Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, POSTHUMOUS TALES: TALE 3. EQUAL MARRIAGE, by GEORGE CRABBE


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POSTHUMOUS TALES: TALE 3. EQUAL MARRIAGE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: There are gay nymphs whom serious matrons blame
Last Line: Both seeking -- catching both, and caught!
Subject(s): Marriage; Weddings; Husbands; Wives


THERE are gay nymphs whom serious matrons blame,
And men adventurous treat as lawful game, --
Misses, who strive, with deep and practised arts,
To gain and torture inexperienced hearts;
The hearts entangled they in pride retain,
And at their pleasure make them feel their chain:
For this they learn to manage air and face,
To look a virtue, and to act a grace,
To be whatever men with warmth pursue --
Chaste, gay, retiring, tender, timid, true,
To-day approaching near, to-morrow just in view.
Maria Glossip was a thing like this --
A much observing, much experienced Miss;
Who on a stranger-youth would first decide
Th' important question -- 'Shall I be his bride?'
But if unworthy of a lot so bless'd,
'Twas something yet to rob the man of rest;
The heart, when stricken, she with hope could feed,
Could court pursuit, and, when pursued, recede.
Hearts she had won, and with delusion fed,
With doubt bewilder'd, and with hope misled;
Mothers and rivals she had made afraid,
And wrung the breast of many a jealous maid;
Friendship, the snare of lovers, she profess'd,
And turn'd the heart's best feelings to a jest.
Yet seem'd the Nymph as gentle as a dove,
Like one all guiltless of the game of love, --
Whose guileless innocence might well be gay;
Who had no selfish secrets to betray;
Sure, if she play'd, she knew not how to play.
Oh! she had looks so placid and demure,
Not Eve, ere fallen, seem'd more meek or pure;
And yet the Tempter of the falling Eve
Could not with deeper subtilty deceive.
A Sailor's heart the Lady's kindness moved,
And winning looks, to say how well he loved;
Then left her hopeful for the stormy main,
Assured of love when he return'd again.
Alas! the gay Lieutenant reach'd the shore,
To be rejected, and was gay no more;
Wine and strong drink the bosom's pain suppress'd,
Till Death procured, what Love denied him -- rest.
But men of more experience learn to treat
These fair enslavers with their own deceit.
Finch was a younger brother's youngest son,
Who pleased an Uncle with his song and gun;
Who call'd him 'Bob,' and 'Captain' -- by that name
Anticipating future rank and fame:
Not but there was for this some fair pretence --
He was a cornet in the Home Defence.
The Youth was ever drest in dapper style,
Wore spotless linen, and a ceaseless smile;
His step was measured, and his air was nice --
They bought him high, who had him at the price
That his own judgment and becoming pride,
And all the merit he assumed, implied.
A life he loved of liberty and ease,
And all his pleasant labour was to please;
Not call'd at present hostile men to slay,
He made the hearts of gentle dames his prey.
Hence tales arose, and one of sad report --
A fond, fair girl became his folly's sport, --
A cottage lass, who 'knew the youth would prove
For ever true, and give her love for love;
Sure when he could, and that would soon be known,
He would be proud to show her as his own.'
But still she felt the village damsels' sneer,
And her sad soul was fill'd with secret fear;
His love excepted, earth was all a void,
And he, the excepted man, her peace destroy'd.
When the poor Jane was buried, we could hear
The threat of rustics whisper'd round her bier.
Stories like this were told, but yet, in time
Fair ladies lost their horror at the crime;
They knew that cottage girls were forward things,
Who never heed a nettle till it stings;
Then, too, the Captain had his fault confess'd,
And scorn'd to turn a murder to a jest.
Away with murder! -- This accomplish'd swain
Beheld Maria, and confess'd her reign --
She came, invited by the rector's wife,
Who 'never saw such sweetness in her life.'
Now, as the rector was the Uncle's friend,
It pleased the Nephew there his steps to bend,
Where the fair damsel then her visit paid,
And seem'd an unassuming rustic maid:
A face so fair, a look so meek, he found
Had pierced that heart, no other nymph could wound.
'Oh, sweet Maria' -- so began the Youth
His meditations -- 'thine the simple truth!
Thou hast no wicked wisdom of thy sex,
No wish to gain a subject-heart -- then vex.
That heavenly bosom no proud passion swells,
No serpent's wisdom with thy meekness dwells;
Oh! could I bind thee to my heart, and live
In love with thee, on what our fortunes give!
Far from the busy world, in some dear spot,
Where Love reigns king, we'd find some peaceful cot.
To wed, indeed, no prudent man would choose;
But, such a maid will lighter bonds refuse!'
And was this youth a rake? -- In very truth;
Yet, feeling love, he felt it as a youth;
If he had vices, they were laid aside;
He quite forgot the simple girl who died;
With dear Maria he in peace would live,
And what had pass'd -- Maria would forgive.
The fair Coquette at first was pleased to find
A swain so knowing had become so blind;
And she determined, with her utmost skill,
To bind the rebel to her sovereign will.
She heard the story of the old deceit,
And now resolved he should with justice meet; --
'Soon as she saw him on her hook secure,
He should the pangs of perjured man endure.'
These her first thoughts -- but as, from time to time,
The Lover came, she dwelt not on his crime --
'Crime could she call it? prudes, indeed, condemn
These slips of youth -- but she was not of them.'
So gentler thoughts arose as, day by day,
The Captain came his passion to display.
When he display'd his passion, and she felt,
Not without fear, her heart began to melt --
Joy came with terror at a state so new;
Glad of his truth; if he indeed were true!
This she decided as the heart decides,
Resolved to be the happiest of brides.
'Not great my fortune -- hence,' said she, ''tis plain,
Me, and not mine, dear Youth! he hopes to gain;
Nor has he much; but, as he sweetly talks,
We from our cot shall have delightful walks,
Love, lord within it! I shall smile to see
My little cherubs on the father's knee.'
Then sigh'd the nymph, and in her fancied lot,
She all the mischiefs of the past forgot.
Such were their tender meditations; thus
Would they the visions of the day discuss:
Each, too, the old sad habits would no more
Indulge; both dare be virtuous and be poor.
They both had past the year when law allows
Free-will to lover who would fain be spouse:
Yet the good youth his Uncle's sanction sought --
'Marry her, Bob! and are you really caught?
Then you've exchanged, I warrant, heart for heart --
'Tis well! I meant to warn her of your art:
This Parson's Babe has made you quite a fool --
But are you sure your ardour will not cool?
Have you not habits, Boy? but take your chance!
How will you live? I cannot much advance.
But hear you not what through the village flies,
That this your dove is famed for her disguise?
Yet, say they not, she leads a gayish life?
Art sure she'll show the virtues of a wife?' --
'Oh, Sir, she's all that mortal man can love!' --
'Then marry, Bob! and that the fact will prove --
Yet in a kind of lightness, folk agree.' --
'Lightness in her! indeed, it cannot be --
'Tis Innocence alone that makes her manners free.'
'Well, my good friend! then Innocence alone
Is to a something like Flirtation prone;
And I advise -- but let me not offend --
That Prudence should on Innocence attend,
Lest some her sportive purity mistake,
And term your angel more than half a rake.'
The Nymph, now sure, could not entirely curb
The native wish her lover to disturb.
Oft he observed her, and could ill endure
The gentle coquetry of maid so pure:
Men he beheld press round her, and the Fair
Caught every sigh, and smiled at every prayer;
And grieved he was with jealous pains to see
The effects of all her wit and pleasantry.
'Yet why alarm'd?' -- he said; 'with so much sense,
She has no freedom, dashing, or pretence:
'Tis her gay mind, and I should feel a pride
In her chaste levities' -- he said, and sigh'd.
Yet, when apart from company, he chose
To talk a little of his bosom's woes --
But one sweet smile, and one soft speech, suppress'd
All pain, and set his feeling heart at rest.
Nay, in return, she felt, or feign'd, a fear,
'He was too lively to be quite sincere --
She knew a certain lady, and could name
A certain time' -- So, even was the blame,
And thus the loving pair more deep in love became.
They married soon -- for why delay the thing
That such amazing happiness would bring? --
Now of that blissful state, O Muse of Hymen! sing.
Love dies all kinds of death: in some so quick
It comes -- he is not previously sick;
But ere the sun has on the couple shed
The morning rays, the smile of Love is fled.
And what the cause? for Love should not expire,
And none the reason of such fate require.
Both had a mask, that with such pains they wore,
Each took it off when it avail'd no more.
They had no feeling of each other's pain;
To wear it longer had been crime in vain.
As in some pleasant eve we view the scene,
Though cool yet calm, if joyless yet serene, --
Who has not felt a quiet still delight
In the clear, silent, love-befriending night?
The moon so sweetly bright, so softly fair,
That all but happy lovers would be there, --
Thinking there must be in her still domain
Something that soothes the sting of mortal pain;
While earth itself is dress'd in light so clear,
That they might rest contented to be here!
Such is the night; but when the morn awakes,
The storm arises, and the forest shakes;
This mighty change the grieving travellers find,
The freezing snows fast drifting in the wind;
Firs deeply laden shake the snowy top,
Streams slowly freezing, fretting till they stop;
And void of stars the angry clouds look down
On the cold earth, exchanging frown with frown.
Such seem'd, at first, the cottage of our pair --
Fix'd in their fondness, in their prospects fair;
Youth, health, affection, all that life supplies,
Bright as the stars that gild the cloudless skies,
Were theirs -- or seem'd to be, but soon the scene
Was black as if its light had never been.
Weary full soon, and restless then they grew,
Then off the painful mask of prudence threw,
For Time has told them all; and taught them what to rue.
They long again to tread the former round
Of dissipation -- 'Why should he be bound,
While his sweet inmate of the cottage sighs
For adulation, rout, and rhapsodies?
Not Love himself, did love exist, could lead
A heart like hers, that flutter'd to be freed.'
But Love, or what seem'd like him, quickly died,
Nor Prudence, nor Esteem, his place supplied.
Disguise thrown off, each reads the other's heart,
And feels with horror that they cannot part.
Still they can speak -- and 'tis some comfort still,
That each can vex the other when they will:
Words half in jest to words in earnest led,
And these the earnest angry passions fed,
Till all was fierce reproach, and peace for ever fled.
'And so you own it! own it to my face,
Your love is vanish'd -- infamous and base!'
'Madam, I loved you truly, while I deem'd
You were the truthful being that you seem'd;
But when I see your native temper rise
Above control, and break through all disguise,
Casting it off, as serpents do their skin,
And showing all the folds of vice within, --
What see I then to love? was I in love with Sin?' --
'So may I think, and you may feel it too;
A loving couple, Sir, were Sin and you!
Whence all this anger? is it that you find
You cannot always make a woman blind?
You talk of falsehood and disguise -- talk on!
But all my trust and confidence are gone;
Remember you, with what a serious air
You talk'd of love, as if you were at prayer?
You spoke of home-born comforts, quiet, ease,
And the pure pleasure, that must always please,
With an assumed and sentimental air,
Smiting your breast, and acting like a player.
Then your life's comfort! and your holy joys!
Holy, forsooth! and your sweet girls and boys,
How you would train them! -- All this farce review,
And then, Sir, talk of being just and true!' --
'Madam! your sex expects that ours should lie:
The simple creatures know it, and comply.
You hate the truth; there's nothing you despise
Like a plain man, who spurns your vanities.
Are you not early taught your prey to catch?
When your mammas pronounce -- "A proper match!"
What said your own? -- "Do, daughter! curb your tongue,
And you may win him, for the man is young;
But if he views you as ourselves, good-by
To speculation! -- He will never try."
'Then is the mask assumed, and then you bait
Your hook with kindness! and as anglers wait,
Now here, now there, with keen and eager glance,
Marking your victims as the shoals advance;
When, if the gaping wretch should make a snap,
You jerk him up, and have him in your trap,
Who gasping, panting, in your presence lies,
And you exulting view the imprison'd prize.
'Such are your arts! while he did but intend,
In harmless play an idle hour to spend,
Lightly to talk of love! your fix'd intent
Is on to lure him, where he never meant
To go, but going, must his speed repent.
If he of Cupid speaks, you watch your man,
And make a change for Hymen, if you can;
Thus he, ingenuous, easy, fond, and weak,
Speaks the rash words he has been led to speak;
Puts the dire question that he meant to shun,
And by a moment's frenzy is undone.' --
'Well!' said the Wife, 'admit this nonsense true, --
A mighty prize she gains in catching you;
For my part, Sir, I most sincerely wish
My landing-net had miss'd my precious fish!' --
'Would that it had! or I had wisely lent
An ear to those who said I should repent.' --
'Hold, Sir! at least my reputation spare,
And add another falsehood if you dare.' --
'Your reputation, Madam! -- rest secure,
That will all scandal and reproach endure,
And be the same in worth: it is like him
Who floats, but finds he cannot sink or swim;
Half raised above the storm, half sunk below,
It just exists, and that is all we know.
Such the good name that you so much regard,
And yet to keep afloat find somewhat hard.
Nay, no reply! in future I decline
Dispute, and take my way.' --
'And I, Sir, mine.'
Oh! happy, happy, happy pair! both sought,
Both seeking -- catching both, and caught!





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