Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TALES OF THE HALL: BOOK 7. THE ELDER BROTHER, by GEORGE CRABBE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TALES OF THE HALL: BOOK 7. THE ELDER BROTHER, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Thanks, my dear richard; and, I pray thee, deign
Last Line: Sees through receding clouds the rising good.'


'THANKS, my dear Richard; and, I pray thee, deign
To speak the truth -- does all this love remain,
And all this joy? for views and flights sublime,
Ardent and tender, are subdued by time.
Speaks't thou of her to whom thou mad'st thy vows,
Of my fair sister, of thy lawful spouse?
Or art thou talking some frail love about,
The rambling fit, before th' abiding gout?'
'Nay, spare me, Brother, an adorer spare:
Love and the gout! thou wouldst not these compare?'
'Yea, and correctly; teasing ere they come,
They then confine their victim to his home:
In both are previous feints and false attacks,
Both place the grieving patient on their racks:
They both are ours, with all they bring, for life,
'Tis not in us t' expel or gout or wife;
On man a kind of dignity they shed,
A sort of gloomy pomp about his bed:
Then if he leaves them, go where'er he will,
They have a claim upon his body still;
Nay, when they quit him, as they sometimes do,
What is there left t' enjoy or to pursue? --
But dost thou love this woman?'
'O! beyond
What I can tell thee of the true and fond:
Hath she not soothed me, sick, enrich'd me, poor,
And banish'd death and misery from my door?
Has she not cherish'd every moment's bliss,
And made an Eden of a world like this?
When Care would strive with us his watch to keep,
Has she not sung the snarling fiend to sleep?
And when Distress has look'd us in the face,
Has she not told him, "thou art not Disgrace?"'
'I must behold her, Richard; I must see
This patient spouse who sweetens misery --
But didst thou need, and wouldst thou not apply? --
Nay, thou wert right -- but then how wrong was I!'
'My indiscretion was -- --'
'No more repeat;
Would I were nothing worse than indiscreet; --
But still there is a plea that I could bring,
Had I the courage to describe the thing.'
'Then thou too, Brother, couldst of weakness tell;
Thou, too, hast found the wishes that rebel
Against the sovereign reason; at some time
Thou hast been fond, heroic, and sublime;
Wrote verse, it may be, and for one dear maid
The sober purposes of life delay'd;
From year to year the fruitless chase pursued,
And hung enamour'd o'er the flying good:
Then be thy weakness to a Brother shown,
And give him comfort who displays his own.'
'Ungenerous youth! dost thou presuming ask
A man so grave his failings to unmask?
What if I tell thee of a waste of time,
That on my spirit presses as a crime,
Wilt thou despise me? -- I, who, soaring, fell
So late to rise -- Hear then the tale I tell;
Who tells what thou shalt hear, esteems his hearer well.

'Yes, my dear Richard, thou shalt hear me own
Follies and frailties thou hast never known;
Thine was a frailty, -- folly, if you please, --
But mine a flight, a madness, a disease.
'Turn with me to my twentieth year, for then
The lover's frenzy ruled the poet's pen;
When virgin reams were soil'd with lays of love,
The flinty hearts of fancied nymphs to move:
Then was I pleased in lonely ways to tread,
And muse on tragic tales of lovers dead;
For all the merit I could then descry
In man or woman was for love to die.
'I mused on charmers chaste, who pledged their truth,
And left no more the once-accepted youth;
Though he disloyal, lost, diseased, became,
The widow'd turtle's was a deathless flame:
This faith, this feeling, gave my soul delight,
Truth in the lady, ardour in the knight.
'I built me castles wondrous rich and rare,
Few castle-builders could with me compare;
The hall, the palace, rose at my command,
And these I fill'd with objects great and grand.
Virtues sublime, that nowhere else would live,
Glory and pomp, that I alone could give;
Trophies and thrones by matchless valour gain'd,
Faith unreproved, and chastity unstain'd;
With all that soothes the sense and charms the soul,
Came at my call, and were in my control.
'And who was I? a slender youth and tall,
In manner awkward, and with fortune small;
With visage pale, my motions quick and slow,
That fall and rising in the spirits show;
For none could more by outward signs express
What wise men lock within the mind's recess;
Had I a mirror set before my view,
I might have seen what such a form could do;
Had I within the mirror truth beheld,
I should have such presuming thoughts repell'd;
But awkward as I was, without the grace
That gives new beauty to a form or face;
Still I expected friends most true to prove,
And grateful, tender, warm, assiduous love.
'Assured of this, that love's delicious bond
Would hold me ever faithful, ever fond;
It seem'd but just that I in love should find
A kindred heart as constant and as kind.
Give me, I cried, a beauty; none on earth
Of higher rank or nobler in her birth;
Pride of her race, her father's hope and care,
Yet meek as children of the cottage are;
Nursed in the court, and there by love pursued,
But fond of peace, and blest in solitude;
By rivals honour'd, and by beauties praised,
Yet all unconscious of the envy raised;
Suppose her this, and from attendants freed,
To want my prowess in a time of need,
When safe and grateful she desires to show
She feels the debt that she delights to owe,
And loves the man who saved her in distress --
So fancy will'd, nor would compound for less.
'This was my dream. -- In some auspicious hour,
In some sweet solitude, in some green bower,
Whither my fate should lead me, there, unseen,
I should behold my fancy's gracious queen,
Singing sweet song! that I should hear awhile,
Then catch the transient glory of a smile;
Then at her feet with trembling hope should kneel,
Such as rapt saints and raptured lovers feel;
To watch the chaste unfoldings of her heart,
In joy to meet, in agony to part,
And then in tender song to soothe my grief,
And hail, in glorious rhyme, my Lady of the Leaf.
'To dream these dreams I chose a woody scene,
My guardian-shade, the world and me between;
A green inclosure, where beside its bound
A thorny fence beset its beauties round,
Save where some creature's force had made a way
For me to pass, and in my kingdom stray:
Here then I stray'd, then sat me down to call,
Just as I will'd, my shadowy subjects all!
Fruits of all minds conceived on every coast,
Fay, witch, enchanter, devil, demon, ghost;
And thus with knights and nymphs, in halls and bowers,
In war and love, I pass'd unnumber'd hours:
Gross and substantial beings all forgot,
Ideal glories beam'd around the spot,
And all that was, with me, of this poor world was not.
'Yet in this world there was a single scene,
That I allow'd with mine to intervene;
This house, where never yet my feet had stray'd,
I with respect and timid awe survey'd;
With pleasing wonder I have oft-times stood,
To view these turrets rising o'er the wood;
When fancy to the halls and chambers flew,
Large, solemn, silent, that I must not view;
The moat was then, and then o'er all the ground
Tall elms and ancient oaks stretch'd far around;
And where the soil forbad the nobler race,
Dwarf trees and humbler shrubs had found their place,
Forbidding man in their close hold to go,
Haw, gatter, holm, the service and the sloe;
With tangling weeds that at the bottom grew,
And climbers all above their feathery branches threw.
Nor path of man or beast was there espied,
But there the birds of darkness loved to hide,
The loathed toad to lodge, and speckled snake to glide.
'To me this hall, thus view'd in part, appear'd
A mansion vast. I wonder'd, and I fear'd;
There as I wander'd, fancy's forming eye
Could gloomy cells and dungeons dark espy;
Winding through these, I caught th' appalling sound
Of troubled souls, that guilty minds confound,
Where murder made its way, and mischief stalk'd around.
Above the roof were raised the midnight storms,
And the wild lights betray'd the shadowy forms.
'With all these flights and fancies, then so dear,
I reach'd the birth-day of my twentieth year:
And in the evening of a day in June
Was singing -- as I sang -- some heavenly tune;
My native tone, indeed, was harsh and hoarse,
But he who feels such powers can sing of course --
Is there a good on earth, or gift divine,
That fancy cannot say, behold! 'tis mine?
'So was I singing, when I saw descend
From this old seat a lady and her friend;
Downward they came with steady pace and slow,
Arm link'd in arm, to bless my world below.
I knew not yet if they escaped, or chose
Their own free way, -- if they had friends or foes, --
But near to my dominion drew the pair,
Link'd arm in arm, and walk'd, conversing, there.
'I saw them ere they came, myself unseen,
My lofty fence and thorny bound between --
And one alone, one matchless face I saw,
And, though at distance, felt delight and awe:
Fancy and truth adorn'd her; fancy gave
Much, but not all; truth help'd to make their slave;
For she was lovely, all was not the vain
Or sickly homage of a fever'd brain;
No! she had beauty, such as they admire
Whose hope is earthly, and whose love desire;
Imagination might her aid bestow,
But she had charms that only truth could show.
'Their dress was such as well became the place,
But one superior; hers the air, the grace,
The condescending looks, that spoke the nobler race.
Slender she was and tall: her fairy-feet
Bore her right onward to my shady seat;
And O! I sigh'd that she would nobly dare
To come, nor let her friend th' adventure share;
But see how I in my dominion reign,
And never wish to view the world again.
'Thus was I musing, seeing with my eyes
These objects, with my mind her fantasies,
And chiefly thinking -- is this maid, divine
As she appears, to be this queen of mine?
Have I from henceforth beauty in my view,
Not airy all, but tangible and true?
Here then I fix, here bound my vagrant views,
And here devote my heart, my time, my muse.
'She saw not this, though ladies early trace
Their beauty's power, the glories of their face;
Yet knew not this fair creature -- could not know --
That new-born love! that I too soon must show:
And I was musing -- how shall I begin?
How make approach my unknown way to win,
And to that heart, as yet untouch'd, make known
The wound, the wish, the weakness of my own?
Such is my part, but -- -- Mercy! what alarm?
Dare aught on earth that sovereign beauty harm?
Again -- the shrieking charmers -- how they rend
The gentle air -- -- The shriekers lack a friend --
They are my princess and th' attendant maid
In so much danger, and so much afraid! --
But whence the terror? -- Let me haste and see
What has befallen them who cannot flee --
Whence can the peril rise? What can the peril be?
'It soon appear'd, that while this nymph divine
Moved on, there met her rude uncivil kine,
Who knew her not -- the damsel was not there
Who kept them -- all obedient -- in her care;
Strangers they thus defied and held in scorn,
And stood in threat'ning posture, hoof and horn;
While Susan -- pail in hand -- could stand the while
And prate with Daniel at a distant stile.
'As feeling prompted, to the place I ran,
Resolved to save the maids and show the man:
Was each a cow like that which challenged Guy,
I had resolved t' attack it, and defy
In mortal combat! to repel or die.
That was no time to parley -- or to say,
I will protect you -- fly in peace away!
Lo! yonder stile -- but with an air of grace,
As I supposed, I pointed to the place.
'The fair ones took me at my sign, and flew,
Each like a dove, and to the stile withdrew;
Where safe, at distance, and from terrors free,
They turn'd to view my beastly foes and me.
'I now had time my business to behold,
And did not like it -- let the truth be told.:
The cows, though cowards, yet in numbers strong,
Like other mobs, by might defended wrong;
In man's own pathway fix'd, they seem'd disposed
For hostile measure, and in order closed,
Then halted near me, as I judged, to treat,
Before we came to triumph or defeat.
'I was in doubt: 'twas sore disgrace, I knew,
To turn my back, and let the cows pursue;
And should I rashly mortal strife begin,
'Twas all unknown who might the battle win;
And yet to wait, and neither fight nor fly,
Would mirth create, -- I could not that deny;
It look'd as if for safety I would treat,
Nay, sue for peace -- No! rather come defeat!
"Look to me, loveliest of thy sex! and give
One cheering glance, and not a cow shall live;
For lo! this iron bar, this strenuous arm,
And those dear eyes to aid me as a charm."
'Say, goddess! Victory! say, on man or cow
Meanest thou now to perch? -- On neither now --
For, as I ponder'd, on their way appear'd
The Amazonian milker of the herd;
These, at the wonted signals, made a stand,
And woo'd the nymph of the relieving hand;
Nor heeded now the man, who felt relief
Of other kind, and not unmix'd with grief;
For now he neither should his courage prove,
Nor in his dying moments boast his love.
'My sovereign beauty with amazement saw --
So she declared -- the horrid things in awe;
Well pleased, she witness'd what respect was paid
By such brute natures -- Every cow afraid,
And kept at distance by the powers of one,
Who had to her a dangerous service done,
That prudence had declined, that valour's self might shun.
'So thought the maid, who now, beyond the stile,
Received her champion with a gracious smile;
Who now had leisure on those charms to dwell,
That he could never from his thought expel;
There are, I know, to whom a lover seems,
Praising his mistress, to relate his dreams;
But, Richard, looks like those, that angel-face
Could I no more in sister-angel trace;
O! it was more than fancy! it was more
Than in my darling views I saw before,
When I my idol made, and my allegiance swore.
'Henceforth 'twas bliss upon that face to dwell,
Till every trace became indelible;
I bless'd the cause of that alarm, her fright,
And all that gave me favour in her sight,
Who then was kind and grateful, till my mind,
Pleased and exulting, awe awhile resign'd.
For in the moment when she feels afraid,
How kindly speaks the condescending maid;
She sees her danger near, she wants her lover's aid;
As fire electric, when discharged, will strike
All who receive it, and they feel alike,
So in the shock of danger and surprise
Our minds are struck, and mix, and sympathise.
'But danger dies, and distance comes between
My state and that of my all glorious queen;
Yet much was done -- upon my mind a chain
Was strongly fix'd, and likely to remain;
Listening, I grew enamour'd of the sound,
And felt to her my very being bound;
I bless'd the scene, nor felt a power to move,
Lost in the ecstacies of infant-love.
'She saw and smiled; the smile delight convey'd,
My love encouraged, and my act repaid:
In that same smile I read the charmer meant
To give her hero chaste encouragement;
It spoke, as plainly as a smile can speak,
"Seek whom you love, love freely whom you seek."
'Thus, when the lovely witch had wrought her charm,
She took th' attendant maiden by the arm,
And left me fondly gazing, till no more
I could the shade of that dear form explore;
Then to my secret haunt I turn'd again,
Fire in my heart, and fever in my brain;
That face of her for ever in my view,
Whom I was henceforth fated to pursue,
To hope I knew not what, small hope in what I knew.
'O! my dear Richard, what a waste of time
Gave I not thus to lunacy sublime;
What days, months, years (to useful purpose lost),
Has not this dire infatuation cost?
To this fair vision I, a bounded slave,
Time, duty, credit, honour, comfort, gave;
Gave all -- and waited for the glorious things
That hope expects, but fortune never brings.
Yet let me own, while I my fault reprove,
There is one blessing still affix'd to love --
To love like mine -- for, as my soul it drew
From reason's path, it shunn'd dishonour's too;
It made my taste refined, my feelings nice,
And placed an angel in the way of vice.
'This angel now, whom I no longer view'd,
Far from this scene her destined way pursued;
No more that mansion held a form so fair,
She was away, and beauty was not there.
'Such, my dear Richard, was my early flame,
My youthful frenzy -- give it either name;
It was the withering bane of many a year,
That past away in causeless hope and fear;
The hopes, the fears, that every dream could kill,
Or make alive, and lead my passive will.
'At length I learnt one name my angel bore,
And Rosabella I must now adore:
Yet knew but this -- and not the favour'd place
That held the angel or th' angelic race;
Nor where, admired, the sweet enchantress dwelt.
But I had lost her -- that, indeed, I felt.
'Yet, would I say, she will at length be mine!
Did ever hero hope or love resign?
Though men oppose, and fortune bids despair,
She will in time her mischief well repair,
And I, at last, shall wed this fairest of the fair!
'My thrifty uncle, now return'd, began
To stir within me what remained of man;
My powerful frenzy painted to the life,
And ask'd me if I took a dream to wife?
Debate ensued, and though not well content,
Upon a visit to his house I went:
He, the most saving of mankind, had still
Some kindred feeling; he would guide my will,
And teach me wisdom -- so affection wrought,
That he to save me from destruction sought:
To him destruction, the most awful curse
Of misery's children, was -- an empty purse!
He his own books approved, and thought the pen
An useful instrument for trading men;
But judged a quill was never to be slit
Except to make it for a merchant fit:
He, when informed how men of taste could write,
Look'd on his ledger with supreme delight;
Then would he laugh, and, with insulting joy,
Tell me aloud, "that's poetry, my boy;
These are your golden numbers -- them repeat,
The more you have, the more you'll find them sweet --
Their numbers move all hearts -- no matter for their feet.
Sir, when a man composes in this style,
What is to him a critic's frown or smile?
What is the puppy's censure or applause
To the good man who on his banker draws,
Buys an estate, and writes upon the grounds,
'Pay to A. B. an hundred thousand pounds?'
Thus, my dear nephew, thus your talents prove;
Leave verse to poets, and the poor to love."
'Some months I suffered thus, compell'd to sit
And hear a wealthy kinsman aim at wit;
Yet there was something in his nature good,
And he had feeling for the tie of blood:
So while I languish'd for my absent maid
I some observance to my uncle paid.'
'Had you inquired?' said Richard.
'I had placed
Inquirers round, but nothing could be traced;
Of every reasoning creature at this Hall,
And tenant near it, I applied to all -- --
Tell me if she -- and I described her well --
Dwelt long a guest, or where retired to dwell?
But no! such lady they remember'd not --
They saw that face, strange beings! and forgot.
Nor was inquiry all; but I pursued
My soul's first wish, with hope's vast strength endued:
I cross'd the seas, I went where strangers go,
And gazed on crowds as one who dreads a foe,
Or seeks a friend; and, when I sought in vain,
Fled to fresh crowds, and hoped, and gazed again.'
'It was a strong possession' -- 'Strong and strange,
I felt the evil, yet desired not change:
Years now had flown, nor was the passion cured,
But hope had life, and so was life endured;
The mind's disease, with all its strength, stole on,
Till youth, and health, and all but love were gone.
And there were seasons, Richard, horrid hours
Of mental suffering! they o'erthrew my powers,
And made my mind unsteady -- I have still,
At times, a feeling of that nameless ill,
That is not madness -- I could always tell
My mind was wandering -- knew it was not well;
Felt all my loss of time, the shameful waste
Of talents perish'd, and of parts disgraced:
But though my mind was sane, there was a void --
My understanding seem'd in part destroy'd;
I thought I was not of my species one,
but unconnected! injured and undone.
'While in this state, once more my uncle pray'd
That I would hear -- I heard, and I obey'd;
For I was thankful that a being broke
On this my sadness, or an interest took
In my poor life -- but, at his mansion, rest
Came with its halcyon stillness to my breast:
Slowly there enter'd in my mind concern
For things about me -- I would something learn,
And to my uncle listen; who, with joy,
Found that ev'n yet I could my powers employ,
Till I could feel new hopes my mind possess,
Of ease at least, if not of happiness:
Till, not contented, not in discontent,
As my good uncle counsell'd, on I went;
Conscious of youth's great error -- nay, the crime
Of manhood now -- a dreary waste of time!
Conscious of that account which I must give
How life had past with me -- I strove to live.
'Had I, like others, my first hope attain'd,
I must, at least, a certainty have gain'd;
Had I, like others, lost the hope of youth,
Another hope had promised greater truth;
But I in baseless hopes, and groundless views,
Was fated time, and peace, and health to lose,
Impell'd to seek, for ever doom'd to fail,
Is -- -- I distress you -- let me end my tale.
'Something one day occurr'd about a bill
That was not drawn with true mercantile skill,
And I was ask'd and authorized to go
To seek the firm of Clutterbuck and Co.;
Their hour was past -- but when I urged the case,
There was a youth who named a second place,
Where, on occasions of important kind,
I might the man of occupation find
In his retirement, where he found repose
From the vexations that in business rose.
I found, though not with ease, this private seat
Of soothing quiet, wisdom's still retreat.
'The house was good, but not so pure and clean
As I had houses of retirement seen;
Yet men, I knew, of meditation deep,
Love not their maidens should their studies sweep;
His room I saw, and must acknowledge, there
Were not the signs of cleanliness or care:
A female servant, void of female grace,
Loose in attire, proceeded to the place;
She stared intrusive on my slender frame,
And boldly ask'd my business and my name.
'I gave them both; and, left to be amused,
Well as I might, the parlour I perused.
The shutters half unclosed, the curtains fell
Half down, and rested on the window-sill,
And thus, confusedly, made the room half visible:
Late as it was, the little parlour bore
Some tell-tale tokens of the night before;
There were strange sights and scents about the room,
Of food high season'd, and of strong perfume;
Two unmatch'd sofas ample rents display'd,
Carpet and curtains were alike decay'd;
A large old mirror, with once-gilded frame,
Reflected prints that I forbear to name,
Such as a youth might purchase -- but, in truth,
Not a sedate or sober-minded youth:
The cinders yet were sleeping in the grate,
Warm from the fire, continued large and late,
As left by careless folk, in their neglected state;
The chairs in haste seem'd whirl'd about the room,
As when the sons of riot hurry home,
And leave the troubled place to solitude and gloom.
'All this, for I had ample time, I saw,
And prudence question'd -- should we not withdraw?
For he who makes me thus on business wait,
Is not for business in a proper state;
But man there was not, was not he for whom
To this convenient lodging I was come;
No! but a lady's voice was heard to call
On my attention -- and she had it all;
For lo! she enters, speaking ere in sight,
"Monsieur! I shall not want the chair tonight --
Where shall I see him?" -- This dear hour atones
For all affection's hopeless sighs and groans --
Then turning to me -- "Art thou come at last?
A thousand welcomes -- be forgot the past;
Forgotten all the grief that absence brings,
Fear that torments, and jealousy that stings --
All that is cold, injurious, and unkind,
Be it for ever banish'd from the mind;
And in that mind, and in that heart be now
The soft endearment, and the binding vow."
'She spoke -- and o'er the practised features threw
The looks that reason charm, and strength subdue.
'Will you not ask, how I beheld that face,
Or read that mind, and read it in that place?
I have tried, Richard, oft-times, and in vain,
To trace my thoughts, and to review their train --
If train there were -- that meadow, grove, and stile,
The fright, th' escape, her sweetness and her smile;
Years since elapsed, and hope, from year to year,
To find her free -- and then to find her here!
'But is it she? -- O! yes; the rose is dead,
All beauty, fragrance, freshness, glory fled:
But yet 'tis she -- the same and not the same --
Who to my bower an heavenly being came;
Who waked my soul's first thought of real bliss,
Whom long I sought, and now I find her -- this.
'I cannot paint her -- something I had seen
So pale and slim, and tawdry and unclean;
With haggard looks, of vice and wo the prey,
Laughing in langour, miserably gay:
Her face, where face appear'd, was amply spread,
By art's coarse pencil, with ill-chosen red,
The flower's fictitious bloom, the blushing of the dead:
But still the features were the same, and strange
My view of both -- the sameness and the change,
That fix'd me gazing and my eye enchain'd,
Although so little of herself remain'd;
It is the creature whom I loved, and yet
Is far unlike her -- Would I could forget
The angel or her fall! the once adored
Or now despised! the worshipp'd or deplored!
'"O! Rosabella!" I prepared to say,
"Whom I have loved," but prudence whisper'd nay,
And folly grew ashamed -- discretion had her day.
She gave her hand; which, as I lightly press'd,
The cold but ardent grasp my soul oppress'd;
The ruin'd girl disturb'd me, and my eyes
Look'd, I conceive, both sorrow and surprise.
'I spoke my business -- "He," she answer'd, "comes
And lodges here -- he has the backward rooms --
He now is absent, and I chanced to hear
Will not before to-morrow eve appear,
And may be longer absent ---- O! the night
When you preserved me in that horrid fright;
A thousand, thousand times, asleep, awake,
I thought of what you ventured for my sake --
Now have you thought -- yet tell me so -- deceive
Your Rosabella, willing to believe?
O! there is something in love's first-born pain
Sweeter than bliss -- it never comes again --
But has your heart been faithful?" -- Here my pride
To anger rising, her attempt defied --
"My faith must childish in your sight appear,
Who have been faithful -- to how many, dear?"
'If words had fail'd, a look explain'd their style,
She could not blush assent, but she could smile:
Good heaven! I thought, have I rejected fame,
Credit and wealth, for one who smiles at shame?
'She saw me thoughtful -- saw it, as I guess'd,
With some concern, though nothing she express'd.
'"Come, my dear friend, discard that look of care,
All things were made to be, as all things are;
All to seek pleasure as the end design'd,
The only good in matter or in mind;
So was I taught by one, who gave me all
That my experienced heart can wisdom call.
'"I saw thee young, love's soft obedient slave,
And many a sigh to my young lover gave;
And I had, spite of cowardice or cow,
Return'd thy passion, and exchanged my vow;
But while I thought to bait the amorous hook,
One set for me my eager fancy took;
There was a crafty eye, that far could see,
And through my failings fascinated me:
Mine was a childish wish, to please my boy;
His a design, his wishes to enjoy.
O! we have both about the world been tost,
Thy gain I know not -- I, they cry, am lost;
So let the wise ones talk; they talk in vain,
And are mistaken both in loss and gain;
'Tis gain to get whatever life affords,
'Tis loss to spend our time in empty words.
'"I was a girl, and thou a boy wert then,
Nor ought of women knew, nor I of men;
But I have traffick'd in the world, and thou,
Doubtless, canst boast of thy experience now;
Let us the knowledge we have gain'd produce,
And kindly turn it to our common use."
'Thus spoke the siren in voluptuous style,
While I stood gazing and perplex'd the while,
Chain'd by that voice, confounded by that smile.
And then she sang, and changed from grave to gay,
Till all reproach and anger died away.

'"My Damon was the first to wake
The gentle flame that cannot die;
My Damon is the last to take
The faithful bosom's softest sigh:
The life between is nothing worth,
O! cast it from thy thought away;
Think of the day that gave it birth,
And this its sweet returning day.

'"Buried be all that has been done,
Or say that naught is done amiss;
For who the dangerous path can shun
In such bewildering world as this?
But love can every fault forgive,
Or with a tender look reprove;
And now let naught in memory live,
But that we meet, and that we love."

'And then she moved my pity; for she wept,
And told her miseries till resentment slept;
For when she saw she could not reason blind,
She pour'd her heart's whole sorrows on my mind,
With features graven on my soul, with sighs
Seen but not heard, with soft imploring eyes,
And voice that needed not, but had the aid
Of powerful words to soften and persuade.
'"O! I repent me of the past; and sure
Grief and repentance make the bosom pure;
Yet meet thee not with clean and single heart,
As on the day we met! -- and but to part,
Ere I had drank the cup that to my lip
Was held, and press'd till I was forced to sip:
I drank indeed, but never ceased to hate, --
It poison'd, but could not intoxicate:
T' excuse my fall I plead not love's excess,
But a weak orphan's need and loneliness.
I had no parent upon earth -- no door
Was oped to me -- young, innocent, and poor,
Vain, tender and resentful -- and my friend
Jealous of one who must on her depend,
Making life misery -- You could witness then
That I was precious in the eyes of men;
So, made by them a goddess, and denied
Respect and notice by the women's pride;
Here scorn'd, there worshipp'd -- will it strange appear,
Allured and driven, that I settled here?
Yet loved it not; and never have I pass'd
One day, and wish'd another like the last.
There was a fallen angel, I have read,
For whom their tears the sister-angels shed,
Because, although she ventured to rebel,
She was not minded like a child of hell. --
Such is my lot! and will it not be given
To grief like mine, that I may think of heaven?
Behold how there the glorious creatures shine,
And all my soul to grief and hope resign?"
'I wonder'd, doubting -- and is this a fact,
I thought; or part thou art disposed to act?
'"Is it not written, He, who came to save
Sinners, the sins of deepest dye forgave?
That he his mercy to the sufferers dealt,
And pardon'd error when the ill was felt?
Yes! I would hope, there is an eye that reads
What is within, and sees the heart that bleeds -- --
But who on earth will one so lost deplore,
And who will help that lost one to restore?
Who will on trust the sigh of grief receive;
And -- all things warring with belief -- believe?"
'Soften'd, I said -- "Be mine the hand and heart,
If with your world you will consent to part."
She would -- she tried -- -- Alas! she did not know
How deeply rooted evil habits grow:
She felt the truth upon her spirits press,
But wanted ease, indulgence, show, excess,
Voluptuous banquets, pleasures -- not refined,
But such as soothe to sleep th' opposing mind --
She look'd for idle vice, the time to kill,
And subtle, strong apologies for ill;
And thus her yielding, unresisting soul
Sank, and let sin confuse her and control:
Pleasures that brought disgust yet brought relief,
And minds she hated help'd to war with grief.'
'Thus then she perish'd?' --
'Nay -- but thus she proved
Slave to the vices that she never loved:
But while she thus her better thoughts opposed,
And woo'd the world, the world's deceptions closed: --
I had long lost her; but I sought in vain
To banish pity: -- still she gave me pain,
Still I desired to aid her -- to direct,
And wish'd the world, that won her, to reject:
Nor wish'd in vain -- there came, at length, request
That I would see a wretch with grief oppress'd,
By guilt affrighted -- and I went to trace
Once more the vice-worn features of that face,
That sin-wreck'd being! and I saw her laid
Where never worldly joy a visit paid:
That world receding fast! the world to come
Conceal'd in terror, ignorance, and gloom;
Sins, sorrow, and neglect: with not a spark
Of vital hope, -- all horrible and dark --
It frighten'd me! -- I thought, and shall not I
Thus feel? thus fear? -- this danger can I fly?
Do I so wisely live that I can calmly die?
'The wants I saw I could supply with ease,
But there were wants of other kind than these;
Th' awakening thought, the hope-inspiring view --
The doctrines awful, grand, alarming, true --
Most painful to the sould, and yet most healing too:
Still I could something offer, and could send
For other aid -- a more important friend,
Whose duty call'd him, and his love no less,
To help the grieving spirit in distress;
To save in that sad hour the drooping prey,
And from its victim drive despair away.
All decent comfort round the sick was seen;
The female helpers quiet, sober, clean;
Her kind physician with a smile appear'd,
And zealous love the pious friend endear'd:
While I, with mix'd sensations, could inquire,
Hast thou one wish, one unfulfill'd desire?
Speak every thought, nor unindulged depart,
If I can make thee happier than thou art!
'Yes! there was yet a female friend, an old
And grieving nurse! to whom it should be told --
If I would tell -- that she, her child, had fail'd,
And turn'd from truth! yet truth at length prevail'd.
''Twas in that chamber, Richard, I began
To think more deeply of the end of man:
Was it to jostle all his fellows by,
To run before them, and say, "here am I,
Fall down and worship?" -- Was it, life throughout,
With circumspection keen to hunt about
As spaniels for their game, where might be found
Abundance more for coffers that abound?
Or was it life's enjoyments to prefer,
Like this poor girl, and then to die like her?
No! He, who gave the faculties, design'd
Another use for the immortal mind:
There is a state in which it will appear
With all the good and ill contracted here;
With gain and loss, improvement and defect;
And then, my soul! what hast thou to expect
For talents laid aside, life's waste, and time's neglect?
'Still as I went came other change -- the frame
And features wasted, and yet slowly came
The end; and so inaudible the breath,
And still the breathing, we exclaimed -- 'tis death!
But death it was not: when, indeed, she died,
I sat and his last gentle stroke espied:
When -- as it came -- or did my fancy trace
That lively, lovely flushing o'er the face?
Bringing back all that my young heart impress'd!
It came -- and went! -- She sigh'd, and was at rest!
'Adieu, I said, fair Frailty! dearly cost
The love I bore thee -- time and treasure lost;
And I have suffer'd many years in vain;
Now let me something in my sorrows gain:
Heaven would not all this wo for man intend
If man's existence with his wo should end;
Heaven would not pain, and grief, and anguish give,
If man was not by discipline to live;
And for that brighter, better world prepare,
That souls with souls, when purified, shall share,
Those stains all done away that must not enter there.
'Home I return'd, with spirits in that state
Of vacant wo, I strive not to relate,
Nor how, deprived of all her hope and strength,
My soul turn'd feebly to the world at length.
I travell'd then till health again resumed
Its former seat -- I must not say re-bloom'd;
And then I fill'd, not loth, that favourite place
That has enrich'd some seniors of our race;
Patient and dull I grew; my uncle's praise
Was largely dealt me on my better days;
A love of money -- other love at rest --
Came creeping on, and settled in my breast;
The force of habit held me to the oar,
Till I could relish what I scorn'd before:
I now could talk and scheme with men of sense,
Who deal for millions, and who sigh for pence,
And grew so like them, that I heard with joy
Old Blueskin said I was a pretty boy;
For I possess'd the caution with the zeal,
That all true lovers of their interest feel:
Exalted praise! and to the creature due,
Who loves that interest solely to pursue.
'But I was sick, and sickness brought disgust;
My peace I could not to my profits trust:
Again some views of brighter kind appear'd,
My heart was humbled, and my mind was clear'd;
I felt those helps that souls diseased restore,
And that cold frenzy, avarice, raged no more.
From dreams of boundless wealth I then arose;
This place, the scene of infant bliss, I chose,
And here I find relief, and here I seek repose.
'Yet much is lost, and not yet much is found,
But what remains, I would believe, is sound;
That first wild passion, that last mean desire,
Are felt no more; but holier hopes require
A mind prepared and steady -- my reform
Has fears like his, who, suffering in a storm,
Is on a rich but unknown country cast,
The future fearing, while he feels the past;
But whose more cheerful mind, with hope imbued,
Sees through receding clouds the rising good.'





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