copying what had not been previously brought under notice; the song in question having been met with for the first time, many months after these lines had been written. (12.) p. 200. The " Melancholy Bird." Milton. (13.) p. 235. " Where is my child, let the waves answer where." Byron. 338 (14.) p. 238. The Solatium Ovigerum. A plant of which there are many species, the greater number indigenous to the East and West Indies. This derives its name from the resem- blance which its fruit, in its properties, bears to an egg. (15.) p. 286. "Amongst the officers wounded at the late siege of Moultan, we observe the name of Captain R. Disnay Leith, of the 1st Bombay Fusileers, second son of Lieutenant-General Sir Alex. Leith. He was the first man who surmounted the breach ; and his gigantic stature (for he is nearly six feet and a-half), as well as the prominent place he occupied in the advance, at once marked him as the target of a hundred firelocks. A Sikh swordsman placed above him on the wall lopped off his arm at a single blow ; with his other arm, he not only cut down his assailant, but cleaved a second adversary to the teeth. A bullet meanwhile had struck him in the shoulder, and lodged in above the elbow ; this, at length, disabled him, and he was rescued by his men. He is the son of a dis- tinguished Peninsular officer, Lieut.-General Sir Alexander Leith of Freefield, Aberdeenshire, well known in the army of Wellington by the name of ' Cauld Steel,' having, like his son, a partiality for meeting the foe at the closest possible quarters." Bombay Times, 1849. KRKATA. Pae 50, for stonecroft read stonecrop 72, ii not nor 83, ,, tenure tenour 95, .. Do. Do. 97, ., . Do. D,,. 112, Do. Do. 139, ,, meadow meadows 171. ,, bright'd brighter 159, tenure tenour 175, Do. Do. 262, .. On a' sweet Syue time on Deveronside Deveronside 272, ,, magnificent 's ,, magnificence A P. E K 1) E E X : PRINTED It Y VV. B K X X K T T. 42, CASTLE STKEET. 1C SOUTHERN REGIONAL UBRARY FACILITY A 000023942 6