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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:36:13 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:36:13 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11194-0.txt b/11194-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e19917 --- /dev/null +++ b/11194-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1477 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11194 *** + +Vignettes: + +IN VERSE. + + +BY MATILDA BETHAM. + + + +1818. + + + +THESE VERSES ARE INSCRIBED +TO +LADY BETHAM, +AS A TRIBUTE OF SINCERE RESPECT +FOR HER +AMIABLE QUALITIES. + + + +ADVERTISEMENT. + + * * * * * + +As far as the seventy-fourth page, these Poems have been printed about +two years; during which many things happened likely to prevent their +ever appearing. The time, however, is now come, and I have to-day found +the remainder, up to where the lines end with + + "Its unpolluted birthright." + +On reading the whole over, they struck me with much surprise, as they +appear in a singular manner prophetic. I wrote them with a general, and +somewhat undefined view; and they now take the aspect of speaking on +what has since happened to myself--a long seclusion, during which I was +bereft of the common means of study, having given rise to one that has +turned out far more important than I at first imagined, and which I have +continued since, to the exclusion of every other pursuit. + +_Stonkam, May 10th_, 1818. + + + + + +Vignettes. + + + +I. + + +If writing Journals were my task, + From cottagers to kings-- +A little book I'd only ask, + And fill it full of wings! + +Each pair should represent a day: + On some the sun should rise, +While others bent their mournful way + Through cold and cloudy skies. + +And here I would the light'ning bring + With threatening, forked glare; +And there the hallowed rainbow fling + Across the troubled air. + +Some faint and wearily should glide + Their broken flight along-- +While some high in the air should ride + Dilated, bold, and strong. + +Some agitated and adrift, + Against their will should rove; +Some, steering forward, sure and swift, + Should scarcely seem to move-- + +While others, happiest of their kind! + Should in the ether soar, +As if no care would ever find, + No sorrow reach them more; + +When soon an arrow from below + Should wound them in their flight, +And many a crimson drop should flow + Before they fell in sight. + +The rapid and abrupt descent, + The stain'd and ruffled plume, +Would seem as if they were not meant + Their ardour to resume. + +But soon their beauty and their force + Sweet hours of rest renew; +Full soon their light, their varied course + Careering they pursue. + +Alternately to rise and fall, + Or float along the day-- +And this is Fortune--This is all + I would vouchsafe to say! + + + + +II. + + + Lucy, I think not of thy beauty, + I praise not each peculiar grace; + To see thee in the path of duty, + And with that happy, smiling face, +Conveys more pleasure to thy friend, +Than any outward charm could lend. + + I see thy graceful babes caress thee, + I mark thy wise, maternal care, + And sadly do the words impress me, + The magic words--that thou art fair. +I wonder that a tongue is found +To utter the unfeeling sound! + + For, art thou not above such praises? + And is this all that they can see? + Poor is the joy such flattery raises, + And, oh! how much unworthy thee! +Unworthy one whose heart can feel +The voice of truth, the warmth of zeal! + + O Lucy, thou art snatch'd from folly, + Become too tender to be vain, + The world, it makes me melancholy, + The world would lure thee back again! +And it would cost me many sighs, +To see it win so bright a prize! + + Though passing apprehensions move me, + I know thou hast a noble heart; + But, Lucy, I so truly love thee, + So much admire thee as thou art, +That, but the shadow of a fear, +Wakes in my breast a pang sincere. + + + + +III. + +THE ARTISAN. + + +This twilight gloom. This lone retreat-- +This silence to my soul is sweet! +Awhile escap'd from toil and strife, +And all the lesser ills of life, +Here only at the evening's close, +My weary spirit finds repose; +My sinking heart its freedom gains, +Which poverty had bound in chains! + +For here unheard the moments fly-- +And so secure, so happy I, +That, often at the very last, +I feel not that my dream is past. +The little hour of bliss I spend, +With thee, my chosen, only friend! +That transient hour the heart sustains, +Which poverty has bound in chains! + +And for this dear, this precious hour, +I would not, if I had the power, +Exchange a worldling's life of ease, +Whom all around him seek to please. +I have no other friend beside, +But here I safely may confide. +Suspicion ne'er the bosom stains, +Which poverty has bound in chains! + +How oft I wonder at my lot! +How oft are all but thee forgot! +While in this half-despairing breast, +Love builds a little, quiet nest, +To hover o'er with joyous wing, +Nay, sometimes soar aloft and sing! +'Tis this alone the heart sustains, +Which poverty has bound in chains! + + + + +IV. + + +"Come, Edmund, now the sun goes down, + Thy many wanderings tell! +Say, after all thine eyes have seen, + If home appears so well!" + +"So well! alas! ye do not know + How absence can endear! +In every hill, in every tree, + A thousand charms appear. + +"The verdure of these English fields + Seems in my heart to glow-- +There, as this shaded river winds, + I feel its waters flow. + +"For, though I ventured forth so bold, + So long, so far did roam, +Affection, like a wayward child, + Still wept and murmur'd, _home!_ + +"I persevered, yet still I strained + The pleader to my breast; +I hush'd her cries, but as I chid + More fondly still carest. + +"And when I met with foreign dames + Of grace and beauty rare-- +I fancied one dear village girl + Like them: but oh! how fair! + +"My early playmate! oft I humm'd + The lays she lisping sung! +And sigh'd when looking on the arm, + Where she at parting hung. + +"Then, joy! within my native vale + To find my Ellen free! +To fancy others pleas'd her not, + Because she thought on me! + +"So closely round a glowing heart + Did never flowers entwine! +Oh! ne'er was mortal spirit lull'd + With visions sweet as mine!" + + + + +V. + +VALENTINE + +_FROM A YOUNG LADY TO HER MOTHER._ + +1811. + + -------- + +It is a custom, in some parts of Norfolk and Suffolk, to send little +presents with verses on Valentine's Day, to relatives and friends. + + -------- + +Hope has her emblem, so has Love, + But I have vainly sought +For one, that might entirely prove + The picture of my thought. + +If violets, when fresh with dew, + Could amaranthine be, +Their soothing, deep, and glowing hue + Would justly speak for me. + +Or to some plant with tendrils fine, + With blossoms sweet and gay, +This office I would now assign; + But flowers will all decay! + +A bird would suit my purpose more, + With filial heart endued; +But, ere their little life is o'er, + Birds lose their gratitude! + +No emblem of the love I feel + Appears within my view; +Less ardent, or less pure the zeal, + Less tender, or less true! + +All I can do is to avow, + My services are thine; +And that my spirit still shall bow, + Before my Valentine. + + + + +VI. + +THE LOVER'S APOLOGY. + + +I look'd into her eyes, + And saw something divine, +For there, like summer lightning, + Swift coruscations shine. + +Still flashing, and still changing, + Attemper'd soft and bright, +Through each expression ranging, + From pity to delight. + +From high or zealous feeling, + From arch, excursive grace, +From all with which a lovely mind + Endows the human face. + +Perhaps a new and careless eye + May not those beauties see, +And wonder to behold the power + Belinda has with me. + +The spell which holds this captive soul + She never would possess, +Were not her varying features rul'd + By sparkling playfulness, + +But when with aimless, trackless skill + Is twin'd a mazy chain, +In the warm foldings of a heart, + Perforce it must remain. + + + + +VII. + + +Come, Magdalen, and bind my hair, + And put me on my sad array; +I to my father's house repair, + And hear his final doom to-day. + +But wrap me in that cypress veil; + At first his eye I would not brave, +'Till he shall bid the mourner hail, + And knows I come from Edwin's grave. + +I, late his boast, his heir, his pride, + Must like a guilty vassal kneel; +I, who was gallant Edwin's bride, + Must to my widow'd state appeal! + +Closely within my heart must keep + His praise for whom that heart is riv'n, +And let each fond resentment sleep, + For I must die or be forgiven. + + + + +VIII. + +_The Spanish Lady's Farewell_, 1809. + + +Manuel, I do not shed a tear, + Our parting to delay! +I dare not listen to my fear! + I dare not bid thee stay! + +The heart may shrink, the spirit fail, + But Spaniards must be free; +And pride and duty shall prevail + O'er all my love for thee! + +Then go! and round that gallant head, + Like banners in the air, +Shall float full many a daring hope, + And many a tender prayer! + +Should freedom perish--at thy death, + 'T'were folly to repine-- +And I should every feeling lose, + Except the wish for mine! + +But if the destiny of Spain, + Be once again to rise, +Oh! grant me heaven, to read the tale, + In Manuel's joyful eyes! + + + + +IX. + +SONNET. + + + I am unskill'd in speech: my tongue is slow +The graceful courtesies of life to pay; +To deck kind meanings up in trim array, + Keeping the mind's soft tone: words such as flow + From Complaisance, when she alone inspires! + And Caution, with a care that never tires, +Marshals each tribe of thoughts in such a way + That all are ready for their needful task, + The moment the occasion comes to ask, +All prompt to hear, to answer and obey; +When mine, undisciplin'd, their cause betray, + By coward falterings, or rebellious zeal!-- +And Art, though subtle, though sublime thy sway, + I doubt if thou canst rule us, when we feel! + + + + +X. + +ALL' AMICA. + + +And didst thou think that worldly art +Would mould anew this shrinking heart? +No! as a bird, by storms opprest, +Is sheltered in its silent nest, +I nurse and soothe it in the strife, +Screen from the bleakest airs of life, +And bring it all that once you knew, +As kind, as timid, and as true! + +But how could I so foolish be, +As not to feel a doubt of thee?-- +This joy to find me still the same +Takes from my lip the power to blame; +Else, but forgive me, else I find +A mist has stolen o'er thy mind, +And veil'd my prospect; dimm'd that light +Which once was warm, and clear, and bright. + + + + +XI. + +TO THE SAME. + + +Go forth, my voice, through the wild air, + In the lone stillness of the night, + Beneath the cold moon's pale blue light; +Seek Eugenia, and declare, +As warmth and promise lurk below +A waste of lifeless, drifted snow; + +So, while my lips inertly move, + While many heavy fetters bind, + And press upon my languid mind, +Oh! tell her not to doubt my love! +Affection still her hold shall keep, +Although her weary servants sleep. + +Friendship to me is like a flower, + Yielding a balm for human woe, + I less than ever could forego; +More prized, more needed every hour! +Perchance it dies for want of care, +But as it withers, I despair! + + + + +XII. + +_To the late Lady Rouse Boughton_. + + +'Tis said, that jealous of a name + We all would praise confine, +And choke the leading path to fame + In our peculiar line. + +But vainly should detraction preach + If once I made it known, +The art of pleasing thou would'st teach + Acknowledg'd for thy own. + + + + +XIII. + + +Yes! I can suffer, sink with pain, +With anguish I can ill sustain; +Till not a hope has strength to spring, +Till scarce a prayer can lift its wing; +Yet in my inmost heart there lies +A living fount that will arise, +And, of itself, diffuse a balm, +A healing and refreshing calm, +A pure delight, a cooling glow, +Which Hate and Meanness cannot know! + +Yes! I can faint, and I can fear, +The power of petty creatures here, +Who trick dark deeds in gay disguise, +And weave their web of brooded lies, +With so few threads made smooth and fair, +All seems plain sense and reason there; +And yet I would not learn their art, +Nor have their paltry spells by heart, +Their rankling blood within my veins, +For all the treasure earth contains! + +Oft, panic-struck, I sink, dismay'd, +Call, with expiring faith, for aid; +When all my efforts useless seem, +Emptied of force as in a dream, +My courage knows to persevere, +Entwin'd, o'ergrown, o'ertowered by fear! +As he who summoned in the night, +At sudden wreck, in wild affright, +Once throws his arms around a mast, +Continues still to hold it fast, +When sight and strength and aim are flown, +When cold, benumb'd, and senseless grown, +My soul, by hurrying tempests driven, +Though blinded from the light of Heaven, +Clinging, all hope, all comfort o'er, +Must yet awaken on the shore! + + + + +XIV. + +TO MR. AND MRS. EVERARD, + +_On their only Son's being in the Navy_, 1811. + + -------- + +Talent and beauty, and the heart's warm glow, +Gilding with Heavenly light his path below, +Few with such rare felicity have won, +In that rich prize, a dear and only son; +And fewer but those faculties would doom +To the soft prison of a pamper'd home; +Check his bold wishes when they soar'd on high, +And see well-pleas'd each early vision die; +But ye, enweaving, as to me appears, +With his bright hopes, those of maturer years, +Hallowing the web, with all that parents feel, +The saintly trust in Heav'n, the patriot's zeal, +The aching doubts, that still tenacious wind +Around the lofty and the tender mind; +Ye, with a more than Roman virtue, yield, +To the proud strife of Albion's liquid field, +This darling; and, in whispers, bid him wear +The finest wreath that buds and blossoms there; +And I could almost say I heard a strain +Pronounce--the sacrifice should not be vain! + + + + +XV. + +TO THE HON. LADY J----, + +_With the Picture of her Grand-daughter, the present Lady Petre._ + +1813. + + +Behold the semblance of thy flower! + I could not fill its leaves with dew, +Shew its tints varying with the hour, + Its motion as the zephyrs blew. + +And beauty too were more complete, + Appearing on the native stem, +In midst of buds and blossoms sweet, + And catching graces, charms from them. + +Or blooming under eyes like thine, + Whose fond, soft gaze, whose tender tear, +Must also, losing power divine, + Awake no answering sweetness here. + +For much of loveliness must sleep, + E'en when inspir'd and led by truth; +The faithful pencil aims to keep + Mildness and innocence and youth. + + + + +XVI. + +To MRS. A. + + +An Hour was before me, no creature more bright, +More airy, more joyous, e'er sprang on my sight. +To catch and to fetter I instantly tried, +And "thou art my slave, pretty vagrant," I cried. + +I had hold, and securely I thought, of its wing, +O! how I shall glory, so lovely a thing +To place by the cradle of friendship, and see, +With the aid of my captive, if I can be free. + +Oh! while she is with me, some means may be found +To temper the air and to hallow the ground-- +To make those entangling bind-weeds decay, +Drive Suspicion, who rear'd them, for ever away, +And leave all around, kind, and healthful, and gay! + +When this can be compass'd, I'll build me a bower, +And twine in the trellice each sweet-scented flower-- +Rare, delicate plants, whose large, fresh leaves shall fling +Green shadows, where birds in the stillness may sing. + +A place of repose, when the spirit is faint, +And the heart wants to utter a passing complaint: +Of safety; for pure and serene be the air, +And nothing unkind or unholy be there! + +In this sacred retreat I my cares would confide, +And there my half-forming opinions should hide; +If true, gather strength for the brightness of day-- +If false, in the shade, unreprov'd, die away! + +How fondly I nourish'd these hopes, but in vain! +The calm and the stillness I could not retain; +My Hour fled away, every wish unfulfill'd, +And warm'd not the Friendship Suspicion had chill'd! + + + + +XVII. + + +LINES + +_Sent to a Brother on his leaving England_. + +May 2, 1816. + + -------- + +FANCIFUL BOUQUET. + + -------- + +_Hopes_ all glowing, _Wishes_ rare, + _Blessings_ mixed with many a _Prayer_, +Flowers as yet beyond compare, + Though flourishing in northern air. + +_Farewells_ twined with tender _Fears_, + _Golden day-dreams_, gemm'd with tears, +_Affections_ nurtur'd many years, + Before this perfect bloom appears. + +_Thoughts_ of fondness and of pride, + _Love-vanities_ we need not hide; +_Heart-blossoms_, in its crimson dyed, + For you, are here together tied. + +And yet they all appear too poor, + Though goodness can ensure no more; +Though monarchs, whom the world adore, + Would purchase such with all their store. + +And while this charmed gift we send, + We know where'er your footsteps bend, +The looks and tones that win the friend, + That kindness, nature, truth, attend, + +Are yours, and must be with you still, + Angelic guards, go where they will, +To ward off much surrounding ill, + And happiest destinies fulfil. + + + + +XVIII. + + +_Written jointly with a particular Friend, after a conversation +similar to the subject, with the Damon of the Story_. + + -------- + +Believing love was all a bubble, +And wooing but a needless trouble, +Damon grew fond of posied rings, +And many such romantic things; +But whether it were Fortune's spite, +That study wound his brain too tight, +Or that his fancy play'd him tricks, +He could not on the lady fix. + He look'd around, + And often found, +A damsel passing fair; + "_She's good enough,_" he then would cry, + And rub his hands, and wink his eye, +"_I'll be enamour'd there!_" + +He thus resolved; but had not power +To hold the humour "_half an hour_"-- +And critics, vers'd in Cupid's laws, +Pretended they had found a clause, + In an old volume on the shelf;-- +Which said, if arrows chanc'd to fly, +When no bright nymph was passing by, +And lighted on a vacant breast; +The swain, Narcissus-like possest, + Strait doated on himself! + +If so, his anxious friends declar'd +All future trouble might be spar'd: +A heart thus pierc'd would never rove, +Nor meanly seek a second love; +No distance e'er could give him pain-- +No rivalry torment his brain. +Self-love will bear a many knocks, +A thousand mortifying shocks; +One moment languish in despair, +The next alert and debonair. + +Poor Damon bit his nails and sigh'd, +But still he was not satisfied; +He could not rest, nor be content, +Until to Cupid's court he went. +Of rules establish'd in the place, +Or, how to enter with a grace, +He own'd he neither knew nor car'd, +But thought _such nonsense better spar'd_, +And went undaunted and alone +To place himself before the throne. +He kiss'd no hand, he bent no knee, +Nor measur'd steps of one, two, three, +But made a careless, slouching bow, +And said, "Your highness will allow, +That I am personable, tall, +A rather handsome face withal, +And fit to serve as volunteer, +At least as any present here! +Purblind, and deaf, and long and short, +Without distinction here resort; +Whilst I, neglected and forgot, +Sate daily watching in my cot; +And scarcely stirr'd, for fear there might, +Arrive that morning or that night +A captaincy, or some commission, +For I confess I have ambition, +And think if none had done me wrong +I had not been o'erlook'd so long. +To come then, Sir, I thought my duty, +Oh! make me sensible to beauty! +The ice about my bosom melt! +Infuse a warmth it never felt! +I come uncall'd! excuse my boldness! +In truth I could not bear the coldness!" + +Half piqued to see him thus intrude, +And question in a way so rude; +Half tickled at the strange address, +Cupid said gravely, "We confess + There may be reason in your plea; +But still we very much admire +Your entering in such strange attire! + We cannot such omissions see, +And countenance--It should appear, +You know not we are sovereign here! +The soldiers of our chosen band +Approach not till we give command. +We every look and action sway, +And they with prompt delight obey. +For height, and size, and such like things, +We care far less than other kings; +But station, learning, no pretence, +Can make us with our power dispense. +The warrior must not here look big, +The lawyer doffs his forked wig, +The portly merchant rich and free, +Forgets his pride and bends the knee; +The doctor gives his terrors scope, +And, like a patient, whines for hope; +In short the wise have childish fits, +And fools and madmen find their wits. +"Then go--this silly pride subdue, +And thou shall be our servant too! +Acquire the courtly way of speech, +Not, 'do you hear?' but, 'I beseech.' +And let a suitor's voice and air, +Thy grievances and zeal declare, +We never scorn a humble prayer!" + +Expecting then a heart submiss, +He held him forth his hand to kiss; +For petrified the while he spoke, +With troubled wonder in his look +Poor Damon stood; aghast, suspended, +But gain'd his senses as he ended; +Abruptly turning on his toe, +"I thank you, Master Cupid, no! +I am a freeman and a brave, +And will not stoop to be a slave. +Your rules will never do for me, +I'd rather learn the rule of three-- +"And since I find it is the plan, +To make me an automaton, +I'll case my heart in triple mail, + And fence it so completely round, +That all this vaunted skill shall fail, + Those blunted arrows back rebound; +For know, usurper! from this hour, +I scorn thy laws, abjure thy power! +From this dear moment I despise +The whole artillery of eyes; +Reason alone shall be my guide, +And Reason's voice shall win my bride. +Some bonny lass shall say I can +Love you as well as any man; +I will the self-same troth accord, +Most gladly take her at her word; +And we may just as happy prove +Without the fooleries of love. +She must not ask so much attention, +As many ladies I could mention; +But when I do not want to sway, +I'll always let her have her way; +And study to oblige her too, +When I have nothing else to do; +And am not tired, or wish to rest, +Or like some other plan the best, +For, more than this would be a task, +None but thy votaries would ask. +She must have riches, beauty, grace, +And modest sweetness in her face." +Just then he saw a scornful sneer +Upon Dan Cupid's face appear; +While courtiers whispered with a grin, +"Poor fellow, he'll be taken in! +The finest birds are always shy, +The rarest at a distance fly, +And Reason cannot soar so high." +"Aye, you may laugh, to prove her mind +At once exalted and refined, +I'll watch her skill in music's art; +By ear and fingers judge the heart, +And then it will not be believ'd +I can be easily deceiv'd. +I only grieve that in my prime +I've wasted so much precious time, +For long ere this I might have married, +Had I not so unwisely tarried, +And vex'd my brains in looking round +For that which never could be found." + +"And would'st thou wish," the monarch cried, +"To set our gentle laws aside? +Thou hast no friend in Common Sense, +In such affairs she thinks it wisest, +To stand aside without pretence, +And sanction laws which thou despisest. +But try the plan, it merits praise, +Success may crown its winning ways! +The lady must be blind indeed, + With whom such offers of neglect, + And cool, habitual disrespect +Would not succeed. +But come no longer here to flout us, +Since, truly, thou canst do without us; +For dignity is lost in sport, +An outlaw for contempt of court; +We banish thee with all thy pride +Until thy heart be rarified." + + + + +XIX. + +ABSENCE. + +_Written in Derbyshire, by the same Friend._ + + -------- + +When recollection brings to mind, +The kindred ties I've left behind, +The converse gentle and refin'd, + I grieve! + +Deep the regret, the pain extreme, +And yet I fondly love the dream, +And find the sad, delightful theme + Relieve. + +It bids all present forms decay, +All present feelings fade away; +Impeding distance, long delay + Are o'er! + +Fancy, so active in the gloom, +Till some one enters in the room, +Can all the images of home + Restore. + +Alas! when weeks, and months are past, +Shall I that home behold at last, +Which even the dark clouds overcast + Endear? + +Lest one of all the cares that dart +Like arrows round each thoughtful heart, +May pierce ere then some vital part + I fear! + + + + +XX. + +_On reading in Savary's Travels the death of Ali Bey, who, it is +there represented, in the midst of enlightened and benevolent efforts +to benefit his country, was repeatedly betrayed, and at length taken +captive by his brother-in-law, whom he had advanced and loved, and +who, till the very last, he could not believe to be his enemy_. + + -------- + +O generous Ali! while thy fate inspires +Indignant pity, with a patriot's fires, +I mourn for Egypt, and with equal zeal, +For her, for thee, and ruin'd science feel: +Admire the confidence my heart deplores +And blame the weakness it almost adores! + +Pride of thy race! before my mental eyes, +I see thee, like another Alfred rise; +See honour splendent on thy ample brow, +While Thought and Genius fill the orbs below; +Those beaming orbs! where lofty sweetness shone, +And where the soul sate smiling on her throne: +Depriv'd too soon of that benignant ray, +Which impious Dahab shudder'd to survey. +Pale, bleeding, conquer'd, dying, and forlorn, +I see thee view the wretch with silent scorn! +See thy cheek flush at the false tears he shed, +And proudly turn away the languid head, +With mingled anger, sorrow, and disdain, +That he should dare to tempt thy love again! + +Oh! yet within the tent I see thee lie, +The victor, like a coward, crouching by; +O'erawed, rebuked, and humbled in the hour, +The plenitude of his success and power! +A pain the guilty never make us know, +In all the miseries they cause below; +A pain which they in every triumph feel, +A humbling sense no glory yet could heal, +The want of conscious worth, the poignant thought, +That inwardly sets all pretence at naught! +That curbs all self-applause--tears all disguise-- +When the subdued, the ruin'd can _despise_; +And, in the arms of death, can yet be free, +To say, "Let me be any thing but thee!" + +Ambition! while thy zeal the good inflame, +And make a noble nature sigh for fame, +We deem thee of a more than royal line, +For self-devotion tendeth to divine! +But when, like Dahab's demon, selfish, vain, +It loosens Gratitude's mysterious chain; +When broken Faith aloud, but vainly calls; +When the warm friend, the king, the brother falls; +Instead of honours, and a conqueror's fame, +Hatred shall haunt, and curses brand thy name! + + + + +XXI. + + +LINES. + +_Written for a Young Gentleman to speak at the Audit at St. Saviour's +School, Southwark, after the Battle of Trafalgar_. + + -------- + +While others, from the Greek and Roman page, +Declare the prudent councils of the sage; +Or, in recital of achievements bold, +Retrace the motives and the deeds of old, +I, in the accents of my native clime, +And, at the moment, shaking hands with Time, +I, whom our recent loss forbids to roam, +Shall plant my mourning standard nearer home! +At the sad shrine where gallant Nelson sleeps, +Where Britain bends her lofty head and weeps, +Deeply lamenting that she cannot prove, +The fond excess of dearly purchas'd love. + +Is there a callous mind, that does not feel +An anxious interest in the public weal! +Is there a heart that pities not the brave! +To whom luxuriant laurels hide the grave! +A grief unwing'd, yet unconsol'd by pride! +A tongue that said not, when our hero died, +While bitter tears that glorious loss deplore, +The man who _lov'd his country_ is no more? +No! in each eye the glowing trophies fade; +Each sign of triumph seems a vain parade! +The aching sigh to conquering shouts succeeds, +And Victory assumes a widow's weeds. + +Some wily chieftain, building up a name, +May fight for immortality and fame; +Time may embalm his valour, or his art, +And History shew the coldness of a heart, +Which, emulous of grandeur and a throne, +Acts for itself, "_its own low self_" alone; +And, in the inner chambers of the mind, +Broods over plans to subjugate mankind: +There fondly bends each nation to his sway, +That he may rule, and all beside obey. +Haply the mighty fabric may arise, +Vast in its bulk, and aiming at the skies, +Till Wisdom, viewing the enormous pile, +Admires the madness of a man the while, +Who labours with incessant toil and skill; +To feed Ambition, discontented still; +And for that serpent in his bosom curl'd, +Erects a temple fit to hold the world! + +Though such a chief a deathless wreath may crown, +Though he may win a sterile, hard renown, +His name shall ne'er a sudden glow impart, +Nor make the tear of admiration start; +Ne'er in his plaudits shall warm blessings join! +None cry, "The triumph of that man is mine!" +But, when his greatness crumbles in the dust, +Coldly exclaim, "Lo! Providence is just!" +Far different is the patriot warrior's lot! +He may in Time's long journey be forgot; +Though many generations shall decay, +Ere England's love to Nelson wears away! +But if at length successive years should cast +The mist of distance upon ages past, +And fathers what themselves have witness'd tell, +Of those who yet shall serve their country well-- +Memory and Knowledge shall dispel the gloom, +And shed strong light on every honour'd tomb-- +To lift the spirit when our courage fail, +When worth departed, future ages hail! + +And ye, compeers, who in the classic page, +Do homage to the hero and the sage, +Whose hearts at base and cruel actions bleed, +But rise triumphant at a noble deed-- +Forbear from Duty's anxious side to stray, +But follow bravely when she leads the way; +Follow with head and heart, as Nelson fought; +Be vigilant like him in act and thought; +Then, as the lark mounts upwards in the skies, +Early in life's fair morning will you rise, +Expand bold pinions nearest to the sun, +And claim the meed of glory fairly won. + + + + +XXII. + +TO THE HETMAN, PLATOFF. + + -------- + +O ancient warrior! as we hail thee, + And behold thy cordial smile, +We hope that greetings ne'er may fail thee, + Such as those of Britain's isle. + +They are, although so seeming rude, + Given only where we think them due; +Most courteous, e'en when they intrude, + Too vehement, but always true! + +Applauses which no art can fashion, + Which speak the feelings and no more; +Which give respect the glow of passion, + When worth and valour we adore; + +Blest is the hero in receiving! + And pride may scoff at, or despise, +What if but once sincere believing, + Is grateful to the good and wise. + + + + +XXIII. + +_On the Death of Master Frederic Thomson_. + +1810. + + -------- + +In the first dawn of youth I much admire +The lively boy of ruddy countenance, +Strong-built, and bold, and hardy, with black hair, +And dark brown eye, contrasting its blue-white, +Somewhat abruptly; save in the bright hour +Of inward passion, or of sudden joy; +When, as a monarch, gracious and renown'd, +Amid a crowd of subjects, diverse all, +Thrills with one deep, soft feeling every heart; +Or, as the sun throws his pervading beams +At once on bleak harsh mountains and the sky; +The soul, by union of its light and heat, +Clears and irradiates all, and gives to strength +A mellow sweetness; hues late undefin'd +Grow more intense, or, if discordant, lose +Their coarseness, and become diaphanous. +This I admire, but still methinks I look +With a serener pleasure on the head +Crested by flaxen curls; or where soft locks, +Like to long coiling leaves that lose their edge, +Shine silken on the cheek, and parting smooth +Above a fair and modest countenance, +Harmonize with its pure, its tender bloom. +Still lovelier when with that infusion sweet +Of saint or angel spirit, resident +In the calm circle of a blue eye fring'd +With sable lashes! I remember once +A face like this, ere sickness took away +Its freshness, in whose looks there also dwelt, +If one may speak it of a thing so young, +And not subdue our warm belief to say +The prophecy of all these qualities, +Refinement, gentleness, and mild resolve; +Fitted to stem the evil of this world, +And hold with patient intrepidity, +The shield of calm resistance to its power. +It seem'd as if no anger e'er could dwell +Within his bosom; no blind prejudice +Distract his judgment; and no folly call +For a reproof: as if Affection were +Too soon allied to Thought, and tempered so +His morning, that the ministry of Time, +The chast'ning trial of Remorse and Grief, +And of stern Disappointment, all were spar'd. + + + + +XXIV. + +_On the Death of Herbert Southey: addressed to his Father_. + + -------- + +Knowing the nature of thy grief, +Too deep, too recent for relief, +Oh! why impatient must I press +So early on a friend's distress! +Why am I eager thus to prove, +To him who feels excess of love, +The tender liking we bestow +On fair and guileless things below? +On Love and Joy without pretence, +On kind and playful Innocence! +The pleas'd idea Memory kept, +The partial glance which never slept, +When hopes arose oft render'd vain, +Of seeing Keswick yet again. + +Never but once a child had won +So much upon me as thy son; +And, for each wild and winning art, +That, nestling, fastens in the heart; +For graces that light tendrils fling +Around each nerve's tenacious string; +Caprices beautiful, that strike +The heart, and captive fancy, like +Those of a tame, young bird at play, +That carols near, then flits away, +Will on a sudden upward soar, +Then give its little wanderings o'er, +For fondling, gentle, sweet repose, +When tapering pinions softly close, +Slight, warmth--pervaded quills are prest, +And head shrunk closely to the breast: +All sleeping but that lovely eye, +Which speaks delight, and asks reply: +Oh! with such graces never one +Was so much gifted as thy son! +In each variety of tone, +Each wayward charm, he stood alone; +And all too nicely pois'd to press, +Or ruffle tranquil happiness. + +If thus a stranger thinks, who knew +Him but an infant--if he grew +With all the promise that appear'd +So brightly then, still more endear'd-- +If, as the Honey with the Bee, +Affection dwells with poesy: +If that Affection is comprest, +And hoarded in a Father's breast, +Whose very soul doth blessings shed +Upon a grateful darling's head; +While every look is treasur'd there, +Till Thought itself becomes a prayer, +And Hopes hang on him full and gay. +"As blossoms on a bough in May"[1]-- +Shall any venture to intrude +On thee? Oh! not with footstep rude, +But with a timorous zeal I come, +Just hang this wreath upon his tomb-- +Record fond wishes sadly o'er, +To see my little favourite more! + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 1: + As many hopes hang on his noble head + As blossoms on a bough in May; and sweet ones! + --_Beaumont and Fletcher._] + + + + +XXV. + + +Fear has to do with sacred things, +And more than all from Pity springs. +Two school-girls once--the time is past, +But ever will the memory last-- +This moral to my fancy drew, +In colours brilliant, deep, and true. + +Mute, blooming, one all-wondering stands, +The elder kisses oft her hands, +Bends o'er with fainting, fond caress, +And languishes in strong distress. +Clings to her shoulder, were it meet, +Seems wishing to embrace her feet; +Like one impatient to implore, +Who dreads the time is nearly o'er, +To ask or to receive a boon, +Which must be known and granted soon. +A boon with life itself entwin'd, + One that her lips refus'd to name, + However oft the impulse came. +Such was the picture--but her mind +Forgetting self--could not arise, +To look in those unconscious eyes! +The zeal that prompted, were she free +To serve her friend on bended knee, +Shrunk from the orphan's gaze, just hurl'd, +Lonely and poor upon the world-- +Unknowing yet her loss, endeared, +By its excess, and therefore fear'd! + +Thus has it ever seem'd to me, +That Pity made a Deity +Of Mortal Suffering--that her ray +Melted all blame, all scorn away! +That when her arms the dying fold, +When her pure hands the loathsome hold, +Disgust and Dread, their power forego, +The Aegis drops from Human Woe, +Whose false and cruel glare alone +Turned other living hearts to stone. + + + + +XXVI. + + +ELEGY ON EDWARD BETHAM, + +_Lost in the Duchess of Gordon East Indiaman, off the Cape of Good +Hope_. + + -------- + +Lovely as are the wide and sudden calms +Upon a lake, when all the waters rise, +To smooth each undulation, and present +A plain of molten silver--is the hope, +Dear Edward, of thy safety--which now comes +To fill, expand, and elevate my heart-- +String every nerve, and give to every vein, +A warmer and a sweeter sense of life! + +Welcome, oh! welcome, that most healing hope, +Pouring abroad an efficacious ray +Into the aching bosom!--Tidings sweet +Those of such prompt return, with wisdom gain'd +By suffering, but with all thy innocence, +All thy accustomed gaiety of heart, +And all thy deep, quick sensibilities! +Those gems of virtue, which concentre still +In narrow limits, stores of moral wealth +Beyond all estimate--whose value known, +The dealer sells his other merchandize; +His ivory and curious workmanship, +The silkworm's product and the cloth of gold, +To purchase that imperishable store, +More highly prized than all!--Possessing all +The properties, most precious of the rest, +In a superior measure and degree, +Without alloy, sparkling with inward light! +Unseen, untraced the process of his growth!-- +No aid from any human hand or care!--- +No nourishment from any earthly dews! +No ripening from our bright, material sun! +But secretly supplied by Providence +With some more pure, diviner aliment, +And with more heavenly, searching radiance fill'd; +For the superior comfort, higher bliss +Of that in-drinking eye the soul of man! + +Thus sang I, when fallacious hopes were rais'd +Of his dear safety--whom, howe'er belov'd-- +However strong in health, and firmly built +Like a fine statue of the antique world, +As if he might have reach'd a century +Without decrepitude, we ne'er again-- +Nor we alone, no other human eye-- +Can e'er behold! Then had I painted him +Returning, as he lately left our shores, +With all the fairness and the bloom of youth-- +The light brown hair, and its soft yellow gleams, +Brightened with silver; thickening into shade, +Now with a dove-like, now a chesnut hue! +The smile of Peace and Love and joyful Hope! +And those blue eyes, through whose dark lash the soul, +Rejoicing, from its kind and happy home, +Look'd forth with rapture, artless, and uncheck'd! +Eyes, where Delight in careless luxury +Lay nestling and indulging blissful thoughts; +With every day-dream, for whose food the world +Offers magnificence and loveliness; +All graceful motions, and all graceful forms. +The ripened nectar of delicious sounds, +The social haunt--the lonely quiet hour; +The Hopes embodying innocent and gay +As those of Childhood, whose soft footstep past +Not long before, not yet forgotten, by! + +The letter, dearest, blotted with thy tears, +In answer to a caution--fear--express'd +By much too strongly--often gives my heart +A secret pang--but of remorse for nought +But paining thee--too tender to endure +The thought that self-indulgence, or neglect, +Causing increas'd disquietude and care, +Might, by increased disquietude and care, +Open the grave for him who gave thee birth! +How often and how warmly did'st thou ask, +With epithets of fondness, how I dar'd +Imagine such a horror, and to one +Present, who would have died, or borne extremes +Of any hard endurance, not to give +The slightest anguish to a parent's breast! +Alas! the cruel rashness of reproof-- +The busy vigilance of human pride-- +Like a too eager partizan, may strike, +To ward off danger from his chieftain's head, +A fellow soldier zealous in the cause! + +As of this world, this visible, wide world, +This earth, with all its forests, all its plants, +All its deep mines, its rivers, and its seas, +Yea! all that breathes, and moves, and clings to life +By any subtler impulse, which eludes +Our blunted observation:--as of this, +All that appears and all that is, so much +Remains, in scorn of science, unexplor'd; +So, in the not less wond'rous moral world, +The innermost recesses of the mind, +We see as little; save, Phoenician like, +By petty trade and parley on its coasts, +Talk by interpreters, impatient guess, +Or careless resting in incertitude, +At meanings in a tongue almost unknown; +Or so corrupted by this intercourse, +That all its native harmony is lost, +Its irresistible persuasions o'er! +The clearness and the sweetness of its tones, +Its loftiness, simplicity and truth. + +All that we hear is coarse and limited, +And yet we sail along and search no more, +And look no farther, though the ear is pall'd +With the vile din of tame monotony, +The taste perverted, judgment led astray, +By soul-annihilating idleness, +By universal, strengthless poverty, +Which leans upon its neighbour for support, +And lifts the eye for sanction, or assent, +To weakness still more helpless than its own! + +Two thousand years the sanctuary's veil +Has now been rent asunder, shewing all +That, to the patient and unsandall'd foot, +Egress and regress freely are allowed +Through that most glorious temple, where abstract, +And long a stranger to the vulgar eye, +Thought held her silent rule, and mission'd forth +Her sealed and unquestion'd messengers. +Yet those who follow nature when the track +Is finer than a hair--those who can cleave +The subtile and combined elements +That form a drop of water--those can shrink +From the more holy alchemy enjoin'd, +Call'd for by that disgust the heart conceives +At the usurping empire of pretence; +At all those useless and disgraceful chains, +Which tie us down, and imp with aptest wings, +Falsehood and selfishness, who ought to creep +In their own reptile slime, and dart away +When eyes perceiv'd their presence. Oh! could those +Adventure in too perilous a path, +If without other guide than the bright stars, +The love of what is lofty and divine, +Or the desire of gaining for mankind, +Now fettered and held down to poison'd food, +Its unpolluted birth-right + --they dared on, +Plunging at once into untravelled realms, +And bringing, as the harvest of their toil, +Arms which will make each potent talisman, +Each charm, and spell, and dire enchantment sink +In endless infamy--without a hope +To trick their bloated, and their wither'd limbs, +In any Proteus vestment of disguise, +Again to awe and ruinate the world. + +Oh! my dear brother, little did I think +These lines would be prophetic, yet to me +They seem so; for I since have felt deep woe, +And passed through seas of anguish to attain +A view of mysteries wonderful and sad-- +Since they are rivetted, through every clime, +With shame, and guilt, and wretchedness on all +That bear what only is the _curse_ of life, +Whilst they remain, which have confronted time, +Wearing the semblance, sporting with the names +Of truth and valour, liberty and God, +Successfully, through each recorded age, +But yet _may_ fall, and will, I trust and hope! + + + +FINIS. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vignettes in Verse, by Matilda Betham + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11194 *** diff --git a/11194-h/11194-h.htm b/11194-h/11194-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..572a788 --- /dev/null +++ b/11194-h/11194-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3145 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= + "text/html; charset=UTF-8"> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Vignettes in Verse, by Matilda + Betham. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + * { font-family: Times, serif;} + P { text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 0em; + font-size: 15pt; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: 0em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 66%; } + .2 { text-indent: 2em; } + .4 { text-indent: 3em; } + .8 { text-indent: 5em; } + CENTER { margin: 1em; font-size: 15pt; } + PRE { font-family: Courier, monospaced; } + // --> + </style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11194 ***</div> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h1> + Vignettes: + </h1> + <h2> + IN VERSE. + </h2> + <center> + <b>BY MATILDA BETHAM.</b> + </center> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + + <center> + 1818. + </center> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <center> + THESE VERSES ARE INSCRIBED<br> + TO<br> + LADY BETHAM,<br> + AS A TRIBUTE OF SINCERE RESPECT<br> + FOR HER<br> + AMIABLE QUALITIES. + </center> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <center> + ADVERTISEMENT. + </center> + <hr> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em; font-size: 9pt;"> + As far as the seventy-fourth page, these Poems have been + printed about two years; during which many things happened + likely to prevent their ever appearing. The time, however, is + now come, and I have to-day found the remainder, up to where + the lines end with + </p> + <p class="2" style="margin: 1em; font-size: 9pt;"> + "Its unpolluted birthright." + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em; font-size: 9pt;"> + On reading the whole over, they struck me with much surprise, + as they appear in a singular manner prophetic. I wrote them + with a general, and somewhat undefined view; and they now + take the aspect of speaking on what has since happened to + myself—a long seclusion, during which I was bereft of + the common means of study, having given rise to one that has + turned out far more important than I at first imagined, and + which I have continued since, to the exclusion of every other + pursuit. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em; font-size: 9pt;"> + <i>Stonkam, May 10th</i>, 1818. + </p> + <hr> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h1> + Vignettes. + </h1> + <h2> + I. + </h2> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + If writing Journals were my task, + </p> + <p class="2"> + From cottagers to kings— + </p> + <p> + A little book I'd only ask, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And fill it full of wings! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Each pair should represent a day: + </p> + <p class="2"> + On some the sun should rise, + </p> + <p> + While others bent their mournful way + </p> + <p class="2"> + Through cold and cloudy skies. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And here I would the light'ning bring + </p> + <p class="2"> + With threatening, forked glare; + </p> + <p> + And there the hallowed rainbow fling + </p> + <p class="2"> + Across the troubled air. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Some faint and wearily should glide + </p> + <p class="2"> + Their broken flight along— + </p> + <p> + While some high in the air should ride + </p> + <p class="2"> + Dilated, bold, and strong. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Some agitated and adrift, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Against their will should rove; + </p> + <p> + Some, steering forward, sure and swift, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Should scarcely seem to move— + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + While others, happiest of their kind! + </p> + <p class="2"> + Should in the ether soar, + </p> + <p> + As if no care would ever find, + </p> + <p class="2"> + No sorrow reach them more; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When soon an arrow from below + </p> + <p class="2"> + Should wound them in their flight, + </p> + <p> + And many a crimson drop should flow + </p> + <p class="2"> + Before they fell in sight. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The rapid and abrupt descent, + </p> + <p class="2"> + The stain'd and ruffled plume, + </p> + <p> + Would seem as if they were not meant + </p> + <p class="2"> + Their ardour to resume. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But soon their beauty and their force + </p> + <p class="2"> + Sweet hours of rest renew; + </p> + <p> + Full soon their light, their varied course + </p> + <p class="2"> + Careering they pursue. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Alternately to rise and fall, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Or float along the day— + </p> + <p> + And this is Fortune—This is all + </p> + <p class="2"> + I would vouchsafe to say! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="2"> + Lucy, I think not of thy beauty, + </p> + <p class="4"> + I praise not each peculiar grace; + </p> + <p class="2"> + To see thee in the path of duty, + </p> + <p class="4"> + And with that happy, smiling face, + </p> + <p> + Conveys more pleasure to thy friend, + </p> + <p> + Than any outward charm could lend. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="2"> + I see thy graceful babes caress thee, + </p> + <p class="4"> + I mark thy wise, maternal care, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And sadly do the words impress me, + </p> + <p class="4"> + The magic words—that thou art fair. + </p> + <p> + I wonder that a tongue is found + </p> + <p> + To utter the unfeeling sound! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="2"> + For, art thou not above such praises? + </p> + <p class="4"> + And is this all that they can see? + </p> + <p class="2"> + Poor is the joy such flattery raises, + </p> + <p class="4"> + And, oh! how much unworthy thee! + </p> + <p> + Unworthy one whose heart can feel + </p> + <p> + The voice of truth, the warmth of zeal! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="2"> + O Lucy, thou art snatch'd from folly, + </p> + <p class="4"> + Become too tender to be vain, + </p> + <p class="2"> + The world, it makes me melancholy, + </p> + <p class="4"> + The world would lure thee back again! + </p> + <p> + And it would cost me many sighs, + </p> + <p> + To see it win so bright a prize! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="2"> + Though passing apprehensions move me, + </p> + <p class="4"> + I know thou hast a noble heart; + </p> + <p class="2"> + But, Lucy, I so truly love thee, + </p> + <p class="4"> + So much admire thee as thou art, + </p> + <p> + That, but the shadow of a fear, + </p> + <p> + Wakes in my breast a pang sincere. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + III. + </h2> + <h3> + THE ARTISAN. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + This twilight gloom. This lone retreat—<br> + This silence to my soul is sweet!<br> + Awhile escap'd from toil and strife,<br> + And all the lesser ills of life,<br> + Here only at the evening's close,<br> + My weary spirit finds repose;<br> + My sinking heart its freedom gains,<br> + Which poverty had bound in chains! + </p> + <p> + For here unheard the moments fly—<br> + And so secure, so happy I,<br> + That, often at the very last,<br> + I feel not that my dream is past.<br> + The little hour of bliss I spend,<br> + With thee, my chosen, only friend!<br> + That transient hour the heart sustains,<br> + Which poverty has bound in chains! + </p> + <p> + And for this dear, this precious hour,<br> + I would not, if I had the power,<br> + Exchange a worldling's life of ease,<br> + Whom all around him seek to please.<br> + I have no other friend beside,<br> + But here I safely may confide.<br> + Suspicion ne'er the bosom stains,<br> + Which poverty has bound in chains! + </p> + <p> + How oft I wonder at my lot!<br> + How oft are all but thee forgot!<br> + While in this half-despairing breast,<br> + Love builds a little, quiet nest,<br> + To hover o'er with joyous wing,<br> + Nay, sometimes soar aloft and sing!<br> + 'Tis this alone the heart sustains,<br> + Which poverty has bound in chains! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + IV. + </h2> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + "Come, Edmund, now the sun goes down, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Thy many wanderings tell! + </p> + <p> + Say, after all thine eyes have seen, + </p> + <p class="2"> + If home appears so well!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "So well! alas! ye do not know + </p> + <p class="2"> + How absence can endear! + </p> + <p> + In every hill, in every tree, + </p> + <p class="2"> + A thousand charms appear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "The verdure of these English fields + </p> + <p class="2"> + Seems in my heart to glow— + </p> + <p> + There, as this shaded river winds, + </p> + <p class="2"> + I feel its waters flow. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "For, though I ventured forth so bold, + </p> + <p class="2"> + So long, so far did roam, + </p> + <p> + Affection, like a wayward child, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Still wept and murmur'd, <i>home!</i> + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "I persevered, yet still I strained + </p> + <p class="2"> + The pleader to my breast; + </p> + <p> + I hush'd her cries, but as I chid + </p> + <p class="2"> + More fondly still carest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And when I met with foreign dames + </p> + <p class="2"> + Of grace and beauty rare— + </p> + <p> + I fancied one dear village girl + </p> + <p class="2"> + Like them: but oh! how fair! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "My early playmate! oft I humm'd + </p> + <p class="2"> + The lays she lisping sung! + </p> + <p> + And sigh'd when looking on the arm, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Where she at parting hung. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Then, joy! within my native vale + </p> + <p class="2"> + To find my Ellen free! + </p> + <p> + To fancy others pleas'd her not, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Because she thought on me! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "So closely round a glowing heart + </p> + <p class="2"> + Did never flowers entwine! + </p> + <p> + Oh! ne'er was mortal spirit lull'd + </p> + <p class="2"> + With visions sweet as mine!" + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + V. + </h2> + <h3> + VALENTINE + </h3> + <h4> + <i>FROM A YOUNG LADY TO HER MOTHER.</i> + </h4> + <center> + 1811. + </center> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <h4> + It is a custom, in some parts of Norfolk and Suffolk, to send + little presents with verses on Valentine's Day, to relatives + and friends. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Hope has her emblem, so has Love, + </p> + <p class="2"> + But I have vainly sought + </p> + <p> + For one, that might entirely prove + </p> + <p class="2"> + The picture of my thought. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + If violets, when fresh with dew, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Could amaranthine be, + </p> + <p> + Their soothing, deep, and glowing hue + </p> + <p class="2"> + Would justly speak for me. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Or to some plant with tendrils fine, + </p> + <p class="2"> + With blossoms sweet and gay, + </p> + <p> + This office I would now assign; + </p> + <p class="2"> + But flowers will all decay! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + A bird would suit my purpose more, + </p> + <p class="2"> + With filial heart endued; + </p> + <p> + But, ere their little life is o'er, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Birds lose their gratitude! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + No emblem of the love I feel + </p> + <p class="2"> + Appears within my view; + </p> + <p> + Less ardent, or less pure the zeal, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Less tender, or less true! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + All I can do is to avow, + </p> + <p class="2"> + My services are thine; + </p> + <p> + And that my spirit still shall bow, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Before my Valentine. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + VI. + </h2> + <h3> + THE LOVER'S APOLOGY. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + I look'd into her eyes, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And saw something divine, + </p> + <p> + For there, like summer lightning, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Swift coruscations shine. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Still flashing, and still changing, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Attemper'd soft and bright, + </p> + <p> + Through each expression ranging, + </p> + <p class="2"> + From pity to delight. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + From high or zealous feeling, + </p> + <p class="2"> + From arch, excursive grace, + </p> + <p> + From all with which a lovely mind + </p> + <p class="2"> + Endows the human face. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Perhaps a new and careless eye + </p> + <p class="2"> + May not those beauties see, + </p> + <p> + And wonder to behold the power + </p> + <p class="2"> + Belinda has with me. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The spell which holds this captive soul + </p> + <p class="2"> + She never would possess, + </p> + <p> + Were not her varying features rul'd + </p> + <p class="2"> + By sparkling playfulness, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But when with aimless, trackless skill + </p> + <p class="2"> + Is twin'd a mazy chain, + </p> + <p> + In the warm foldings of a heart, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Perforce it must remain. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + VII. + </h2> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Come, Magdalen, and bind my hair, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And put me on my sad array; + </p> + <p> + I to my father's house repair, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And hear his final doom to-day. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But wrap me in that cypress veil; + </p> + <p class="2"> + At first his eye I would not brave, + </p> + <p> + 'Till he shall bid the mourner hail, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And knows I come from Edwin's grave. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + I, late his boast, his heir, his pride, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Must like a guilty vassal kneel; + </p> + <p> + I, who was gallant Edwin's bride, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Must to my widow'd state appeal! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Closely within my heart must keep + </p> + <p class="2"> + His praise for whom that heart is riv'n, + </p> + <p> + And let each fond resentment sleep, + </p> + <p class="2"> + For I must die or be forgiven. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + VIII. + </h2> + <h4> + <i>The Spanish Lady's Farewell</i>, 1809. + </h4> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Manuel, I do not shed a tear, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Our parting to delay! + </p> + <p> + I dare not listen to my fear! + </p> + <p class="2"> + I dare not bid thee stay! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The heart may shrink, the spirit fail, + </p> + <p class="2"> + But Spaniards must be free; + </p> + <p> + And pride and duty shall prevail + </p> + <p class="2"> + O'er all my love for thee! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Then go! and round that gallant head, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Like banners in the air, + </p> + <p> + Shall float full many a daring hope, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And many a tender prayer! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Should freedom perish—at thy death, + </p> + <p class="2"> + 'T'were folly to repine— + </p> + <p> + And I should every feeling lose, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Except the wish for mine! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But if the destiny of Spain, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Be once again to rise, + </p> + <p> + Oh! grant me heaven, to read the tale, + </p> + <p class="2"> + In Manuel's joyful eyes! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + IX. + </h2> + <h3> + SONNET. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="2"> + I am unskill'd in speech: my tongue is slow + </p> + <p> + The graceful courtesies of life to pay; + </p> + <p> + To deck kind meanings up in trim array, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Keeping the mind's soft tone: words such as flow + </p> + <p class="2"> + From Complaisance, when she alone inspires! + </p> + <p class="2"> + And Caution, with a care that never tires, + </p> + <p> + Marshals each tribe of thoughts in such a way + </p> + <p class="2"> + That all are ready for their needful task, + </p> + <p class="2"> + The moment the occasion comes to ask, + </p> + <p> + All prompt to hear, to answer and obey; + </p> + <p> + When mine, undisciplin'd, their cause betray, + </p> + <p class="2"> + By coward falterings, or rebellious zeal!— + </p> + <p> + And Art, though subtle, though sublime thy sway, + </p> + <p class="2"> + I doubt if thou canst rule us, when we feel! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + X. + </h2> + <h3> + ALL' AMICA. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + And didst thou think that worldly art<br> + Would mould anew this shrinking heart?<br> + No! as a bird, by storms opprest,<br> + Is sheltered in its silent nest,<br> + I nurse and soothe it in the strife,<br> + Screen from the bleakest airs of life,<br> + And bring it all that once you knew,<br> + As kind, as timid, and as true! + </p> + <p> + But how could I so foolish be,<br> + As not to feel a doubt of thee?—<br> + This joy to find me still the same<br> + Takes from my lip the power to blame;<br> + Else, but forgive me, else I find<br> + A mist has stolen o'er thy mind,<br> + And veil'd my prospect; dimm'd that light<br> + Which once was warm, and clear, and bright. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XI. + </h2> + <h3> + TO THE SAME. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Go forth, my voice, through the wild air, + </p> + <p class="2"> + In the lone stillness of the night, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Beneath the cold moon's pale blue light; + </p> + <p> + Seek Eugenia, and declare, + </p> + <p> + As warmth and promise lurk below + </p> + <p> + A waste of lifeless, drifted snow; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + So, while my lips inertly move, + </p> + <p class="2"> + While many heavy fetters bind, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And press upon my languid mind, + </p> + <p> + Oh! tell her not to doubt my love! + </p> + <p> + Affection still her hold shall keep, + </p> + <p> + Although her weary servants sleep. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Friendship to me is like a flower, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Yielding a balm for human woe, + </p> + <p class="2"> + I less than ever could forego; + </p> + <p> + More prized, more needed every hour! + </p> + <p> + Perchance it dies for want of care, + </p> + <p> + But as it withers, I despair! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XII. + </h2> + <h3> + <i>To the late Lady Rouse Boughton</i>. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + 'Tis said, that jealous of a name + </p> + <p class="2"> + We all would praise confine, + </p> + <p> + And choke the leading path to fame + </p> + <p class="2"> + In our peculiar line. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But vainly should detraction preach + </p> + <p class="2"> + If once I made it known, + </p> + <p> + The art of pleasing thou would'st teach + </p> + <p class="2"> + Acknowledg'd for thy own. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XIII. + </h2> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Yes! I can suffer, sink with pain,<br> + With anguish I can ill sustain;<br> + Till not a hope has strength to spring,<br> + Till scarce a prayer can lift its wing;<br> + Yet in my inmost heart there lies<br> + A living fount that will arise,<br> + And, of itself, diffuse a balm,<br> + A healing and refreshing calm,<br> + A pure delight, a cooling glow,<br> + Which Hate and Meanness cannot know! + </p> + <p> + Yes! I can faint, and I can fear,<br> + The power of petty creatures here,<br> + Who trick dark deeds in gay disguise,<br> + And weave their web of brooded lies,<br> + With so few threads made smooth and fair,<br> + All seems plain sense and reason there;<br> + And yet I would not learn their art,<br> + Nor have their paltry spells by heart,<br> + Their rankling blood within my veins,<br> + For all the treasure earth contains! + </p> + <p> + Oft, panic-struck, I sink, dismay'd,<br> + Call, with expiring faith, for aid;<br> + When all my efforts useless seem,<br> + Emptied of force as in a dream,<br> + My courage knows to persevere,<br> + Entwin'd, o'ergrown, o'ertowered by fear!<br> + As he who summoned in the night,<br> + At sudden wreck, in wild affright,<br> + Once throws his arms around a mast,<br> + Continues still to hold it fast,<br> + When sight and strength and aim are flown,<br> + When cold, benumb'd, and senseless grown,<br> + My soul, by hurrying tempests driven,<br> + Though blinded from the light of Heaven,<br> + Clinging, all hope, all comfort o'er,<br> + Must yet awaken on the shore! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XIV. + </h2> + <h3> + TO MR. AND MRS. EVERARD, + </h3> + <h4> + <i>On their only Son's being in the Navy</i>, 1811. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Talent and beauty, and the heart's warm glow,<br> + Gilding with Heavenly light his path below,<br> + Few with such rare felicity have won,<br> + In that rich prize, a dear and only son;<br> + And fewer but those faculties would doom<br> + To the soft prison of a pamper'd home;<br> + Check his bold wishes when they soar'd on high,<br> + And see well-pleas'd each early vision die;<br> + But ye, enweaving, as to me appears,<br> + With his bright hopes, those of maturer years,<br> + Hallowing the web, with all that parents feel,<br> + The saintly trust in Heav'n, the patriot's zeal,<br> + The aching doubts, that still tenacious wind<br> + Around the lofty and the tender mind;<br> + Ye, with a more than Roman virtue, yield,<br> + To the proud strife of Albion's liquid field,<br> + This darling; and, in whispers, bid him wear<br> + The finest wreath that buds and blossoms there;<br> + And I could almost say I heard a strain<br> + Pronounce—the sacrifice should not be vain! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XV. + </h2> + <h3> + TO THE HON. LADY J——, + </h3> + <h4> + <i>With the Picture of her Grand-daughter, the present Lady + Petre.</i> + </h4> + <center> + 1813. + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Behold the semblance of thy flower! + </p> + <p class="2"> + I could not fill its leaves with dew, + </p> + <p> + Shew its tints varying with the hour, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Its motion as the zephyrs blew. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And beauty too were more complete, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Appearing on the native stem, + </p> + <p> + In midst of buds and blossoms sweet, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And catching graces, charms from them. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Or blooming under eyes like thine, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Whose fond, soft gaze, whose tender tear, + </p> + <p> + Must also, losing power divine, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Awake no answering sweetness here. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + For much of loveliness must sleep, + </p> + <p class="2"> + E'en when inspir'd and led by truth; + </p> + <p> + The faithful pencil aims to keep + </p> + <p class="2"> + Mildness and innocence and youth. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XVI. + </h2> + <h3> + To MRS. A. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + An Hour was before me, no creature more bright,<br> + More airy, more joyous, e'er sprang on my sight.<br> + To catch and to fetter I instantly tried,<br> + And "thou art my slave, pretty vagrant," I cried. + </p> + <p> + I had hold, and securely I thought, of its wing,<br> + O! how I shall glory, so lovely a thing<br> + To place by the cradle of friendship, and see,<br> + With the aid of my captive, if I can be free. + </p> + <p> + Oh! while she is with me, some means may be found<br> + To temper the air and to hallow the ground—<br> + To make those entangling bind-weeds decay,<br> + Drive Suspicion, who rear'd them, for ever away,<br> + And leave all around, kind, and healthful, and gay! + </p> + <p> + When this can be compass'd, I'll build me a bower,<br> + And twine in the trellice each sweet-scented + flower—<br> + Rare, delicate plants, whose large, fresh leaves shall + fling<br> + Green shadows, where birds in the stillness may sing. + </p> + <p> + A place of repose, when the spirit is faint,<br> + And the heart wants to utter a passing complaint:<br> + Of safety; for pure and serene be the air,<br> + And nothing unkind or unholy be there! + </p> + <p> + In this sacred retreat I my cares would confide,<br> + And there my half-forming opinions should hide;<br> + If true, gather strength for the brightness of + day—<br> + If false, in the shade, unreprov'd, die away! + </p> + <p> + How fondly I nourish'd these hopes, but in vain!<br> + The calm and the stillness I could not retain;<br> + My Hour fled away, every wish unfulfill'd,<br> + And warm'd not the Friendship Suspicion had chill'd! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XVII. + </h2> + <h3> + LINES + </h3> + <h3> + <i>Sent to a Brother on his leaving England</i>. + </h3> + <h3> + May 2, 1816. + </h3> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <h3> + FANCIFUL BOUQUET. + </h3> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + <i>Hopes</i> all glowing, <i>Wishes</i> rare, + </p> + <p class="2"> + <i>Blessings</i> mixed with many a <i>Prayer</i>, + </p> + <p> + Flowers as yet beyond compare, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Though flourishing in northern air. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + <i>Farewells</i> twined with tender <i>Fears</i>, + </p> + <p class="2"> + <i>Golden day-dreams</i>, gemm'd with tears, + </p> + <p> + <i>Affections</i> nurtur'd many years, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Before this perfect bloom appears. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + <i>Thoughts</i> of fondness and of pride, + </p> + <p class="2"> + <i>Love-vanities</i> we need not hide; + </p> + <p> + <i>Heart-blossoms</i>, in its crimson dyed, + </p> + <p class="2"> + For you, are here together tied. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And yet they all appear too poor, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Though goodness can ensure no more; + </p> + <p> + Though monarchs, whom the world adore, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Would purchase such with all their store. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And while this charmed gift we send, + </p> + <p class="2"> + We know where'er your footsteps bend, + </p> + <p> + The looks and tones that win the friend, + </p> + <p class="2"> + That kindness, nature, truth, attend, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Are yours, and must be with you still, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Angelic guards, go where they will, + </p> + <p> + To ward off much surrounding ill, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And happiest destinies fulfil. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XVIII. + </h2> + <h4> + <i>Written jointly with a particular Friend, after a + conversation similar to the subject, with the Damon of the + Story</i>. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Believing love was all a bubble, + </p> + <p> + And wooing but a needless trouble, + </p> + <p> + Damon grew fond of posied rings, + </p> + <p> + And many such romantic things; + </p> + <p> + But whether it were Fortune's spite, + </p> + <p> + That study wound his brain too tight, + </p> + <p> + Or that his fancy play'd him tricks, + </p> + <p> + He could not on the lady fix. + </p> + <p class="4"> + He look'd around, + </p> + <p class="4"> + And often found, + </p> + <p> + A damsel passing fair; + </p> + <p class="4"> + "<i>She's good enough,</i>" he then would cry, + </p> + <p class="4"> + And rub his hands, and wink his eye, + </p> + <p> + "<i>I'll be enamour'd there!</i>" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + He thus resolved; but had not power + </p> + <p> + To hold the humour "<i>half an hour</i>"— + </p> + <p> + And critics, vers'd in Cupid's laws, + </p> + <p> + Pretended they had found a clause, + </p> + <p class="4"> + In an old volume on the shelf;— + </p> + <p> + Which said, if arrows chanc'd to fly, + </p> + <p> + When no bright nymph was passing by, + </p> + <p> + And lighted on a vacant breast; + </p> + <p> + The swain, Narcissus-like possest, + </p> + <p class="4"> + Strait doated on himself! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + If so, his anxious friends declar'd<br> + All future trouble might be spar'd:<br> + A heart thus pierc'd would never rove,<br> + Nor meanly seek a second love;<br> + No distance e'er could give him pain—<br> + No rivalry torment his brain.<br> + Self-love will bear a many knocks,<br> + A thousand mortifying shocks;<br> + One moment languish in despair,<br> + The next alert and debonair. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Poor Damon bit his nails and sigh'd,<br> + But still he was not satisfied;<br> + He could not rest, nor be content,<br> + Until to Cupid's court he went.<br> + Of rules establish'd in the place,<br> + Or, how to enter with a grace,<br> + He own'd he neither knew nor car'd,<br> + But thought <i>such nonsense better spar'd</i>,<br> + And went undaunted and alone<br> + To place himself before the throne.<br> + He kiss'd no hand, he bent no knee,<br> + Nor measur'd steps of one, two, three,<br> + But made a careless, slouching bow,<br> + And said, "Your highness will allow,<br> + That I am personable, tall,<br> + A rather handsome face withal,<br> + And fit to serve as volunteer,<br> + At least as any present here!<br> + Purblind, and deaf, and long and short,<br> + Without distinction here resort;<br> + Whilst I, neglected and forgot,<br> + Sate daily watching in my cot;<br> + And scarcely stirr'd, for fear there might,<br> + Arrive that morning or that night<br> + A captaincy, or some commission,<br> + For I confess I have ambition,<br> + And think if none had done me wrong<br> + I had not been o'erlook'd so long.<br> + To come then, Sir, I thought my duty,<br> + Oh! make me sensible to beauty!<br> + The ice about my bosom melt!<br> + Infuse a warmth it never felt!<br> + I come uncall'd! excuse my boldness!<br> + In truth I could not bear the coldness!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Half piqued to see him thus intrude, + </p> + <p> + And question in a way so rude; + </p> + <p> + Half tickled at the strange address, + </p> + <p> + Cupid said gravely, "We confess + </p> + <p class="4"> + There may be reason in your plea; + </p> + <p> + But still we very much admire + </p> + <p> + Your entering in such strange attire! + </p> + <p class="4"> + We cannot such omissions see, + </p> + <p> + And countenance—It should appear, + </p> + <p> + You know not we are sovereign here! + </p> + <p> + The soldiers of our chosen band + </p> + <p> + Approach not till we give command. + </p> + <p> + We every look and action sway, + </p> + <p> + And they with prompt delight obey. + </p> + <p> + For height, and size, and such like things, + </p> + <p> + We care far less than other kings; + </p> + <p> + But station, learning, no pretence, + </p> + <p> + Can make us with our power dispense. + </p> + <p> + The warrior must not here look big, + </p> + <p> + The lawyer doffs his forked wig, + </p> + <p> + The portly merchant rich and free, + </p> + <p> + Forgets his pride and bends the knee; + </p> + <p> + The doctor gives his terrors scope, + </p> + <p> + And, like a patient, whines for hope; + </p> + <p> + In short the wise have childish fits, + </p> + <p> + And fools and madmen find their wits. + </p> + <p> + "Then go—this silly pride subdue, + </p> + <p> + And thou shall be our servant too! + </p> + <p> + Acquire the courtly way of speech, + </p> + <p> + Not, 'do you hear?' but, 'I beseech.' + </p> + <p> + And let a suitor's voice and air, + </p> + <p> + Thy grievances and zeal declare, + </p> + <p> + We never scorn a humble prayer!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Expecting then a heart submiss, + </p> + <p> + He held him forth his hand to kiss; + </p> + <p> + For petrified the while he spoke, + </p> + <p> + With troubled wonder in his look + </p> + <p> + Poor Damon stood; aghast, suspended, + </p> + <p> + But gain'd his senses as he ended; + </p> + <p> + Abruptly turning on his toe, + </p> + <p> + "I thank you, Master Cupid, no! + </p> + <p> + I am a freeman and a brave, + </p> + <p> + And will not stoop to be a slave. + </p> + <p> + Your rules will never do for me, + </p> + <p> + I'd rather learn the rule of three— + </p> + <p> + "And since I find it is the plan, + </p> + <p> + To make me an automaton, + </p> + <p> + I'll case my heart in triple mail, + </p> + <p class="4"> + And fence it so completely round, + </p> + <p> + That all this vaunted skill shall fail, + </p> + <p class="4"> + Those blunted arrows back rebound; + </p> + <p> + For know, usurper! from this hour, + </p> + <p> + I scorn thy laws, abjure thy power! + </p> + <p> + From this dear moment I despise + </p> + <p> + The whole artillery of eyes; + </p> + <p> + Reason alone shall be my guide, + </p> + <p> + And Reason's voice shall win my bride. + </p> + <p> + Some bonny lass shall say I can + </p> + <p> + Love you as well as any man; + </p> + <p> + I will the self-same troth accord, + </p> + <p> + Most gladly take her at her word; + </p> + <p> + And we may just as happy prove + </p> + <p> + Without the fooleries of love. + </p> + <p> + She must not ask so much attention, + </p> + <p> + As many ladies I could mention; + </p> + <p> + But when I do not want to sway, + </p> + <p> + I'll always let her have her way; + </p> + <p> + And study to oblige her too, + </p> + <p> + When I have nothing else to do; + </p> + <p> + And am not tired, or wish to rest, + </p> + <p> + Or like some other plan the best, + </p> + <p> + For, more than this would be a task, + </p> + <p> + None but thy votaries would ask. + </p> + <p> + She must have riches, beauty, grace, + </p> + <p> + And modest sweetness in her face." + </p> + <p> + Just then he saw a scornful sneer + </p> + <p> + Upon Dan Cupid's face appear; + </p> + <p> + While courtiers whispered with a grin, + </p> + <p> + "Poor fellow, he'll be taken in! + </p> + <p> + The finest birds are always shy, + </p> + <p> + The rarest at a distance fly, + </p> + <p> + And Reason cannot soar so high." + </p> + <p> + "Aye, you may laugh, to prove her mind + </p> + <p> + At once exalted and refined, + </p> + <p> + I'll watch her skill in music's art; + </p> + <p> + By ear and fingers judge the heart, + </p> + <p> + And then it will not be believ'd + </p> + <p> + I can be easily deceiv'd. + </p> + <p> + I only grieve that in my prime + </p> + <p> + I've wasted so much precious time, + </p> + <p> + For long ere this I might have married, + </p> + <p> + Had I not so unwisely tarried, + </p> + <p> + And vex'd my brains in looking round + </p> + <p> + For that which never could be found." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And would'st thou wish," the monarch cried, + </p> + <p> + "To set our gentle laws aside? + </p> + <p> + Thou hast no friend in Common Sense, + </p> + <p> + In such affairs she thinks it wisest, + </p> + <p> + To stand aside without pretence, + </p> + <p> + And sanction laws which thou despisest. + </p> + <p> + But try the plan, it merits praise, + </p> + <p> + Success may crown its winning ways! + </p> + <p> + The lady must be blind indeed, + </p> + <p class="4"> + With whom such offers of neglect, + </p> + <p class="4"> + And cool, habitual disrespect + </p> + <p> + Would not succeed. + </p> + <p> + But come no longer here to flout us, + </p> + <p> + Since, truly, thou canst do without us; + </p> + <p> + For dignity is lost in sport, + </p> + <p> + An outlaw for contempt of court; + </p> + <p> + We banish thee with all thy pride + </p> + <p> + Until thy heart be rarified." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XIX. + </h2> + <h3> + ABSENCE. + </h3> + <h4> + <i>Written in Derbyshire, by the same Friend.</i> + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + When recollection brings to mind, + </p> + <p> + The kindred ties I've left behind, + </p> + <p> + The converse gentle and refin'd, + </p> + <p class="8"> + I grieve! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Deep the regret, the pain extreme, + </p> + <p> + And yet I fondly love the dream, + </p> + <p> + And find the sad, delightful theme + </p> + <p class="8"> + Relieve. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + It bids all present forms decay, + </p> + <p> + All present feelings fade away; + </p> + <p> + Impeding distance, long delay + </p> + <p class="8"> + Are o'er! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Fancy, so active in the gloom, + </p> + <p> + Till some one enters in the room, + </p> + <p> + Can all the images of home + </p> + <p class="8"> + Restore. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Alas! when weeks, and months are past, + </p> + <p> + Shall I that home behold at last, + </p> + <p> + Which even the dark clouds overcast + </p> + <p class="8"> + Endear? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Lest one of all the cares that dart + </p> + <p> + Like arrows round each thoughtful heart, + </p> + <p> + May pierce ere then some vital part + </p> + <p class="8"> + I fear! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XX. + </h2> + <h4> + <i>On reading in Savary's Travels the death of Ali Bey, who, + it is there represented, in the midst of enlightened and + benevolent efforts to benefit his country, was repeatedly + betrayed, and at length taken captive by his brother-in-law, + whom he had advanced and loved, and who, till the very last, + he could not believe to be his enemy</i>. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + O generous Ali! while thy fate inspires<br> + Indignant pity, with a patriot's fires,<br> + I mourn for Egypt, and with equal zeal,<br> + For her, for thee, and ruin'd science feel:<br> + Admire the confidence my heart deplores<br> + And blame the weakness it almost adores! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Pride of thy race! before my mental eyes,<br> + I see thee, like another Alfred rise;<br> + See honour splendent on thy ample brow,<br> + While Thought and Genius fill the orbs below;<br> + Those beaming orbs! where lofty sweetness shone,<br> + And where the soul sate smiling on her throne:<br> + Depriv'd too soon of that benignant ray,<br> + Which impious Dahab shudder'd to survey.<br> + Pale, bleeding, conquer'd, dying, and forlorn,<br> + I see thee view the wretch with silent scorn!<br> + See thy cheek flush at the false tears he shed,<br> + And proudly turn away the languid head,<br> + With mingled anger, sorrow, and disdain,<br> + That he should dare to tempt thy love again! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! yet within the tent I see thee lie,<br> + The victor, like a coward, crouching by;<br> + O'erawed, rebuked, and humbled in the hour,<br> + The plenitude of his success and power!<br> + A pain the guilty never make us know,<br> + In all the miseries they cause below;<br> + A pain which they in every triumph feel,<br> + A humbling sense no glory yet could heal,<br> + The want of conscious worth, the poignant thought,<br> + That inwardly sets all pretence at naught!<br> + That curbs all self-applause—tears all + disguise—<br> + When the subdued, the ruin'd can <i>despise</i>;<br> + And, in the arms of death, can yet be free,<br> + To say, "Let me be any thing but thee!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ambition! while thy zeal the good inflame,<br> + And make a noble nature sigh for fame,<br> + We deem thee of a more than royal line,<br> + For self-devotion tendeth to divine!<br> + But when, like Dahab's demon, selfish, vain,<br> + It loosens Gratitude's mysterious chain;<br> + When broken Faith aloud, but vainly calls;<br> + When the warm friend, the king, the brother falls;<br> + Instead of honours, and a conqueror's fame,<br> + Hatred shall haunt, and curses brand thy name! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XXI. + </h2> + <h3> + LINES. + </h3> + <h4> + <i>Written for a Young Gentleman to speak at the Audit at St. + Saviour's School, Southwark, after the Battle of + Trafalgar</i>. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + While others, from the Greek and Roman page,<br> + Declare the prudent councils of the sage;<br> + Or, in recital of achievements bold,<br> + Retrace the motives and the deeds of old,<br> + I, in the accents of my native clime,<br> + And, at the moment, shaking hands with Time,<br> + I, whom our recent loss forbids to roam,<br> + Shall plant my mourning standard nearer home!<br> + At the sad shrine where gallant Nelson sleeps,<br> + Where Britain bends her lofty head and weeps,<br> + Deeply lamenting that she cannot prove,<br> + The fond excess of dearly purchas'd love. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Is there a callous mind, that does not feel<br> + An anxious interest in the public weal!<br> + Is there a heart that pities not the brave!<br> + To whom luxuriant laurels hide the grave!<br> + A grief unwing'd, yet unconsol'd by pride!<br> + A tongue that said not, when our hero died,<br> + While bitter tears that glorious loss deplore,<br> + The man who <i>lov'd his country</i> is no more?<br> + No! in each eye the glowing trophies fade;<br> + Each sign of triumph seems a vain parade!<br> + The aching sigh to conquering shouts succeeds,<br> + And Victory assumes a widow's weeds. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Some wily chieftain, building up a name,<br> + May fight for immortality and fame;<br> + Time may embalm his valour, or his art,<br> + And History shew the coldness of a heart,<br> + Which, emulous of grandeur and a throne,<br> + Acts for itself, "<i>its own low self</i>" alone;<br> + And, in the inner chambers of the mind,<br> + Broods over plans to subjugate mankind:<br> + There fondly bends each nation to his sway,<br> + That he may rule, and all beside obey.<br> + Haply the mighty fabric may arise,<br> + Vast in its bulk, and aiming at the skies,<br> + Till Wisdom, viewing the enormous pile,<br> + Admires the madness of a man the while,<br> + Who labours with incessant toil and skill;<br> + To feed Ambition, discontented still;<br> + And for that serpent in his bosom curl'd,<br> + Erects a temple fit to hold the world! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Though such a chief a deathless wreath may crown,<br> + Though he may win a sterile, hard renown,<br> + His name shall ne'er a sudden glow impart,<br> + Nor make the tear of admiration start;<br> + Ne'er in his plaudits shall warm blessings join!<br> + None cry, "The triumph of that man is mine!"<br> + But, when his greatness crumbles in the dust,<br> + Coldly exclaim, "Lo! Providence is just!"<br> + Far different is the patriot warrior's lot!<br> + He may in Time's long journey be forgot;<br> + Though many generations shall decay,<br> + Ere England's love to Nelson wears away!<br> + But if at length successive years should cast<br> + The mist of distance upon ages past,<br> + And fathers what themselves have witness'd tell,<br> + Of those who yet shall serve their country + well—<br> + Memory and Knowledge shall dispel the gloom,<br> + And shed strong light on every honour'd tomb—<br> + To lift the spirit when our courage fail,<br> + When worth departed, future ages hail! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And ye, compeers, who in the classic page,<br> + Do homage to the hero and the sage,<br> + Whose hearts at base and cruel actions bleed,<br> + But rise triumphant at a noble deed—<br> + Forbear from Duty's anxious side to stray,<br> + But follow bravely when she leads the way;<br> + Follow with head and heart, as Nelson fought;<br> + Be vigilant like him in act and thought;<br> + Then, as the lark mounts upwards in the skies,<br> + Early in life's fair morning will you rise,<br> + Expand bold pinions nearest to the sun,<br> + And claim the meed of glory fairly won. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XXII. + </h2> + <h3> + TO THE HETMAN, PLATOFF. + </h3> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + O ancient warrior! as we hail thee, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And behold thy cordial smile, + </p> + <p> + We hope that greetings ne'er may fail thee, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Such as those of Britain's isle. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + They are, although so seeming rude, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Given only where we think them due; + </p> + <p> + Most courteous, e'en when they intrude, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Too vehement, but always true! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Applauses which no art can fashion, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Which speak the feelings and no more; + </p> + <p> + Which give respect the glow of passion, + </p> + <p class="2"> + When worth and valour we adore; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Blest is the hero in receiving! + </p> + <p class="2"> + And pride may scoff at, or despise, + </p> + <p> + What if but once sincere believing, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Is grateful to the good and wise. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XXIII. + </h2> + <h4> + <i>On the Death of Master Frederic Thomson</i>. + </h4> + <center> + 1810. + </center> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + In the first dawn of youth I much admire<br> + The lively boy of ruddy countenance,<br> + Strong-built, and bold, and hardy, with black hair,<br> + And dark brown eye, contrasting its blue-white,<br> + Somewhat abruptly; save in the bright hour<br> + Of inward passion, or of sudden joy;<br> + When, as a monarch, gracious and renown'd,<br> + Amid a crowd of subjects, diverse all,<br> + Thrills with one deep, soft feeling every heart;<br> + Or, as the sun throws his pervading beams<br> + At once on bleak harsh mountains and the sky;<br> + The soul, by union of its light and heat,<br> + Clears and irradiates all, and gives to strength<br> + A mellow sweetness; hues late undefin'd<br> + Grow more intense, or, if discordant, lose<br> + Their coarseness, and become diaphanous.<br> + This I admire, but still methinks I look<br> + With a serener pleasure on the head<br> + Crested by flaxen curls; or where soft locks,<br> + Like to long coiling leaves that lose their edge,<br> + Shine silken on the cheek, and parting smooth<br> + Above a fair and modest countenance,<br> + Harmonize with its pure, its tender bloom.<br> + Still lovelier when with that infusion sweet<br> + Of saint or angel spirit, resident<br> + In the calm circle of a blue eye fring'd<br> + With sable lashes! I remember once<br> + A face like this, ere sickness took away<br> + Its freshness, in whose looks there also dwelt,<br> + If one may speak it of a thing so young,<br> + And not subdue our warm belief to say<br> + The prophecy of all these qualities,<br> + Refinement, gentleness, and mild resolve;<br> + Fitted to stem the evil of this world,<br> + And hold with patient intrepidity,<br> + The shield of calm resistance to its power.<br> + It seem'd as if no anger e'er could dwell<br> + Within his bosom; no blind prejudice<br> + Distract his judgment; and no folly call<br> + For a reproof: as if Affection were<br> + Too soon allied to Thought, and tempered so<br> + His morning, that the ministry of Time,<br> + The chast'ning trial of Remorse and Grief,<br> + And of stern Disappointment, all were spar'd. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XXIV. + </h2> + <h4> + <i>On the Death of Herbert Southey: addressed to his + Father</i>. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Knowing the nature of thy grief,<br> + Too deep, too recent for relief,<br> + Oh! why impatient must I press<br> + So early on a friend's distress!<br> + Why am I eager thus to prove,<br> + To him who feels excess of love,<br> + The tender liking we bestow<br> + On fair and guileless things below?<br> + On Love and Joy without pretence,<br> + On kind and playful Innocence!<br> + The pleas'd idea Memory kept,<br> + The partial glance which never slept,<br> + When hopes arose oft render'd vain,<br> + Of seeing Keswick yet again. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Never but once a child had won<br> + So much upon me as thy son;<br> + And, for each wild and winning art,<br> + That, nestling, fastens in the heart;<br> + For graces that light tendrils fling<br> + Around each nerve's tenacious string;<br> + Caprices beautiful, that strike<br> + The heart, and captive fancy, like<br> + Those of a tame, young bird at play,<br> + That carols near, then flits away,<br> + Will on a sudden upward soar,<br> + Then give its little wanderings o'er,<br> + For fondling, gentle, sweet repose,<br> + When tapering pinions softly close,<br> + Slight, warmth—pervaded quills are prest,<br> + And head shrunk closely to the breast:<br> + All sleeping but that lovely eye,<br> + Which speaks delight, and asks reply:<br> + Oh! with such graces never one<br> + Was so much gifted as thy son!<br> + In each variety of tone,<br> + Each wayward charm, he stood alone;<br> + And all too nicely pois'd to press,<br> + Or ruffle tranquil happiness. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + If thus a stranger thinks, who knew<br> + Him but an infant—if he grew<br> + With all the promise that appear'd<br> + So brightly then, still more endear'd—<br> + If, as the Honey with the Bee,<br> + Affection dwells with poesy:<br> + If that Affection is comprest,<br> + And hoarded in a Father's breast,<br> + Whose very soul doth blessings shed<br> + Upon a grateful darling's head;<br> + While every look is treasur'd there,<br> + Till Thought itself becomes a prayer,<br> + And Hopes hang on him full and gay.<br> + "As blossoms on a bough in May"[1]—<br> + Shall any venture to intrude<br> + On thee? Oh! not with footstep rude,<br> + But with a timorous zeal I come,<br> + Just hang this wreath upon his tomb—<br> + Record fond wishes sadly o'er,<br> + To see my little favourite more! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <p> + [Footnote 1: + </p> + <p class="2"> + As many hopes hang on his noble head + </p> + <p class="2"> + As blossoms on a bough in May; and sweet ones! + </p> + <p class="8"> + <i>Beaumont and Fletcher.</i>] + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XXV. + </h2> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Fear has to do with sacred things,<br> + And more than all from Pity springs.<br> + Two school-girls once—the time is past,<br> + But ever will the memory last—<br> + This moral to my fancy drew,<br> + In colours brilliant, deep, and true. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Mute, blooming, one all-wondering stands, + </p> + <p> + The elder kisses oft her hands, + </p> + <p> + Bends o'er with fainting, fond caress, + </p> + <p> + And languishes in strong distress. + </p> + <p> + Clings to her shoulder, were it meet, + </p> + <p> + Seems wishing to embrace her feet; + </p> + <p> + Like one impatient to implore, + </p> + <p> + Who dreads the time is nearly o'er, + </p> + <p> + To ask or to receive a boon, + </p> + <p> + Which must be known and granted soon. + </p> + <p> + A boon with life itself entwin'd, + </p> + <p class="2"> + One that her lips refus'd to name, + </p> + <p class="2"> + However oft the impulse came. + </p> + <p> + Such was the picture—but her mind + </p> + <p> + Forgetting self—could not arise, + </p> + <p> + To look in those unconscious eyes! + </p> + <p> + The zeal that prompted, were she free + </p> + <p> + To serve her friend on bended knee, + </p> + <p> + Shrunk from the orphan's gaze, just hurl'd, + </p> + <p> + Lonely and poor upon the world— + </p> + <p> + Unknowing yet her loss, endeared, + </p> + <p> + By its excess, and therefore fear'd! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Thus has it ever seem'd to me,<br> + That Pity made a Deity<br> + Of Mortal Suffering—that her ray<br> + Melted all blame, all scorn away!<br> + That when her arms the dying fold,<br> + When her pure hands the loathsome hold,<br> + Disgust and Dread, their power forego,<br> + The Aegis drops from Human Woe,<br> + Whose false and cruel glare alone<br> + Turned other living hearts to stone. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XXVI. + </h2> + <h3> + ELEGY ON EDWARD BETHAM, + </h3> + <h4> + <i>Lost in the Duchess of Gordon East Indiaman, off the Cape + of Good Hope</i>. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Lovely as are the wide and sudden calms<br> + Upon a lake, when all the waters rise,<br> + To smooth each undulation, and present<br> + A plain of molten silver—is the hope,<br> + Dear Edward, of thy safety—which now comes<br> + To fill, expand, and elevate my heart—<br> + String every nerve, and give to every vein,<br> + A warmer and a sweeter sense of life! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Welcome, oh! welcome, that most healing hope,<br> + Pouring abroad an efficacious ray<br> + Into the aching bosom!—Tidings sweet<br> + Those of such prompt return, with wisdom gain'd<br> + By suffering, but with all thy innocence,<br> + All thy accustomed gaiety of heart,<br> + And all thy deep, quick sensibilities!<br> + Those gems of virtue, which concentre still<br> + In narrow limits, stores of moral wealth<br> + Beyond all estimate—whose value known,<br> + The dealer sells his other merchandize;<br> + His ivory and curious workmanship,<br> + The silkworm's product and the cloth of gold,<br> + To purchase that imperishable store,<br> + More highly prized than all!—Possessing all<br> + The properties, most precious of the rest,<br> + In a superior measure and degree,<br> + Without alloy, sparkling with inward light!<br> + Unseen, untraced the process of his growth!—<br> + No aid from any human hand or care!—-<br> + No nourishment from any earthly dews!<br> + No ripening from our bright, material sun!<br> + But secretly supplied by Providence<br> + With some more pure, diviner aliment,<br> + And with more heavenly, searching radiance fill'd;<br> + For the superior comfort, higher bliss<br> + Of that in-drinking eye the soul of man! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Thus sang I, when fallacious hopes were rais'd<br> + Of his dear safety—whom, howe'er + belov'd—<br> + However strong in health, and firmly built<br> + Like a fine statue of the antique world,<br> + As if he might have reach'd a century<br> + Without decrepitude, we ne'er again—<br> + Nor we alone, no other human eye—<br> + Can e'er behold! Then had I painted him<br> + Returning, as he lately left our shores,<br> + With all the fairness and the bloom of youth—<br> + The light brown hair, and its soft yellow gleams,<br> + Brightened with silver; thickening into shade,<br> + Now with a dove-like, now a chesnut hue!<br> + The smile of Peace and Love and joyful Hope!<br> + And those blue eyes, through whose dark lash the + soul,<br> + Rejoicing, from its kind and happy home,<br> + Look'd forth with rapture, artless, and uncheck'd!<br> + Eyes, where Delight in careless luxury<br> + Lay nestling and indulging blissful thoughts;<br> + With every day-dream, for whose food the world<br> + Offers magnificence and loveliness;<br> + All graceful motions, and all graceful forms.<br> + The ripened nectar of delicious sounds,<br> + The social haunt—the lonely quiet hour;<br> + The Hopes embodying innocent and gay<br> + As those of Childhood, whose soft footstep past<br> + Not long before, not yet forgotten, by! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The letter, dearest, blotted with thy tears,<br> + In answer to a caution—fear—express'd<br> + By much too strongly—often gives my heart<br> + A secret pang—but of remorse for nought<br> + But paining thee—too tender to endure<br> + The thought that self-indulgence, or neglect,<br> + Causing increas'd disquietude and care,<br> + Might, by increased disquietude and care,<br> + Open the grave for him who gave thee birth!<br> + How often and how warmly did'st thou ask,<br> + With epithets of fondness, how I dar'd<br> + Imagine such a horror, and to one<br> + Present, who would have died, or borne extremes<br> + Of any hard endurance, not to give<br> + The slightest anguish to a parent's breast!<br> + Alas! the cruel rashness of reproof—<br> + The busy vigilance of human pride—<br> + Like a too eager partizan, may strike,<br> + To ward off danger from his chieftain's head,<br> + A fellow soldier zealous in the cause! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + As of this world, this visible, wide world,<br> + This earth, with all its forests, all its plants,<br> + All its deep mines, its rivers, and its seas,<br> + Yea! all that breathes, and moves, and clings to + life<br> + By any subtler impulse, which eludes<br> + Our blunted observation:—as of this,<br> + All that appears and all that is, so much<br> + Remains, in scorn of science, unexplor'd;<br> + So, in the not less wond'rous moral world,<br> + The innermost recesses of the mind,<br> + We see as little; save, Phoenician like,<br> + By petty trade and parley on its coasts,<br> + Talk by interpreters, impatient guess,<br> + Or careless resting in incertitude,<br> + At meanings in a tongue almost unknown;<br> + Or so corrupted by this intercourse,<br> + That all its native harmony is lost,<br> + Its irresistible persuasions o'er!<br> + The clearness and the sweetness of its tones,<br> + Its loftiness, simplicity and truth. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + All that we hear is coarse and limited,<br> + And yet we sail along and search no more,<br> + And look no farther, though the ear is pall'd<br> + With the vile din of tame monotony,<br> + The taste perverted, judgment led astray,<br> + By soul-annihilating idleness,<br> + By universal, strengthless poverty,<br> + Which leans upon its neighbour for support,<br> + And lifts the eye for sanction, or assent,<br> + To weakness still more helpless than its own! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Two thousand years the sanctuary's veil + </p> + <p> + Has now been rent asunder, shewing all + </p> + <p> + That, to the patient and unsandall'd foot, + </p> + <p> + Egress and regress freely are allowed + </p> + <p> + Through that most glorious temple, where abstract, + </p> + <p> + And long a stranger to the vulgar eye, + </p> + <p> + Thought held her silent rule, and mission'd forth + </p> + <p> + Her sealed and unquestion'd messengers. + </p> + <p> + Yet those who follow nature when the track + </p> + <p> + Is finer than a hair—those who can cleave + </p> + <p> + The subtile and combined elements + </p> + <p> + That form a drop of water—those can shrink + </p> + <p> + From the more holy alchemy enjoin'd, + </p> + <p> + Call'd for by that disgust the heart conceives + </p> + <p> + At the usurping empire of pretence; + </p> + <p> + At all those useless and disgraceful chains, + </p> + <p> + Which tie us down, and imp with aptest wings, + </p> + <p> + Falsehood and selfishness, who ought to creep + </p> + <p> + In their own reptile slime, and dart away + </p> + <p> + When eyes perceiv'd their presence. Oh! could those + </p> + <p> + Adventure in too perilous a path, + </p> + <p> + If without other guide than the bright stars, + </p> + <p> + The love of what is lofty and divine, + </p> + <p> + Or the desire of gaining for mankind, + </p> + <p> + Now fettered and held down to poison'd food, + </p> + <p> + Its unpolluted birth-right + </p> + <p class="4"> + —they dared on, + </p> + <p> + Plunging at once into untravelled realms, + </p> + <p> + And bringing, as the harvest of their toil, + </p> + <p> + Arms which will make each potent talisman, + </p> + <p> + Each charm, and spell, and dire enchantment sink + </p> + <p> + In endless infamy—without a hope + </p> + <p> + To trick their bloated, and their wither'd limbs, + </p> + <p> + In any Proteus vestment of disguise, + </p> + <p> + Again to awe and ruinate the world. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! my dear brother, little did I think<br> + These lines would be prophetic, yet to me<br> + They seem so; for I since have felt deep woe,<br> + And passed through seas of anguish to attain<br> + A view of mysteries wonderful and sad—<br> + Since they are rivetted, through every clime,<br> + With shame, and guilt, and wretchedness on all<br> + That bear what only is the <i>curse</i> of life,<br> + Whilst they remain, which have confronted time,<br> + Wearing the semblance, sporting with the names<br> + Of truth and valour, liberty and God,<br> + Successfully, through each recorded age,<br> + But yet <i>may</i> fall, and will, I trust and hope! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <center> + ————<br> + FINIS. + </center> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11194 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Vignettes in Verse + +Author: Matilda Betham + +Release Date: February 20, 2004 [EBook #11194] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIGNETTES IN VERSE *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h1> + Vignettes: + </h1> + <h2> + IN VERSE. + </h2> + <center> + <b>BY MATILDA BETHAM.</b> + </center> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + + <center> + 1818. + </center> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <center> + THESE VERSES ARE INSCRIBED<br> + TO<br> + LADY BETHAM,<br> + AS A TRIBUTE OF SINCERE RESPECT<br> + FOR HER<br> + AMIABLE QUALITIES. + </center> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <center> + ADVERTISEMENT. + </center> + <hr> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em; font-size: 9pt;"> + As far as the seventy-fourth page, these Poems have been + printed about two years; during which many things happened + likely to prevent their ever appearing. The time, however, is + now come, and I have to-day found the remainder, up to where + the lines end with + </p> + <p class="2" style="margin: 1em; font-size: 9pt;"> + "Its unpolluted birthright." + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em; font-size: 9pt;"> + On reading the whole over, they struck me with much surprise, + as they appear in a singular manner prophetic. I wrote them + with a general, and somewhat undefined view; and they now + take the aspect of speaking on what has since happened to + myself—a long seclusion, during which I was bereft of + the common means of study, having given rise to one that has + turned out far more important than I at first imagined, and + which I have continued since, to the exclusion of every other + pursuit. + </p> + <p style="margin: 1em; text-indent: 1em; font-size: 9pt;"> + <i>Stonkam, May 10th</i>, 1818. + </p> + <hr> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h1> + Vignettes. + </h1> + <h2> + I. + </h2> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + If writing Journals were my task, + </p> + <p class="2"> + From cottagers to kings— + </p> + <p> + A little book I'd only ask, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And fill it full of wings! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Each pair should represent a day: + </p> + <p class="2"> + On some the sun should rise, + </p> + <p> + While others bent their mournful way + </p> + <p class="2"> + Through cold and cloudy skies. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And here I would the light'ning bring + </p> + <p class="2"> + With threatening, forked glare; + </p> + <p> + And there the hallowed rainbow fling + </p> + <p class="2"> + Across the troubled air. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Some faint and wearily should glide + </p> + <p class="2"> + Their broken flight along— + </p> + <p> + While some high in the air should ride + </p> + <p class="2"> + Dilated, bold, and strong. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Some agitated and adrift, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Against their will should rove; + </p> + <p> + Some, steering forward, sure and swift, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Should scarcely seem to move— + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + While others, happiest of their kind! + </p> + <p class="2"> + Should in the ether soar, + </p> + <p> + As if no care would ever find, + </p> + <p class="2"> + No sorrow reach them more; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + When soon an arrow from below + </p> + <p class="2"> + Should wound them in their flight, + </p> + <p> + And many a crimson drop should flow + </p> + <p class="2"> + Before they fell in sight. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The rapid and abrupt descent, + </p> + <p class="2"> + The stain'd and ruffled plume, + </p> + <p> + Would seem as if they were not meant + </p> + <p class="2"> + Their ardour to resume. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But soon their beauty and their force + </p> + <p class="2"> + Sweet hours of rest renew; + </p> + <p> + Full soon their light, their varied course + </p> + <p class="2"> + Careering they pursue. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Alternately to rise and fall, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Or float along the day— + </p> + <p> + And this is Fortune—This is all + </p> + <p class="2"> + I would vouchsafe to say! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="2"> + Lucy, I think not of thy beauty, + </p> + <p class="4"> + I praise not each peculiar grace; + </p> + <p class="2"> + To see thee in the path of duty, + </p> + <p class="4"> + And with that happy, smiling face, + </p> + <p> + Conveys more pleasure to thy friend, + </p> + <p> + Than any outward charm could lend. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="2"> + I see thy graceful babes caress thee, + </p> + <p class="4"> + I mark thy wise, maternal care, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And sadly do the words impress me, + </p> + <p class="4"> + The magic words—that thou art fair. + </p> + <p> + I wonder that a tongue is found + </p> + <p> + To utter the unfeeling sound! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="2"> + For, art thou not above such praises? + </p> + <p class="4"> + And is this all that they can see? + </p> + <p class="2"> + Poor is the joy such flattery raises, + </p> + <p class="4"> + And, oh! how much unworthy thee! + </p> + <p> + Unworthy one whose heart can feel + </p> + <p> + The voice of truth, the warmth of zeal! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="2"> + O Lucy, thou art snatch'd from folly, + </p> + <p class="4"> + Become too tender to be vain, + </p> + <p class="2"> + The world, it makes me melancholy, + </p> + <p class="4"> + The world would lure thee back again! + </p> + <p> + And it would cost me many sighs, + </p> + <p> + To see it win so bright a prize! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p class="2"> + Though passing apprehensions move me, + </p> + <p class="4"> + I know thou hast a noble heart; + </p> + <p class="2"> + But, Lucy, I so truly love thee, + </p> + <p class="4"> + So much admire thee as thou art, + </p> + <p> + That, but the shadow of a fear, + </p> + <p> + Wakes in my breast a pang sincere. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + III. + </h2> + <h3> + THE ARTISAN. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + This twilight gloom. This lone retreat—<br> + This silence to my soul is sweet!<br> + Awhile escap'd from toil and strife,<br> + And all the lesser ills of life,<br> + Here only at the evening's close,<br> + My weary spirit finds repose;<br> + My sinking heart its freedom gains,<br> + Which poverty had bound in chains! + </p> + <p> + For here unheard the moments fly—<br> + And so secure, so happy I,<br> + That, often at the very last,<br> + I feel not that my dream is past.<br> + The little hour of bliss I spend,<br> + With thee, my chosen, only friend!<br> + That transient hour the heart sustains,<br> + Which poverty has bound in chains! + </p> + <p> + And for this dear, this precious hour,<br> + I would not, if I had the power,<br> + Exchange a worldling's life of ease,<br> + Whom all around him seek to please.<br> + I have no other friend beside,<br> + But here I safely may confide.<br> + Suspicion ne'er the bosom stains,<br> + Which poverty has bound in chains! + </p> + <p> + How oft I wonder at my lot!<br> + How oft are all but thee forgot!<br> + While in this half-despairing breast,<br> + Love builds a little, quiet nest,<br> + To hover o'er with joyous wing,<br> + Nay, sometimes soar aloft and sing!<br> + 'Tis this alone the heart sustains,<br> + Which poverty has bound in chains! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + IV. + </h2> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + "Come, Edmund, now the sun goes down, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Thy many wanderings tell! + </p> + <p> + Say, after all thine eyes have seen, + </p> + <p class="2"> + If home appears so well!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "So well! alas! ye do not know + </p> + <p class="2"> + How absence can endear! + </p> + <p> + In every hill, in every tree, + </p> + <p class="2"> + A thousand charms appear. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "The verdure of these English fields + </p> + <p class="2"> + Seems in my heart to glow— + </p> + <p> + There, as this shaded river winds, + </p> + <p class="2"> + I feel its waters flow. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "For, though I ventured forth so bold, + </p> + <p class="2"> + So long, so far did roam, + </p> + <p> + Affection, like a wayward child, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Still wept and murmur'd, <i>home!</i> + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "I persevered, yet still I strained + </p> + <p class="2"> + The pleader to my breast; + </p> + <p> + I hush'd her cries, but as I chid + </p> + <p class="2"> + More fondly still carest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And when I met with foreign dames + </p> + <p class="2"> + Of grace and beauty rare— + </p> + <p> + I fancied one dear village girl + </p> + <p class="2"> + Like them: but oh! how fair! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "My early playmate! oft I humm'd + </p> + <p class="2"> + The lays she lisping sung! + </p> + <p> + And sigh'd when looking on the arm, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Where she at parting hung. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "Then, joy! within my native vale + </p> + <p class="2"> + To find my Ellen free! + </p> + <p> + To fancy others pleas'd her not, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Because she thought on me! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "So closely round a glowing heart + </p> + <p class="2"> + Did never flowers entwine! + </p> + <p> + Oh! ne'er was mortal spirit lull'd + </p> + <p class="2"> + With visions sweet as mine!" + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + V. + </h2> + <h3> + VALENTINE + </h3> + <h4> + <i>FROM A YOUNG LADY TO HER MOTHER.</i> + </h4> + <center> + 1811. + </center> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <h4> + It is a custom, in some parts of Norfolk and Suffolk, to send + little presents with verses on Valentine's Day, to relatives + and friends. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Hope has her emblem, so has Love, + </p> + <p class="2"> + But I have vainly sought + </p> + <p> + For one, that might entirely prove + </p> + <p class="2"> + The picture of my thought. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + If violets, when fresh with dew, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Could amaranthine be, + </p> + <p> + Their soothing, deep, and glowing hue + </p> + <p class="2"> + Would justly speak for me. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Or to some plant with tendrils fine, + </p> + <p class="2"> + With blossoms sweet and gay, + </p> + <p> + This office I would now assign; + </p> + <p class="2"> + But flowers will all decay! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + A bird would suit my purpose more, + </p> + <p class="2"> + With filial heart endued; + </p> + <p> + But, ere their little life is o'er, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Birds lose their gratitude! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + No emblem of the love I feel + </p> + <p class="2"> + Appears within my view; + </p> + <p> + Less ardent, or less pure the zeal, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Less tender, or less true! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + All I can do is to avow, + </p> + <p class="2"> + My services are thine; + </p> + <p> + And that my spirit still shall bow, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Before my Valentine. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + VI. + </h2> + <h3> + THE LOVER'S APOLOGY. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + I look'd into her eyes, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And saw something divine, + </p> + <p> + For there, like summer lightning, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Swift coruscations shine. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Still flashing, and still changing, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Attemper'd soft and bright, + </p> + <p> + Through each expression ranging, + </p> + <p class="2"> + From pity to delight. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + From high or zealous feeling, + </p> + <p class="2"> + From arch, excursive grace, + </p> + <p> + From all with which a lovely mind + </p> + <p class="2"> + Endows the human face. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Perhaps a new and careless eye + </p> + <p class="2"> + May not those beauties see, + </p> + <p> + And wonder to behold the power + </p> + <p class="2"> + Belinda has with me. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The spell which holds this captive soul + </p> + <p class="2"> + She never would possess, + </p> + <p> + Were not her varying features rul'd + </p> + <p class="2"> + By sparkling playfulness, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But when with aimless, trackless skill + </p> + <p class="2"> + Is twin'd a mazy chain, + </p> + <p> + In the warm foldings of a heart, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Perforce it must remain. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + VII. + </h2> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Come, Magdalen, and bind my hair, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And put me on my sad array; + </p> + <p> + I to my father's house repair, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And hear his final doom to-day. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But wrap me in that cypress veil; + </p> + <p class="2"> + At first his eye I would not brave, + </p> + <p> + 'Till he shall bid the mourner hail, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And knows I come from Edwin's grave. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + I, late his boast, his heir, his pride, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Must like a guilty vassal kneel; + </p> + <p> + I, who was gallant Edwin's bride, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Must to my widow'd state appeal! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Closely within my heart must keep + </p> + <p class="2"> + His praise for whom that heart is riv'n, + </p> + <p> + And let each fond resentment sleep, + </p> + <p class="2"> + For I must die or be forgiven. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + VIII. + </h2> + <h4> + <i>The Spanish Lady's Farewell</i>, 1809. + </h4> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Manuel, I do not shed a tear, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Our parting to delay! + </p> + <p> + I dare not listen to my fear! + </p> + <p class="2"> + I dare not bid thee stay! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The heart may shrink, the spirit fail, + </p> + <p class="2"> + But Spaniards must be free; + </p> + <p> + And pride and duty shall prevail + </p> + <p class="2"> + O'er all my love for thee! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Then go! and round that gallant head, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Like banners in the air, + </p> + <p> + Shall float full many a daring hope, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And many a tender prayer! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Should freedom perish—at thy death, + </p> + <p class="2"> + 'T'were folly to repine— + </p> + <p> + And I should every feeling lose, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Except the wish for mine! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But if the destiny of Spain, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Be once again to rise, + </p> + <p> + Oh! grant me heaven, to read the tale, + </p> + <p class="2"> + In Manuel's joyful eyes! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + IX. + </h2> + <h3> + SONNET. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="2"> + I am unskill'd in speech: my tongue is slow + </p> + <p> + The graceful courtesies of life to pay; + </p> + <p> + To deck kind meanings up in trim array, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Keeping the mind's soft tone: words such as flow + </p> + <p class="2"> + From Complaisance, when she alone inspires! + </p> + <p class="2"> + And Caution, with a care that never tires, + </p> + <p> + Marshals each tribe of thoughts in such a way + </p> + <p class="2"> + That all are ready for their needful task, + </p> + <p class="2"> + The moment the occasion comes to ask, + </p> + <p> + All prompt to hear, to answer and obey; + </p> + <p> + When mine, undisciplin'd, their cause betray, + </p> + <p class="2"> + By coward falterings, or rebellious zeal!— + </p> + <p> + And Art, though subtle, though sublime thy sway, + </p> + <p class="2"> + I doubt if thou canst rule us, when we feel! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + X. + </h2> + <h3> + ALL' AMICA. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + And didst thou think that worldly art<br> + Would mould anew this shrinking heart?<br> + No! as a bird, by storms opprest,<br> + Is sheltered in its silent nest,<br> + I nurse and soothe it in the strife,<br> + Screen from the bleakest airs of life,<br> + And bring it all that once you knew,<br> + As kind, as timid, and as true! + </p> + <p> + But how could I so foolish be,<br> + As not to feel a doubt of thee?—<br> + This joy to find me still the same<br> + Takes from my lip the power to blame;<br> + Else, but forgive me, else I find<br> + A mist has stolen o'er thy mind,<br> + And veil'd my prospect; dimm'd that light<br> + Which once was warm, and clear, and bright. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XI. + </h2> + <h3> + TO THE SAME. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Go forth, my voice, through the wild air, + </p> + <p class="2"> + In the lone stillness of the night, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Beneath the cold moon's pale blue light; + </p> + <p> + Seek Eugenia, and declare, + </p> + <p> + As warmth and promise lurk below + </p> + <p> + A waste of lifeless, drifted snow; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + So, while my lips inertly move, + </p> + <p class="2"> + While many heavy fetters bind, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And press upon my languid mind, + </p> + <p> + Oh! tell her not to doubt my love! + </p> + <p> + Affection still her hold shall keep, + </p> + <p> + Although her weary servants sleep. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Friendship to me is like a flower, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Yielding a balm for human woe, + </p> + <p class="2"> + I less than ever could forego; + </p> + <p> + More prized, more needed every hour! + </p> + <p> + Perchance it dies for want of care, + </p> + <p> + But as it withers, I despair! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XII. + </h2> + <h3> + <i>To the late Lady Rouse Boughton</i>. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + 'Tis said, that jealous of a name + </p> + <p class="2"> + We all would praise confine, + </p> + <p> + And choke the leading path to fame + </p> + <p class="2"> + In our peculiar line. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + But vainly should detraction preach + </p> + <p class="2"> + If once I made it known, + </p> + <p> + The art of pleasing thou would'st teach + </p> + <p class="2"> + Acknowledg'd for thy own. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XIII. + </h2> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Yes! I can suffer, sink with pain,<br> + With anguish I can ill sustain;<br> + Till not a hope has strength to spring,<br> + Till scarce a prayer can lift its wing;<br> + Yet in my inmost heart there lies<br> + A living fount that will arise,<br> + And, of itself, diffuse a balm,<br> + A healing and refreshing calm,<br> + A pure delight, a cooling glow,<br> + Which Hate and Meanness cannot know! + </p> + <p> + Yes! I can faint, and I can fear,<br> + The power of petty creatures here,<br> + Who trick dark deeds in gay disguise,<br> + And weave their web of brooded lies,<br> + With so few threads made smooth and fair,<br> + All seems plain sense and reason there;<br> + And yet I would not learn their art,<br> + Nor have their paltry spells by heart,<br> + Their rankling blood within my veins,<br> + For all the treasure earth contains! + </p> + <p> + Oft, panic-struck, I sink, dismay'd,<br> + Call, with expiring faith, for aid;<br> + When all my efforts useless seem,<br> + Emptied of force as in a dream,<br> + My courage knows to persevere,<br> + Entwin'd, o'ergrown, o'ertowered by fear!<br> + As he who summoned in the night,<br> + At sudden wreck, in wild affright,<br> + Once throws his arms around a mast,<br> + Continues still to hold it fast,<br> + When sight and strength and aim are flown,<br> + When cold, benumb'd, and senseless grown,<br> + My soul, by hurrying tempests driven,<br> + Though blinded from the light of Heaven,<br> + Clinging, all hope, all comfort o'er,<br> + Must yet awaken on the shore! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XIV. + </h2> + <h3> + TO MR. AND MRS. EVERARD, + </h3> + <h4> + <i>On their only Son's being in the Navy</i>, 1811. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Talent and beauty, and the heart's warm glow,<br> + Gilding with Heavenly light his path below,<br> + Few with such rare felicity have won,<br> + In that rich prize, a dear and only son;<br> + And fewer but those faculties would doom<br> + To the soft prison of a pamper'd home;<br> + Check his bold wishes when they soar'd on high,<br> + And see well-pleas'd each early vision die;<br> + But ye, enweaving, as to me appears,<br> + With his bright hopes, those of maturer years,<br> + Hallowing the web, with all that parents feel,<br> + The saintly trust in Heav'n, the patriot's zeal,<br> + The aching doubts, that still tenacious wind<br> + Around the lofty and the tender mind;<br> + Ye, with a more than Roman virtue, yield,<br> + To the proud strife of Albion's liquid field,<br> + This darling; and, in whispers, bid him wear<br> + The finest wreath that buds and blossoms there;<br> + And I could almost say I heard a strain<br> + Pronounce—the sacrifice should not be vain! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XV. + </h2> + <h3> + TO THE HON. LADY J——, + </h3> + <h4> + <i>With the Picture of her Grand-daughter, the present Lady + Petre.</i> + </h4> + <center> + 1813. + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Behold the semblance of thy flower! + </p> + <p class="2"> + I could not fill its leaves with dew, + </p> + <p> + Shew its tints varying with the hour, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Its motion as the zephyrs blew. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And beauty too were more complete, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Appearing on the native stem, + </p> + <p> + In midst of buds and blossoms sweet, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And catching graces, charms from them. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Or blooming under eyes like thine, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Whose fond, soft gaze, whose tender tear, + </p> + <p> + Must also, losing power divine, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Awake no answering sweetness here. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + For much of loveliness must sleep, + </p> + <p class="2"> + E'en when inspir'd and led by truth; + </p> + <p> + The faithful pencil aims to keep + </p> + <p class="2"> + Mildness and innocence and youth. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XVI. + </h2> + <h3> + To MRS. A. + </h3> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + An Hour was before me, no creature more bright,<br> + More airy, more joyous, e'er sprang on my sight.<br> + To catch and to fetter I instantly tried,<br> + And "thou art my slave, pretty vagrant," I cried. + </p> + <p> + I had hold, and securely I thought, of its wing,<br> + O! how I shall glory, so lovely a thing<br> + To place by the cradle of friendship, and see,<br> + With the aid of my captive, if I can be free. + </p> + <p> + Oh! while she is with me, some means may be found<br> + To temper the air and to hallow the ground—<br> + To make those entangling bind-weeds decay,<br> + Drive Suspicion, who rear'd them, for ever away,<br> + And leave all around, kind, and healthful, and gay! + </p> + <p> + When this can be compass'd, I'll build me a bower,<br> + And twine in the trellice each sweet-scented + flower—<br> + Rare, delicate plants, whose large, fresh leaves shall + fling<br> + Green shadows, where birds in the stillness may sing. + </p> + <p> + A place of repose, when the spirit is faint,<br> + And the heart wants to utter a passing complaint:<br> + Of safety; for pure and serene be the air,<br> + And nothing unkind or unholy be there! + </p> + <p> + In this sacred retreat I my cares would confide,<br> + And there my half-forming opinions should hide;<br> + If true, gather strength for the brightness of + day—<br> + If false, in the shade, unreprov'd, die away! + </p> + <p> + How fondly I nourish'd these hopes, but in vain!<br> + The calm and the stillness I could not retain;<br> + My Hour fled away, every wish unfulfill'd,<br> + And warm'd not the Friendship Suspicion had chill'd! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XVII. + </h2> + <h3> + LINES + </h3> + <h3> + <i>Sent to a Brother on his leaving England</i>. + </h3> + <h3> + May 2, 1816. + </h3> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <h3> + FANCIFUL BOUQUET. + </h3> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + <i>Hopes</i> all glowing, <i>Wishes</i> rare, + </p> + <p class="2"> + <i>Blessings</i> mixed with many a <i>Prayer</i>, + </p> + <p> + Flowers as yet beyond compare, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Though flourishing in northern air. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + <i>Farewells</i> twined with tender <i>Fears</i>, + </p> + <p class="2"> + <i>Golden day-dreams</i>, gemm'd with tears, + </p> + <p> + <i>Affections</i> nurtur'd many years, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Before this perfect bloom appears. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + <i>Thoughts</i> of fondness and of pride, + </p> + <p class="2"> + <i>Love-vanities</i> we need not hide; + </p> + <p> + <i>Heart-blossoms</i>, in its crimson dyed, + </p> + <p class="2"> + For you, are here together tied. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And yet they all appear too poor, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Though goodness can ensure no more; + </p> + <p> + Though monarchs, whom the world adore, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Would purchase such with all their store. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And while this charmed gift we send, + </p> + <p class="2"> + We know where'er your footsteps bend, + </p> + <p> + The looks and tones that win the friend, + </p> + <p class="2"> + That kindness, nature, truth, attend, + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Are yours, and must be with you still, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Angelic guards, go where they will, + </p> + <p> + To ward off much surrounding ill, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And happiest destinies fulfil. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XVIII. + </h2> + <h4> + <i>Written jointly with a particular Friend, after a + conversation similar to the subject, with the Damon of the + Story</i>. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Believing love was all a bubble, + </p> + <p> + And wooing but a needless trouble, + </p> + <p> + Damon grew fond of posied rings, + </p> + <p> + And many such romantic things; + </p> + <p> + But whether it were Fortune's spite, + </p> + <p> + That study wound his brain too tight, + </p> + <p> + Or that his fancy play'd him tricks, + </p> + <p> + He could not on the lady fix. + </p> + <p class="4"> + He look'd around, + </p> + <p class="4"> + And often found, + </p> + <p> + A damsel passing fair; + </p> + <p class="4"> + "<i>She's good enough,</i>" he then would cry, + </p> + <p class="4"> + And rub his hands, and wink his eye, + </p> + <p> + "<i>I'll be enamour'd there!</i>" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + He thus resolved; but had not power + </p> + <p> + To hold the humour "<i>half an hour</i>"— + </p> + <p> + And critics, vers'd in Cupid's laws, + </p> + <p> + Pretended they had found a clause, + </p> + <p class="4"> + In an old volume on the shelf;— + </p> + <p> + Which said, if arrows chanc'd to fly, + </p> + <p> + When no bright nymph was passing by, + </p> + <p> + And lighted on a vacant breast; + </p> + <p> + The swain, Narcissus-like possest, + </p> + <p class="4"> + Strait doated on himself! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + If so, his anxious friends declar'd<br> + All future trouble might be spar'd:<br> + A heart thus pierc'd would never rove,<br> + Nor meanly seek a second love;<br> + No distance e'er could give him pain—<br> + No rivalry torment his brain.<br> + Self-love will bear a many knocks,<br> + A thousand mortifying shocks;<br> + One moment languish in despair,<br> + The next alert and debonair. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Poor Damon bit his nails and sigh'd,<br> + But still he was not satisfied;<br> + He could not rest, nor be content,<br> + Until to Cupid's court he went.<br> + Of rules establish'd in the place,<br> + Or, how to enter with a grace,<br> + He own'd he neither knew nor car'd,<br> + But thought <i>such nonsense better spar'd</i>,<br> + And went undaunted and alone<br> + To place himself before the throne.<br> + He kiss'd no hand, he bent no knee,<br> + Nor measur'd steps of one, two, three,<br> + But made a careless, slouching bow,<br> + And said, "Your highness will allow,<br> + That I am personable, tall,<br> + A rather handsome face withal,<br> + And fit to serve as volunteer,<br> + At least as any present here!<br> + Purblind, and deaf, and long and short,<br> + Without distinction here resort;<br> + Whilst I, neglected and forgot,<br> + Sate daily watching in my cot;<br> + And scarcely stirr'd, for fear there might,<br> + Arrive that morning or that night<br> + A captaincy, or some commission,<br> + For I confess I have ambition,<br> + And think if none had done me wrong<br> + I had not been o'erlook'd so long.<br> + To come then, Sir, I thought my duty,<br> + Oh! make me sensible to beauty!<br> + The ice about my bosom melt!<br> + Infuse a warmth it never felt!<br> + I come uncall'd! excuse my boldness!<br> + In truth I could not bear the coldness!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Half piqued to see him thus intrude, + </p> + <p> + And question in a way so rude; + </p> + <p> + Half tickled at the strange address, + </p> + <p> + Cupid said gravely, "We confess + </p> + <p class="4"> + There may be reason in your plea; + </p> + <p> + But still we very much admire + </p> + <p> + Your entering in such strange attire! + </p> + <p class="4"> + We cannot such omissions see, + </p> + <p> + And countenance—It should appear, + </p> + <p> + You know not we are sovereign here! + </p> + <p> + The soldiers of our chosen band + </p> + <p> + Approach not till we give command. + </p> + <p> + We every look and action sway, + </p> + <p> + And they with prompt delight obey. + </p> + <p> + For height, and size, and such like things, + </p> + <p> + We care far less than other kings; + </p> + <p> + But station, learning, no pretence, + </p> + <p> + Can make us with our power dispense. + </p> + <p> + The warrior must not here look big, + </p> + <p> + The lawyer doffs his forked wig, + </p> + <p> + The portly merchant rich and free, + </p> + <p> + Forgets his pride and bends the knee; + </p> + <p> + The doctor gives his terrors scope, + </p> + <p> + And, like a patient, whines for hope; + </p> + <p> + In short the wise have childish fits, + </p> + <p> + And fools and madmen find their wits. + </p> + <p> + "Then go—this silly pride subdue, + </p> + <p> + And thou shall be our servant too! + </p> + <p> + Acquire the courtly way of speech, + </p> + <p> + Not, 'do you hear?' but, 'I beseech.' + </p> + <p> + And let a suitor's voice and air, + </p> + <p> + Thy grievances and zeal declare, + </p> + <p> + We never scorn a humble prayer!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Expecting then a heart submiss, + </p> + <p> + He held him forth his hand to kiss; + </p> + <p> + For petrified the while he spoke, + </p> + <p> + With troubled wonder in his look + </p> + <p> + Poor Damon stood; aghast, suspended, + </p> + <p> + But gain'd his senses as he ended; + </p> + <p> + Abruptly turning on his toe, + </p> + <p> + "I thank you, Master Cupid, no! + </p> + <p> + I am a freeman and a brave, + </p> + <p> + And will not stoop to be a slave. + </p> + <p> + Your rules will never do for me, + </p> + <p> + I'd rather learn the rule of three— + </p> + <p> + "And since I find it is the plan, + </p> + <p> + To make me an automaton, + </p> + <p> + I'll case my heart in triple mail, + </p> + <p class="4"> + And fence it so completely round, + </p> + <p> + That all this vaunted skill shall fail, + </p> + <p class="4"> + Those blunted arrows back rebound; + </p> + <p> + For know, usurper! from this hour, + </p> + <p> + I scorn thy laws, abjure thy power! + </p> + <p> + From this dear moment I despise + </p> + <p> + The whole artillery of eyes; + </p> + <p> + Reason alone shall be my guide, + </p> + <p> + And Reason's voice shall win my bride. + </p> + <p> + Some bonny lass shall say I can + </p> + <p> + Love you as well as any man; + </p> + <p> + I will the self-same troth accord, + </p> + <p> + Most gladly take her at her word; + </p> + <p> + And we may just as happy prove + </p> + <p> + Without the fooleries of love. + </p> + <p> + She must not ask so much attention, + </p> + <p> + As many ladies I could mention; + </p> + <p> + But when I do not want to sway, + </p> + <p> + I'll always let her have her way; + </p> + <p> + And study to oblige her too, + </p> + <p> + When I have nothing else to do; + </p> + <p> + And am not tired, or wish to rest, + </p> + <p> + Or like some other plan the best, + </p> + <p> + For, more than this would be a task, + </p> + <p> + None but thy votaries would ask. + </p> + <p> + She must have riches, beauty, grace, + </p> + <p> + And modest sweetness in her face." + </p> + <p> + Just then he saw a scornful sneer + </p> + <p> + Upon Dan Cupid's face appear; + </p> + <p> + While courtiers whispered with a grin, + </p> + <p> + "Poor fellow, he'll be taken in! + </p> + <p> + The finest birds are always shy, + </p> + <p> + The rarest at a distance fly, + </p> + <p> + And Reason cannot soar so high." + </p> + <p> + "Aye, you may laugh, to prove her mind + </p> + <p> + At once exalted and refined, + </p> + <p> + I'll watch her skill in music's art; + </p> + <p> + By ear and fingers judge the heart, + </p> + <p> + And then it will not be believ'd + </p> + <p> + I can be easily deceiv'd. + </p> + <p> + I only grieve that in my prime + </p> + <p> + I've wasted so much precious time, + </p> + <p> + For long ere this I might have married, + </p> + <p> + Had I not so unwisely tarried, + </p> + <p> + And vex'd my brains in looking round + </p> + <p> + For that which never could be found." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + "And would'st thou wish," the monarch cried, + </p> + <p> + "To set our gentle laws aside? + </p> + <p> + Thou hast no friend in Common Sense, + </p> + <p> + In such affairs she thinks it wisest, + </p> + <p> + To stand aside without pretence, + </p> + <p> + And sanction laws which thou despisest. + </p> + <p> + But try the plan, it merits praise, + </p> + <p> + Success may crown its winning ways! + </p> + <p> + The lady must be blind indeed, + </p> + <p class="4"> + With whom such offers of neglect, + </p> + <p class="4"> + And cool, habitual disrespect + </p> + <p> + Would not succeed. + </p> + <p> + But come no longer here to flout us, + </p> + <p> + Since, truly, thou canst do without us; + </p> + <p> + For dignity is lost in sport, + </p> + <p> + An outlaw for contempt of court; + </p> + <p> + We banish thee with all thy pride + </p> + <p> + Until thy heart be rarified." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XIX. + </h2> + <h3> + ABSENCE. + </h3> + <h4> + <i>Written in Derbyshire, by the same Friend.</i> + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + When recollection brings to mind, + </p> + <p> + The kindred ties I've left behind, + </p> + <p> + The converse gentle and refin'd, + </p> + <p class="8"> + I grieve! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Deep the regret, the pain extreme, + </p> + <p> + And yet I fondly love the dream, + </p> + <p> + And find the sad, delightful theme + </p> + <p class="8"> + Relieve. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + It bids all present forms decay, + </p> + <p> + All present feelings fade away; + </p> + <p> + Impeding distance, long delay + </p> + <p class="8"> + Are o'er! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Fancy, so active in the gloom, + </p> + <p> + Till some one enters in the room, + </p> + <p> + Can all the images of home + </p> + <p class="8"> + Restore. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Alas! when weeks, and months are past, + </p> + <p> + Shall I that home behold at last, + </p> + <p> + Which even the dark clouds overcast + </p> + <p class="8"> + Endear? + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Lest one of all the cares that dart + </p> + <p> + Like arrows round each thoughtful heart, + </p> + <p> + May pierce ere then some vital part + </p> + <p class="8"> + I fear! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XX. + </h2> + <h4> + <i>On reading in Savary's Travels the death of Ali Bey, who, + it is there represented, in the midst of enlightened and + benevolent efforts to benefit his country, was repeatedly + betrayed, and at length taken captive by his brother-in-law, + whom he had advanced and loved, and who, till the very last, + he could not believe to be his enemy</i>. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + O generous Ali! while thy fate inspires<br> + Indignant pity, with a patriot's fires,<br> + I mourn for Egypt, and with equal zeal,<br> + For her, for thee, and ruin'd science feel:<br> + Admire the confidence my heart deplores<br> + And blame the weakness it almost adores! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Pride of thy race! before my mental eyes,<br> + I see thee, like another Alfred rise;<br> + See honour splendent on thy ample brow,<br> + While Thought and Genius fill the orbs below;<br> + Those beaming orbs! where lofty sweetness shone,<br> + And where the soul sate smiling on her throne:<br> + Depriv'd too soon of that benignant ray,<br> + Which impious Dahab shudder'd to survey.<br> + Pale, bleeding, conquer'd, dying, and forlorn,<br> + I see thee view the wretch with silent scorn!<br> + See thy cheek flush at the false tears he shed,<br> + And proudly turn away the languid head,<br> + With mingled anger, sorrow, and disdain,<br> + That he should dare to tempt thy love again! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! yet within the tent I see thee lie,<br> + The victor, like a coward, crouching by;<br> + O'erawed, rebuked, and humbled in the hour,<br> + The plenitude of his success and power!<br> + A pain the guilty never make us know,<br> + In all the miseries they cause below;<br> + A pain which they in every triumph feel,<br> + A humbling sense no glory yet could heal,<br> + The want of conscious worth, the poignant thought,<br> + That inwardly sets all pretence at naught!<br> + That curbs all self-applause—tears all + disguise—<br> + When the subdued, the ruin'd can <i>despise</i>;<br> + And, in the arms of death, can yet be free,<br> + To say, "Let me be any thing but thee!" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Ambition! while thy zeal the good inflame,<br> + And make a noble nature sigh for fame,<br> + We deem thee of a more than royal line,<br> + For self-devotion tendeth to divine!<br> + But when, like Dahab's demon, selfish, vain,<br> + It loosens Gratitude's mysterious chain;<br> + When broken Faith aloud, but vainly calls;<br> + When the warm friend, the king, the brother falls;<br> + Instead of honours, and a conqueror's fame,<br> + Hatred shall haunt, and curses brand thy name! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XXI. + </h2> + <h3> + LINES. + </h3> + <h4> + <i>Written for a Young Gentleman to speak at the Audit at St. + Saviour's School, Southwark, after the Battle of + Trafalgar</i>. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + While others, from the Greek and Roman page,<br> + Declare the prudent councils of the sage;<br> + Or, in recital of achievements bold,<br> + Retrace the motives and the deeds of old,<br> + I, in the accents of my native clime,<br> + And, at the moment, shaking hands with Time,<br> + I, whom our recent loss forbids to roam,<br> + Shall plant my mourning standard nearer home!<br> + At the sad shrine where gallant Nelson sleeps,<br> + Where Britain bends her lofty head and weeps,<br> + Deeply lamenting that she cannot prove,<br> + The fond excess of dearly purchas'd love. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Is there a callous mind, that does not feel<br> + An anxious interest in the public weal!<br> + Is there a heart that pities not the brave!<br> + To whom luxuriant laurels hide the grave!<br> + A grief unwing'd, yet unconsol'd by pride!<br> + A tongue that said not, when our hero died,<br> + While bitter tears that glorious loss deplore,<br> + The man who <i>lov'd his country</i> is no more?<br> + No! in each eye the glowing trophies fade;<br> + Each sign of triumph seems a vain parade!<br> + The aching sigh to conquering shouts succeeds,<br> + And Victory assumes a widow's weeds. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Some wily chieftain, building up a name,<br> + May fight for immortality and fame;<br> + Time may embalm his valour, or his art,<br> + And History shew the coldness of a heart,<br> + Which, emulous of grandeur and a throne,<br> + Acts for itself, "<i>its own low self</i>" alone;<br> + And, in the inner chambers of the mind,<br> + Broods over plans to subjugate mankind:<br> + There fondly bends each nation to his sway,<br> + That he may rule, and all beside obey.<br> + Haply the mighty fabric may arise,<br> + Vast in its bulk, and aiming at the skies,<br> + Till Wisdom, viewing the enormous pile,<br> + Admires the madness of a man the while,<br> + Who labours with incessant toil and skill;<br> + To feed Ambition, discontented still;<br> + And for that serpent in his bosom curl'd,<br> + Erects a temple fit to hold the world! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Though such a chief a deathless wreath may crown,<br> + Though he may win a sterile, hard renown,<br> + His name shall ne'er a sudden glow impart,<br> + Nor make the tear of admiration start;<br> + Ne'er in his plaudits shall warm blessings join!<br> + None cry, "The triumph of that man is mine!"<br> + But, when his greatness crumbles in the dust,<br> + Coldly exclaim, "Lo! Providence is just!"<br> + Far different is the patriot warrior's lot!<br> + He may in Time's long journey be forgot;<br> + Though many generations shall decay,<br> + Ere England's love to Nelson wears away!<br> + But if at length successive years should cast<br> + The mist of distance upon ages past,<br> + And fathers what themselves have witness'd tell,<br> + Of those who yet shall serve their country + well—<br> + Memory and Knowledge shall dispel the gloom,<br> + And shed strong light on every honour'd tomb—<br> + To lift the spirit when our courage fail,<br> + When worth departed, future ages hail! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + And ye, compeers, who in the classic page,<br> + Do homage to the hero and the sage,<br> + Whose hearts at base and cruel actions bleed,<br> + But rise triumphant at a noble deed—<br> + Forbear from Duty's anxious side to stray,<br> + But follow bravely when she leads the way;<br> + Follow with head and heart, as Nelson fought;<br> + Be vigilant like him in act and thought;<br> + Then, as the lark mounts upwards in the skies,<br> + Early in life's fair morning will you rise,<br> + Expand bold pinions nearest to the sun,<br> + And claim the meed of glory fairly won. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XXII. + </h2> + <h3> + TO THE HETMAN, PLATOFF. + </h3> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + O ancient warrior! as we hail thee, + </p> + <p class="2"> + And behold thy cordial smile, + </p> + <p> + We hope that greetings ne'er may fail thee, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Such as those of Britain's isle. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + They are, although so seeming rude, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Given only where we think them due; + </p> + <p> + Most courteous, e'en when they intrude, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Too vehement, but always true! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Applauses which no art can fashion, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Which speak the feelings and no more; + </p> + <p> + Which give respect the glow of passion, + </p> + <p class="2"> + When worth and valour we adore; + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Blest is the hero in receiving! + </p> + <p class="2"> + And pride may scoff at, or despise, + </p> + <p> + What if but once sincere believing, + </p> + <p class="2"> + Is grateful to the good and wise. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XXIII. + </h2> + <h4> + <i>On the Death of Master Frederic Thomson</i>. + </h4> + <center> + 1810. + </center> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + In the first dawn of youth I much admire<br> + The lively boy of ruddy countenance,<br> + Strong-built, and bold, and hardy, with black hair,<br> + And dark brown eye, contrasting its blue-white,<br> + Somewhat abruptly; save in the bright hour<br> + Of inward passion, or of sudden joy;<br> + When, as a monarch, gracious and renown'd,<br> + Amid a crowd of subjects, diverse all,<br> + Thrills with one deep, soft feeling every heart;<br> + Or, as the sun throws his pervading beams<br> + At once on bleak harsh mountains and the sky;<br> + The soul, by union of its light and heat,<br> + Clears and irradiates all, and gives to strength<br> + A mellow sweetness; hues late undefin'd<br> + Grow more intense, or, if discordant, lose<br> + Their coarseness, and become diaphanous.<br> + This I admire, but still methinks I look<br> + With a serener pleasure on the head<br> + Crested by flaxen curls; or where soft locks,<br> + Like to long coiling leaves that lose their edge,<br> + Shine silken on the cheek, and parting smooth<br> + Above a fair and modest countenance,<br> + Harmonize with its pure, its tender bloom.<br> + Still lovelier when with that infusion sweet<br> + Of saint or angel spirit, resident<br> + In the calm circle of a blue eye fring'd<br> + With sable lashes! I remember once<br> + A face like this, ere sickness took away<br> + Its freshness, in whose looks there also dwelt,<br> + If one may speak it of a thing so young,<br> + And not subdue our warm belief to say<br> + The prophecy of all these qualities,<br> + Refinement, gentleness, and mild resolve;<br> + Fitted to stem the evil of this world,<br> + And hold with patient intrepidity,<br> + The shield of calm resistance to its power.<br> + It seem'd as if no anger e'er could dwell<br> + Within his bosom; no blind prejudice<br> + Distract his judgment; and no folly call<br> + For a reproof: as if Affection were<br> + Too soon allied to Thought, and tempered so<br> + His morning, that the ministry of Time,<br> + The chast'ning trial of Remorse and Grief,<br> + And of stern Disappointment, all were spar'd. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XXIV. + </h2> + <h4> + <i>On the Death of Herbert Southey: addressed to his + Father</i>. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Knowing the nature of thy grief,<br> + Too deep, too recent for relief,<br> + Oh! why impatient must I press<br> + So early on a friend's distress!<br> + Why am I eager thus to prove,<br> + To him who feels excess of love,<br> + The tender liking we bestow<br> + On fair and guileless things below?<br> + On Love and Joy without pretence,<br> + On kind and playful Innocence!<br> + The pleas'd idea Memory kept,<br> + The partial glance which never slept,<br> + When hopes arose oft render'd vain,<br> + Of seeing Keswick yet again. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Never but once a child had won<br> + So much upon me as thy son;<br> + And, for each wild and winning art,<br> + That, nestling, fastens in the heart;<br> + For graces that light tendrils fling<br> + Around each nerve's tenacious string;<br> + Caprices beautiful, that strike<br> + The heart, and captive fancy, like<br> + Those of a tame, young bird at play,<br> + That carols near, then flits away,<br> + Will on a sudden upward soar,<br> + Then give its little wanderings o'er,<br> + For fondling, gentle, sweet repose,<br> + When tapering pinions softly close,<br> + Slight, warmth—pervaded quills are prest,<br> + And head shrunk closely to the breast:<br> + All sleeping but that lovely eye,<br> + Which speaks delight, and asks reply:<br> + Oh! with such graces never one<br> + Was so much gifted as thy son!<br> + In each variety of tone,<br> + Each wayward charm, he stood alone;<br> + And all too nicely pois'd to press,<br> + Or ruffle tranquil happiness. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + If thus a stranger thinks, who knew<br> + Him but an infant—if he grew<br> + With all the promise that appear'd<br> + So brightly then, still more endear'd—<br> + If, as the Honey with the Bee,<br> + Affection dwells with poesy:<br> + If that Affection is comprest,<br> + And hoarded in a Father's breast,<br> + Whose very soul doth blessings shed<br> + Upon a grateful darling's head;<br> + While every look is treasur'd there,<br> + Till Thought itself becomes a prayer,<br> + And Hopes hang on him full and gay.<br> + "As blossoms on a bough in May"[1]—<br> + Shall any venture to intrude<br> + On thee? Oh! not with footstep rude,<br> + But with a timorous zeal I come,<br> + Just hang this wreath upon his tomb—<br> + Record fond wishes sadly o'er,<br> + To see my little favourite more! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <p> + [Footnote 1: + </p> + <p class="2"> + As many hopes hang on his noble head + </p> + <p class="2"> + As blossoms on a bough in May; and sweet ones! + </p> + <p class="8"> + <i>Beaumont and Fletcher.</i>] + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XXV. + </h2> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Fear has to do with sacred things,<br> + And more than all from Pity springs.<br> + Two school-girls once—the time is past,<br> + But ever will the memory last—<br> + This moral to my fancy drew,<br> + In colours brilliant, deep, and true. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Mute, blooming, one all-wondering stands, + </p> + <p> + The elder kisses oft her hands, + </p> + <p> + Bends o'er with fainting, fond caress, + </p> + <p> + And languishes in strong distress. + </p> + <p> + Clings to her shoulder, were it meet, + </p> + <p> + Seems wishing to embrace her feet; + </p> + <p> + Like one impatient to implore, + </p> + <p> + Who dreads the time is nearly o'er, + </p> + <p> + To ask or to receive a boon, + </p> + <p> + Which must be known and granted soon. + </p> + <p> + A boon with life itself entwin'd, + </p> + <p class="2"> + One that her lips refus'd to name, + </p> + <p class="2"> + However oft the impulse came. + </p> + <p> + Such was the picture—but her mind + </p> + <p> + Forgetting self—could not arise, + </p> + <p> + To look in those unconscious eyes! + </p> + <p> + The zeal that prompted, were she free + </p> + <p> + To serve her friend on bended knee, + </p> + <p> + Shrunk from the orphan's gaze, just hurl'd, + </p> + <p> + Lonely and poor upon the world— + </p> + <p> + Unknowing yet her loss, endeared, + </p> + <p> + By its excess, and therefore fear'd! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Thus has it ever seem'd to me,<br> + That Pity made a Deity<br> + Of Mortal Suffering—that her ray<br> + Melted all blame, all scorn away!<br> + That when her arms the dying fold,<br> + When her pure hands the loathsome hold,<br> + Disgust and Dread, their power forego,<br> + The Aegis drops from Human Woe,<br> + Whose false and cruel glare alone<br> + Turned other living hearts to stone. + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + XXVI. + </h2> + <h3> + ELEGY ON EDWARD BETHAM, + </h3> + <h4> + <i>Lost in the Duchess of Gordon East Indiaman, off the Cape + of Good Hope</i>. + </h4> + <center> + ———— + </center> + <table summary="" align="center"> + <tr> + <td> + <p> + Lovely as are the wide and sudden calms<br> + Upon a lake, when all the waters rise,<br> + To smooth each undulation, and present<br> + A plain of molten silver—is the hope,<br> + Dear Edward, of thy safety—which now comes<br> + To fill, expand, and elevate my heart—<br> + String every nerve, and give to every vein,<br> + A warmer and a sweeter sense of life! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Welcome, oh! welcome, that most healing hope,<br> + Pouring abroad an efficacious ray<br> + Into the aching bosom!—Tidings sweet<br> + Those of such prompt return, with wisdom gain'd<br> + By suffering, but with all thy innocence,<br> + All thy accustomed gaiety of heart,<br> + And all thy deep, quick sensibilities!<br> + Those gems of virtue, which concentre still<br> + In narrow limits, stores of moral wealth<br> + Beyond all estimate—whose value known,<br> + The dealer sells his other merchandize;<br> + His ivory and curious workmanship,<br> + The silkworm's product and the cloth of gold,<br> + To purchase that imperishable store,<br> + More highly prized than all!—Possessing all<br> + The properties, most precious of the rest,<br> + In a superior measure and degree,<br> + Without alloy, sparkling with inward light!<br> + Unseen, untraced the process of his growth!—<br> + No aid from any human hand or care!—-<br> + No nourishment from any earthly dews!<br> + No ripening from our bright, material sun!<br> + But secretly supplied by Providence<br> + With some more pure, diviner aliment,<br> + And with more heavenly, searching radiance fill'd;<br> + For the superior comfort, higher bliss<br> + Of that in-drinking eye the soul of man! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Thus sang I, when fallacious hopes were rais'd<br> + Of his dear safety—whom, howe'er + belov'd—<br> + However strong in health, and firmly built<br> + Like a fine statue of the antique world,<br> + As if he might have reach'd a century<br> + Without decrepitude, we ne'er again—<br> + Nor we alone, no other human eye—<br> + Can e'er behold! Then had I painted him<br> + Returning, as he lately left our shores,<br> + With all the fairness and the bloom of youth—<br> + The light brown hair, and its soft yellow gleams,<br> + Brightened with silver; thickening into shade,<br> + Now with a dove-like, now a chesnut hue!<br> + The smile of Peace and Love and joyful Hope!<br> + And those blue eyes, through whose dark lash the + soul,<br> + Rejoicing, from its kind and happy home,<br> + Look'd forth with rapture, artless, and uncheck'd!<br> + Eyes, where Delight in careless luxury<br> + Lay nestling and indulging blissful thoughts;<br> + With every day-dream, for whose food the world<br> + Offers magnificence and loveliness;<br> + All graceful motions, and all graceful forms.<br> + The ripened nectar of delicious sounds,<br> + The social haunt—the lonely quiet hour;<br> + The Hopes embodying innocent and gay<br> + As those of Childhood, whose soft footstep past<br> + Not long before, not yet forgotten, by! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + The letter, dearest, blotted with thy tears,<br> + In answer to a caution—fear—express'd<br> + By much too strongly—often gives my heart<br> + A secret pang—but of remorse for nought<br> + But paining thee—too tender to endure<br> + The thought that self-indulgence, or neglect,<br> + Causing increas'd disquietude and care,<br> + Might, by increased disquietude and care,<br> + Open the grave for him who gave thee birth!<br> + How often and how warmly did'st thou ask,<br> + With epithets of fondness, how I dar'd<br> + Imagine such a horror, and to one<br> + Present, who would have died, or borne extremes<br> + Of any hard endurance, not to give<br> + The slightest anguish to a parent's breast!<br> + Alas! the cruel rashness of reproof—<br> + The busy vigilance of human pride—<br> + Like a too eager partizan, may strike,<br> + To ward off danger from his chieftain's head,<br> + A fellow soldier zealous in the cause! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + As of this world, this visible, wide world,<br> + This earth, with all its forests, all its plants,<br> + All its deep mines, its rivers, and its seas,<br> + Yea! all that breathes, and moves, and clings to + life<br> + By any subtler impulse, which eludes<br> + Our blunted observation:—as of this,<br> + All that appears and all that is, so much<br> + Remains, in scorn of science, unexplor'd;<br> + So, in the not less wond'rous moral world,<br> + The innermost recesses of the mind,<br> + We see as little; save, Phoenician like,<br> + By petty trade and parley on its coasts,<br> + Talk by interpreters, impatient guess,<br> + Or careless resting in incertitude,<br> + At meanings in a tongue almost unknown;<br> + Or so corrupted by this intercourse,<br> + That all its native harmony is lost,<br> + Its irresistible persuasions o'er!<br> + The clearness and the sweetness of its tones,<br> + Its loftiness, simplicity and truth. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + All that we hear is coarse and limited,<br> + And yet we sail along and search no more,<br> + And look no farther, though the ear is pall'd<br> + With the vile din of tame monotony,<br> + The taste perverted, judgment led astray,<br> + By soul-annihilating idleness,<br> + By universal, strengthless poverty,<br> + Which leans upon its neighbour for support,<br> + And lifts the eye for sanction, or assent,<br> + To weakness still more helpless than its own! + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Two thousand years the sanctuary's veil + </p> + <p> + Has now been rent asunder, shewing all + </p> + <p> + That, to the patient and unsandall'd foot, + </p> + <p> + Egress and regress freely are allowed + </p> + <p> + Through that most glorious temple, where abstract, + </p> + <p> + And long a stranger to the vulgar eye, + </p> + <p> + Thought held her silent rule, and mission'd forth + </p> + <p> + Her sealed and unquestion'd messengers. + </p> + <p> + Yet those who follow nature when the track + </p> + <p> + Is finer than a hair—those who can cleave + </p> + <p> + The subtile and combined elements + </p> + <p> + That form a drop of water—those can shrink + </p> + <p> + From the more holy alchemy enjoin'd, + </p> + <p> + Call'd for by that disgust the heart conceives + </p> + <p> + At the usurping empire of pretence; + </p> + <p> + At all those useless and disgraceful chains, + </p> + <p> + Which tie us down, and imp with aptest wings, + </p> + <p> + Falsehood and selfishness, who ought to creep + </p> + <p> + In their own reptile slime, and dart away + </p> + <p> + When eyes perceiv'd their presence. Oh! could those + </p> + <p> + Adventure in too perilous a path, + </p> + <p> + If without other guide than the bright stars, + </p> + <p> + The love of what is lofty and divine, + </p> + <p> + Or the desire of gaining for mankind, + </p> + <p> + Now fettered and held down to poison'd food, + </p> + <p> + Its unpolluted birth-right + </p> + <p class="4"> + —they dared on, + </p> + <p> + Plunging at once into untravelled realms, + </p> + <p> + And bringing, as the harvest of their toil, + </p> + <p> + Arms which will make each potent talisman, + </p> + <p> + Each charm, and spell, and dire enchantment sink + </p> + <p> + In endless infamy—without a hope + </p> + <p> + To trick their bloated, and their wither'd limbs, + </p> + <p> + In any Proteus vestment of disguise, + </p> + <p> + Again to awe and ruinate the world. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + Oh! my dear brother, little did I think<br> + These lines would be prophetic, yet to me<br> + They seem so; for I since have felt deep woe,<br> + And passed through seas of anguish to attain<br> + A view of mysteries wonderful and sad—<br> + Since they are rivetted, through every clime,<br> + With shame, and guilt, and wretchedness on all<br> + That bear what only is the <i>curse</i> of life,<br> + Whilst they remain, which have confronted time,<br> + Wearing the semblance, sporting with the names<br> + Of truth and valour, liberty and God,<br> + Successfully, through each recorded age,<br> + But yet <i>may</i> fall, and will, I trust and hope! + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <center> + ————<br> + FINIS. + </center> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vignettes in Verse, by Matilda Betham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIGNETTES IN VERSE *** + +***** This file should be named 11194-h.htm or 11194-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/1/9/11194/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Vignettes in Verse + +Author: Matilda Betham + +Release Date: February 20, 2004 [EBook #11194] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIGNETTES IN VERSE *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +Vignettes: + +IN VERSE. + + +BY MATILDA BETHAM. + + + +1818. + + + +THESE VERSES ARE INSCRIBED +TO +LADY BETHAM, +AS A TRIBUTE OF SINCERE RESPECT +FOR HER +AMIABLE QUALITIES. + + + +ADVERTISEMENT. + + * * * * * + +As far as the seventy-fourth page, these Poems have been printed about +two years; during which many things happened likely to prevent their +ever appearing. The time, however, is now come, and I have to-day found +the remainder, up to where the lines end with + + "Its unpolluted birthright." + +On reading the whole over, they struck me with much surprise, as they +appear in a singular manner prophetic. I wrote them with a general, and +somewhat undefined view; and they now take the aspect of speaking on +what has since happened to myself--a long seclusion, during which I was +bereft of the common means of study, having given rise to one that has +turned out far more important than I at first imagined, and which I have +continued since, to the exclusion of every other pursuit. + +_Stonkam, May 10th_, 1818. + + + + + +Vignettes. + + + +I. + + +If writing Journals were my task, + From cottagers to kings-- +A little book I'd only ask, + And fill it full of wings! + +Each pair should represent a day: + On some the sun should rise, +While others bent their mournful way + Through cold and cloudy skies. + +And here I would the light'ning bring + With threatening, forked glare; +And there the hallowed rainbow fling + Across the troubled air. + +Some faint and wearily should glide + Their broken flight along-- +While some high in the air should ride + Dilated, bold, and strong. + +Some agitated and adrift, + Against their will should rove; +Some, steering forward, sure and swift, + Should scarcely seem to move-- + +While others, happiest of their kind! + Should in the ether soar, +As if no care would ever find, + No sorrow reach them more; + +When soon an arrow from below + Should wound them in their flight, +And many a crimson drop should flow + Before they fell in sight. + +The rapid and abrupt descent, + The stain'd and ruffled plume, +Would seem as if they were not meant + Their ardour to resume. + +But soon their beauty and their force + Sweet hours of rest renew; +Full soon their light, their varied course + Careering they pursue. + +Alternately to rise and fall, + Or float along the day-- +And this is Fortune--This is all + I would vouchsafe to say! + + + + +II. + + + Lucy, I think not of thy beauty, + I praise not each peculiar grace; + To see thee in the path of duty, + And with that happy, smiling face, +Conveys more pleasure to thy friend, +Than any outward charm could lend. + + I see thy graceful babes caress thee, + I mark thy wise, maternal care, + And sadly do the words impress me, + The magic words--that thou art fair. +I wonder that a tongue is found +To utter the unfeeling sound! + + For, art thou not above such praises? + And is this all that they can see? + Poor is the joy such flattery raises, + And, oh! how much unworthy thee! +Unworthy one whose heart can feel +The voice of truth, the warmth of zeal! + + O Lucy, thou art snatch'd from folly, + Become too tender to be vain, + The world, it makes me melancholy, + The world would lure thee back again! +And it would cost me many sighs, +To see it win so bright a prize! + + Though passing apprehensions move me, + I know thou hast a noble heart; + But, Lucy, I so truly love thee, + So much admire thee as thou art, +That, but the shadow of a fear, +Wakes in my breast a pang sincere. + + + + +III. + +THE ARTISAN. + + +This twilight gloom. This lone retreat-- +This silence to my soul is sweet! +Awhile escap'd from toil and strife, +And all the lesser ills of life, +Here only at the evening's close, +My weary spirit finds repose; +My sinking heart its freedom gains, +Which poverty had bound in chains! + +For here unheard the moments fly-- +And so secure, so happy I, +That, often at the very last, +I feel not that my dream is past. +The little hour of bliss I spend, +With thee, my chosen, only friend! +That transient hour the heart sustains, +Which poverty has bound in chains! + +And for this dear, this precious hour, +I would not, if I had the power, +Exchange a worldling's life of ease, +Whom all around him seek to please. +I have no other friend beside, +But here I safely may confide. +Suspicion ne'er the bosom stains, +Which poverty has bound in chains! + +How oft I wonder at my lot! +How oft are all but thee forgot! +While in this half-despairing breast, +Love builds a little, quiet nest, +To hover o'er with joyous wing, +Nay, sometimes soar aloft and sing! +'Tis this alone the heart sustains, +Which poverty has bound in chains! + + + + +IV. + + +"Come, Edmund, now the sun goes down, + Thy many wanderings tell! +Say, after all thine eyes have seen, + If home appears so well!" + +"So well! alas! ye do not know + How absence can endear! +In every hill, in every tree, + A thousand charms appear. + +"The verdure of these English fields + Seems in my heart to glow-- +There, as this shaded river winds, + I feel its waters flow. + +"For, though I ventured forth so bold, + So long, so far did roam, +Affection, like a wayward child, + Still wept and murmur'd, _home!_ + +"I persevered, yet still I strained + The pleader to my breast; +I hush'd her cries, but as I chid + More fondly still carest. + +"And when I met with foreign dames + Of grace and beauty rare-- +I fancied one dear village girl + Like them: but oh! how fair! + +"My early playmate! oft I humm'd + The lays she lisping sung! +And sigh'd when looking on the arm, + Where she at parting hung. + +"Then, joy! within my native vale + To find my Ellen free! +To fancy others pleas'd her not, + Because she thought on me! + +"So closely round a glowing heart + Did never flowers entwine! +Oh! ne'er was mortal spirit lull'd + With visions sweet as mine!" + + + + +V. + +VALENTINE + +_FROM A YOUNG LADY TO HER MOTHER._ + +1811. + + -------- + +It is a custom, in some parts of Norfolk and Suffolk, to send little +presents with verses on Valentine's Day, to relatives and friends. + + -------- + +Hope has her emblem, so has Love, + But I have vainly sought +For one, that might entirely prove + The picture of my thought. + +If violets, when fresh with dew, + Could amaranthine be, +Their soothing, deep, and glowing hue + Would justly speak for me. + +Or to some plant with tendrils fine, + With blossoms sweet and gay, +This office I would now assign; + But flowers will all decay! + +A bird would suit my purpose more, + With filial heart endued; +But, ere their little life is o'er, + Birds lose their gratitude! + +No emblem of the love I feel + Appears within my view; +Less ardent, or less pure the zeal, + Less tender, or less true! + +All I can do is to avow, + My services are thine; +And that my spirit still shall bow, + Before my Valentine. + + + + +VI. + +THE LOVER'S APOLOGY. + + +I look'd into her eyes, + And saw something divine, +For there, like summer lightning, + Swift coruscations shine. + +Still flashing, and still changing, + Attemper'd soft and bright, +Through each expression ranging, + From pity to delight. + +From high or zealous feeling, + From arch, excursive grace, +From all with which a lovely mind + Endows the human face. + +Perhaps a new and careless eye + May not those beauties see, +And wonder to behold the power + Belinda has with me. + +The spell which holds this captive soul + She never would possess, +Were not her varying features rul'd + By sparkling playfulness, + +But when with aimless, trackless skill + Is twin'd a mazy chain, +In the warm foldings of a heart, + Perforce it must remain. + + + + +VII. + + +Come, Magdalen, and bind my hair, + And put me on my sad array; +I to my father's house repair, + And hear his final doom to-day. + +But wrap me in that cypress veil; + At first his eye I would not brave, +'Till he shall bid the mourner hail, + And knows I come from Edwin's grave. + +I, late his boast, his heir, his pride, + Must like a guilty vassal kneel; +I, who was gallant Edwin's bride, + Must to my widow'd state appeal! + +Closely within my heart must keep + His praise for whom that heart is riv'n, +And let each fond resentment sleep, + For I must die or be forgiven. + + + + +VIII. + +_The Spanish Lady's Farewell_, 1809. + + +Manuel, I do not shed a tear, + Our parting to delay! +I dare not listen to my fear! + I dare not bid thee stay! + +The heart may shrink, the spirit fail, + But Spaniards must be free; +And pride and duty shall prevail + O'er all my love for thee! + +Then go! and round that gallant head, + Like banners in the air, +Shall float full many a daring hope, + And many a tender prayer! + +Should freedom perish--at thy death, + 'T'were folly to repine-- +And I should every feeling lose, + Except the wish for mine! + +But if the destiny of Spain, + Be once again to rise, +Oh! grant me heaven, to read the tale, + In Manuel's joyful eyes! + + + + +IX. + +SONNET. + + + I am unskill'd in speech: my tongue is slow +The graceful courtesies of life to pay; +To deck kind meanings up in trim array, + Keeping the mind's soft tone: words such as flow + From Complaisance, when she alone inspires! + And Caution, with a care that never tires, +Marshals each tribe of thoughts in such a way + That all are ready for their needful task, + The moment the occasion comes to ask, +All prompt to hear, to answer and obey; +When mine, undisciplin'd, their cause betray, + By coward falterings, or rebellious zeal!-- +And Art, though subtle, though sublime thy sway, + I doubt if thou canst rule us, when we feel! + + + + +X. + +ALL' AMICA. + + +And didst thou think that worldly art +Would mould anew this shrinking heart? +No! as a bird, by storms opprest, +Is sheltered in its silent nest, +I nurse and soothe it in the strife, +Screen from the bleakest airs of life, +And bring it all that once you knew, +As kind, as timid, and as true! + +But how could I so foolish be, +As not to feel a doubt of thee?-- +This joy to find me still the same +Takes from my lip the power to blame; +Else, but forgive me, else I find +A mist has stolen o'er thy mind, +And veil'd my prospect; dimm'd that light +Which once was warm, and clear, and bright. + + + + +XI. + +TO THE SAME. + + +Go forth, my voice, through the wild air, + In the lone stillness of the night, + Beneath the cold moon's pale blue light; +Seek Eugenia, and declare, +As warmth and promise lurk below +A waste of lifeless, drifted snow; + +So, while my lips inertly move, + While many heavy fetters bind, + And press upon my languid mind, +Oh! tell her not to doubt my love! +Affection still her hold shall keep, +Although her weary servants sleep. + +Friendship to me is like a flower, + Yielding a balm for human woe, + I less than ever could forego; +More prized, more needed every hour! +Perchance it dies for want of care, +But as it withers, I despair! + + + + +XII. + +_To the late Lady Rouse Boughton_. + + +'Tis said, that jealous of a name + We all would praise confine, +And choke the leading path to fame + In our peculiar line. + +But vainly should detraction preach + If once I made it known, +The art of pleasing thou would'st teach + Acknowledg'd for thy own. + + + + +XIII. + + +Yes! I can suffer, sink with pain, +With anguish I can ill sustain; +Till not a hope has strength to spring, +Till scarce a prayer can lift its wing; +Yet in my inmost heart there lies +A living fount that will arise, +And, of itself, diffuse a balm, +A healing and refreshing calm, +A pure delight, a cooling glow, +Which Hate and Meanness cannot know! + +Yes! I can faint, and I can fear, +The power of petty creatures here, +Who trick dark deeds in gay disguise, +And weave their web of brooded lies, +With so few threads made smooth and fair, +All seems plain sense and reason there; +And yet I would not learn their art, +Nor have their paltry spells by heart, +Their rankling blood within my veins, +For all the treasure earth contains! + +Oft, panic-struck, I sink, dismay'd, +Call, with expiring faith, for aid; +When all my efforts useless seem, +Emptied of force as in a dream, +My courage knows to persevere, +Entwin'd, o'ergrown, o'ertowered by fear! +As he who summoned in the night, +At sudden wreck, in wild affright, +Once throws his arms around a mast, +Continues still to hold it fast, +When sight and strength and aim are flown, +When cold, benumb'd, and senseless grown, +My soul, by hurrying tempests driven, +Though blinded from the light of Heaven, +Clinging, all hope, all comfort o'er, +Must yet awaken on the shore! + + + + +XIV. + +TO MR. AND MRS. EVERARD, + +_On their only Son's being in the Navy_, 1811. + + -------- + +Talent and beauty, and the heart's warm glow, +Gilding with Heavenly light his path below, +Few with such rare felicity have won, +In that rich prize, a dear and only son; +And fewer but those faculties would doom +To the soft prison of a pamper'd home; +Check his bold wishes when they soar'd on high, +And see well-pleas'd each early vision die; +But ye, enweaving, as to me appears, +With his bright hopes, those of maturer years, +Hallowing the web, with all that parents feel, +The saintly trust in Heav'n, the patriot's zeal, +The aching doubts, that still tenacious wind +Around the lofty and the tender mind; +Ye, with a more than Roman virtue, yield, +To the proud strife of Albion's liquid field, +This darling; and, in whispers, bid him wear +The finest wreath that buds and blossoms there; +And I could almost say I heard a strain +Pronounce--the sacrifice should not be vain! + + + + +XV. + +TO THE HON. LADY J----, + +_With the Picture of her Grand-daughter, the present Lady Petre._ + +1813. + + +Behold the semblance of thy flower! + I could not fill its leaves with dew, +Shew its tints varying with the hour, + Its motion as the zephyrs blew. + +And beauty too were more complete, + Appearing on the native stem, +In midst of buds and blossoms sweet, + And catching graces, charms from them. + +Or blooming under eyes like thine, + Whose fond, soft gaze, whose tender tear, +Must also, losing power divine, + Awake no answering sweetness here. + +For much of loveliness must sleep, + E'en when inspir'd and led by truth; +The faithful pencil aims to keep + Mildness and innocence and youth. + + + + +XVI. + +To MRS. A. + + +An Hour was before me, no creature more bright, +More airy, more joyous, e'er sprang on my sight. +To catch and to fetter I instantly tried, +And "thou art my slave, pretty vagrant," I cried. + +I had hold, and securely I thought, of its wing, +O! how I shall glory, so lovely a thing +To place by the cradle of friendship, and see, +With the aid of my captive, if I can be free. + +Oh! while she is with me, some means may be found +To temper the air and to hallow the ground-- +To make those entangling bind-weeds decay, +Drive Suspicion, who rear'd them, for ever away, +And leave all around, kind, and healthful, and gay! + +When this can be compass'd, I'll build me a bower, +And twine in the trellice each sweet-scented flower-- +Rare, delicate plants, whose large, fresh leaves shall fling +Green shadows, where birds in the stillness may sing. + +A place of repose, when the spirit is faint, +And the heart wants to utter a passing complaint: +Of safety; for pure and serene be the air, +And nothing unkind or unholy be there! + +In this sacred retreat I my cares would confide, +And there my half-forming opinions should hide; +If true, gather strength for the brightness of day-- +If false, in the shade, unreprov'd, die away! + +How fondly I nourish'd these hopes, but in vain! +The calm and the stillness I could not retain; +My Hour fled away, every wish unfulfill'd, +And warm'd not the Friendship Suspicion had chill'd! + + + + +XVII. + + +LINES + +_Sent to a Brother on his leaving England_. + +May 2, 1816. + + -------- + +FANCIFUL BOUQUET. + + -------- + +_Hopes_ all glowing, _Wishes_ rare, + _Blessings_ mixed with many a _Prayer_, +Flowers as yet beyond compare, + Though flourishing in northern air. + +_Farewells_ twined with tender _Fears_, + _Golden day-dreams_, gemm'd with tears, +_Affections_ nurtur'd many years, + Before this perfect bloom appears. + +_Thoughts_ of fondness and of pride, + _Love-vanities_ we need not hide; +_Heart-blossoms_, in its crimson dyed, + For you, are here together tied. + +And yet they all appear too poor, + Though goodness can ensure no more; +Though monarchs, whom the world adore, + Would purchase such with all their store. + +And while this charmed gift we send, + We know where'er your footsteps bend, +The looks and tones that win the friend, + That kindness, nature, truth, attend, + +Are yours, and must be with you still, + Angelic guards, go where they will, +To ward off much surrounding ill, + And happiest destinies fulfil. + + + + +XVIII. + + +_Written jointly with a particular Friend, after a conversation +similar to the subject, with the Damon of the Story_. + + -------- + +Believing love was all a bubble, +And wooing but a needless trouble, +Damon grew fond of posied rings, +And many such romantic things; +But whether it were Fortune's spite, +That study wound his brain too tight, +Or that his fancy play'd him tricks, +He could not on the lady fix. + He look'd around, + And often found, +A damsel passing fair; + "_She's good enough,_" he then would cry, + And rub his hands, and wink his eye, +"_I'll be enamour'd there!_" + +He thus resolved; but had not power +To hold the humour "_half an hour_"-- +And critics, vers'd in Cupid's laws, +Pretended they had found a clause, + In an old volume on the shelf;-- +Which said, if arrows chanc'd to fly, +When no bright nymph was passing by, +And lighted on a vacant breast; +The swain, Narcissus-like possest, + Strait doated on himself! + +If so, his anxious friends declar'd +All future trouble might be spar'd: +A heart thus pierc'd would never rove, +Nor meanly seek a second love; +No distance e'er could give him pain-- +No rivalry torment his brain. +Self-love will bear a many knocks, +A thousand mortifying shocks; +One moment languish in despair, +The next alert and debonair. + +Poor Damon bit his nails and sigh'd, +But still he was not satisfied; +He could not rest, nor be content, +Until to Cupid's court he went. +Of rules establish'd in the place, +Or, how to enter with a grace, +He own'd he neither knew nor car'd, +But thought _such nonsense better spar'd_, +And went undaunted and alone +To place himself before the throne. +He kiss'd no hand, he bent no knee, +Nor measur'd steps of one, two, three, +But made a careless, slouching bow, +And said, "Your highness will allow, +That I am personable, tall, +A rather handsome face withal, +And fit to serve as volunteer, +At least as any present here! +Purblind, and deaf, and long and short, +Without distinction here resort; +Whilst I, neglected and forgot, +Sate daily watching in my cot; +And scarcely stirr'd, for fear there might, +Arrive that morning or that night +A captaincy, or some commission, +For I confess I have ambition, +And think if none had done me wrong +I had not been o'erlook'd so long. +To come then, Sir, I thought my duty, +Oh! make me sensible to beauty! +The ice about my bosom melt! +Infuse a warmth it never felt! +I come uncall'd! excuse my boldness! +In truth I could not bear the coldness!" + +Half piqued to see him thus intrude, +And question in a way so rude; +Half tickled at the strange address, +Cupid said gravely, "We confess + There may be reason in your plea; +But still we very much admire +Your entering in such strange attire! + We cannot such omissions see, +And countenance--It should appear, +You know not we are sovereign here! +The soldiers of our chosen band +Approach not till we give command. +We every look and action sway, +And they with prompt delight obey. +For height, and size, and such like things, +We care far less than other kings; +But station, learning, no pretence, +Can make us with our power dispense. +The warrior must not here look big, +The lawyer doffs his forked wig, +The portly merchant rich and free, +Forgets his pride and bends the knee; +The doctor gives his terrors scope, +And, like a patient, whines for hope; +In short the wise have childish fits, +And fools and madmen find their wits. +"Then go--this silly pride subdue, +And thou shall be our servant too! +Acquire the courtly way of speech, +Not, 'do you hear?' but, 'I beseech.' +And let a suitor's voice and air, +Thy grievances and zeal declare, +We never scorn a humble prayer!" + +Expecting then a heart submiss, +He held him forth his hand to kiss; +For petrified the while he spoke, +With troubled wonder in his look +Poor Damon stood; aghast, suspended, +But gain'd his senses as he ended; +Abruptly turning on his toe, +"I thank you, Master Cupid, no! +I am a freeman and a brave, +And will not stoop to be a slave. +Your rules will never do for me, +I'd rather learn the rule of three-- +"And since I find it is the plan, +To make me an automaton, +I'll case my heart in triple mail, + And fence it so completely round, +That all this vaunted skill shall fail, + Those blunted arrows back rebound; +For know, usurper! from this hour, +I scorn thy laws, abjure thy power! +From this dear moment I despise +The whole artillery of eyes; +Reason alone shall be my guide, +And Reason's voice shall win my bride. +Some bonny lass shall say I can +Love you as well as any man; +I will the self-same troth accord, +Most gladly take her at her word; +And we may just as happy prove +Without the fooleries of love. +She must not ask so much attention, +As many ladies I could mention; +But when I do not want to sway, +I'll always let her have her way; +And study to oblige her too, +When I have nothing else to do; +And am not tired, or wish to rest, +Or like some other plan the best, +For, more than this would be a task, +None but thy votaries would ask. +She must have riches, beauty, grace, +And modest sweetness in her face." +Just then he saw a scornful sneer +Upon Dan Cupid's face appear; +While courtiers whispered with a grin, +"Poor fellow, he'll be taken in! +The finest birds are always shy, +The rarest at a distance fly, +And Reason cannot soar so high." +"Aye, you may laugh, to prove her mind +At once exalted and refined, +I'll watch her skill in music's art; +By ear and fingers judge the heart, +And then it will not be believ'd +I can be easily deceiv'd. +I only grieve that in my prime +I've wasted so much precious time, +For long ere this I might have married, +Had I not so unwisely tarried, +And vex'd my brains in looking round +For that which never could be found." + +"And would'st thou wish," the monarch cried, +"To set our gentle laws aside? +Thou hast no friend in Common Sense, +In such affairs she thinks it wisest, +To stand aside without pretence, +And sanction laws which thou despisest. +But try the plan, it merits praise, +Success may crown its winning ways! +The lady must be blind indeed, + With whom such offers of neglect, + And cool, habitual disrespect +Would not succeed. +But come no longer here to flout us, +Since, truly, thou canst do without us; +For dignity is lost in sport, +An outlaw for contempt of court; +We banish thee with all thy pride +Until thy heart be rarified." + + + + +XIX. + +ABSENCE. + +_Written in Derbyshire, by the same Friend._ + + -------- + +When recollection brings to mind, +The kindred ties I've left behind, +The converse gentle and refin'd, + I grieve! + +Deep the regret, the pain extreme, +And yet I fondly love the dream, +And find the sad, delightful theme + Relieve. + +It bids all present forms decay, +All present feelings fade away; +Impeding distance, long delay + Are o'er! + +Fancy, so active in the gloom, +Till some one enters in the room, +Can all the images of home + Restore. + +Alas! when weeks, and months are past, +Shall I that home behold at last, +Which even the dark clouds overcast + Endear? + +Lest one of all the cares that dart +Like arrows round each thoughtful heart, +May pierce ere then some vital part + I fear! + + + + +XX. + +_On reading in Savary's Travels the death of Ali Bey, who, it is +there represented, in the midst of enlightened and benevolent efforts +to benefit his country, was repeatedly betrayed, and at length taken +captive by his brother-in-law, whom he had advanced and loved, and +who, till the very last, he could not believe to be his enemy_. + + -------- + +O generous Ali! while thy fate inspires +Indignant pity, with a patriot's fires, +I mourn for Egypt, and with equal zeal, +For her, for thee, and ruin'd science feel: +Admire the confidence my heart deplores +And blame the weakness it almost adores! + +Pride of thy race! before my mental eyes, +I see thee, like another Alfred rise; +See honour splendent on thy ample brow, +While Thought and Genius fill the orbs below; +Those beaming orbs! where lofty sweetness shone, +And where the soul sate smiling on her throne: +Depriv'd too soon of that benignant ray, +Which impious Dahab shudder'd to survey. +Pale, bleeding, conquer'd, dying, and forlorn, +I see thee view the wretch with silent scorn! +See thy cheek flush at the false tears he shed, +And proudly turn away the languid head, +With mingled anger, sorrow, and disdain, +That he should dare to tempt thy love again! + +Oh! yet within the tent I see thee lie, +The victor, like a coward, crouching by; +O'erawed, rebuked, and humbled in the hour, +The plenitude of his success and power! +A pain the guilty never make us know, +In all the miseries they cause below; +A pain which they in every triumph feel, +A humbling sense no glory yet could heal, +The want of conscious worth, the poignant thought, +That inwardly sets all pretence at naught! +That curbs all self-applause--tears all disguise-- +When the subdued, the ruin'd can _despise_; +And, in the arms of death, can yet be free, +To say, "Let me be any thing but thee!" + +Ambition! while thy zeal the good inflame, +And make a noble nature sigh for fame, +We deem thee of a more than royal line, +For self-devotion tendeth to divine! +But when, like Dahab's demon, selfish, vain, +It loosens Gratitude's mysterious chain; +When broken Faith aloud, but vainly calls; +When the warm friend, the king, the brother falls; +Instead of honours, and a conqueror's fame, +Hatred shall haunt, and curses brand thy name! + + + + +XXI. + + +LINES. + +_Written for a Young Gentleman to speak at the Audit at St. Saviour's +School, Southwark, after the Battle of Trafalgar_. + + -------- + +While others, from the Greek and Roman page, +Declare the prudent councils of the sage; +Or, in recital of achievements bold, +Retrace the motives and the deeds of old, +I, in the accents of my native clime, +And, at the moment, shaking hands with Time, +I, whom our recent loss forbids to roam, +Shall plant my mourning standard nearer home! +At the sad shrine where gallant Nelson sleeps, +Where Britain bends her lofty head and weeps, +Deeply lamenting that she cannot prove, +The fond excess of dearly purchas'd love. + +Is there a callous mind, that does not feel +An anxious interest in the public weal! +Is there a heart that pities not the brave! +To whom luxuriant laurels hide the grave! +A grief unwing'd, yet unconsol'd by pride! +A tongue that said not, when our hero died, +While bitter tears that glorious loss deplore, +The man who _lov'd his country_ is no more? +No! in each eye the glowing trophies fade; +Each sign of triumph seems a vain parade! +The aching sigh to conquering shouts succeeds, +And Victory assumes a widow's weeds. + +Some wily chieftain, building up a name, +May fight for immortality and fame; +Time may embalm his valour, or his art, +And History shew the coldness of a heart, +Which, emulous of grandeur and a throne, +Acts for itself, "_its own low self_" alone; +And, in the inner chambers of the mind, +Broods over plans to subjugate mankind: +There fondly bends each nation to his sway, +That he may rule, and all beside obey. +Haply the mighty fabric may arise, +Vast in its bulk, and aiming at the skies, +Till Wisdom, viewing the enormous pile, +Admires the madness of a man the while, +Who labours with incessant toil and skill; +To feed Ambition, discontented still; +And for that serpent in his bosom curl'd, +Erects a temple fit to hold the world! + +Though such a chief a deathless wreath may crown, +Though he may win a sterile, hard renown, +His name shall ne'er a sudden glow impart, +Nor make the tear of admiration start; +Ne'er in his plaudits shall warm blessings join! +None cry, "The triumph of that man is mine!" +But, when his greatness crumbles in the dust, +Coldly exclaim, "Lo! Providence is just!" +Far different is the patriot warrior's lot! +He may in Time's long journey be forgot; +Though many generations shall decay, +Ere England's love to Nelson wears away! +But if at length successive years should cast +The mist of distance upon ages past, +And fathers what themselves have witness'd tell, +Of those who yet shall serve their country well-- +Memory and Knowledge shall dispel the gloom, +And shed strong light on every honour'd tomb-- +To lift the spirit when our courage fail, +When worth departed, future ages hail! + +And ye, compeers, who in the classic page, +Do homage to the hero and the sage, +Whose hearts at base and cruel actions bleed, +But rise triumphant at a noble deed-- +Forbear from Duty's anxious side to stray, +But follow bravely when she leads the way; +Follow with head and heart, as Nelson fought; +Be vigilant like him in act and thought; +Then, as the lark mounts upwards in the skies, +Early in life's fair morning will you rise, +Expand bold pinions nearest to the sun, +And claim the meed of glory fairly won. + + + + +XXII. + +TO THE HETMAN, PLATOFF. + + -------- + +O ancient warrior! as we hail thee, + And behold thy cordial smile, +We hope that greetings ne'er may fail thee, + Such as those of Britain's isle. + +They are, although so seeming rude, + Given only where we think them due; +Most courteous, e'en when they intrude, + Too vehement, but always true! + +Applauses which no art can fashion, + Which speak the feelings and no more; +Which give respect the glow of passion, + When worth and valour we adore; + +Blest is the hero in receiving! + And pride may scoff at, or despise, +What if but once sincere believing, + Is grateful to the good and wise. + + + + +XXIII. + +_On the Death of Master Frederic Thomson_. + +1810. + + -------- + +In the first dawn of youth I much admire +The lively boy of ruddy countenance, +Strong-built, and bold, and hardy, with black hair, +And dark brown eye, contrasting its blue-white, +Somewhat abruptly; save in the bright hour +Of inward passion, or of sudden joy; +When, as a monarch, gracious and renown'd, +Amid a crowd of subjects, diverse all, +Thrills with one deep, soft feeling every heart; +Or, as the sun throws his pervading beams +At once on bleak harsh mountains and the sky; +The soul, by union of its light and heat, +Clears and irradiates all, and gives to strength +A mellow sweetness; hues late undefin'd +Grow more intense, or, if discordant, lose +Their coarseness, and become diaphanous. +This I admire, but still methinks I look +With a serener pleasure on the head +Crested by flaxen curls; or where soft locks, +Like to long coiling leaves that lose their edge, +Shine silken on the cheek, and parting smooth +Above a fair and modest countenance, +Harmonize with its pure, its tender bloom. +Still lovelier when with that infusion sweet +Of saint or angel spirit, resident +In the calm circle of a blue eye fring'd +With sable lashes! I remember once +A face like this, ere sickness took away +Its freshness, in whose looks there also dwelt, +If one may speak it of a thing so young, +And not subdue our warm belief to say +The prophecy of all these qualities, +Refinement, gentleness, and mild resolve; +Fitted to stem the evil of this world, +And hold with patient intrepidity, +The shield of calm resistance to its power. +It seem'd as if no anger e'er could dwell +Within his bosom; no blind prejudice +Distract his judgment; and no folly call +For a reproof: as if Affection were +Too soon allied to Thought, and tempered so +His morning, that the ministry of Time, +The chast'ning trial of Remorse and Grief, +And of stern Disappointment, all were spar'd. + + + + +XXIV. + +_On the Death of Herbert Southey: addressed to his Father_. + + -------- + +Knowing the nature of thy grief, +Too deep, too recent for relief, +Oh! why impatient must I press +So early on a friend's distress! +Why am I eager thus to prove, +To him who feels excess of love, +The tender liking we bestow +On fair and guileless things below? +On Love and Joy without pretence, +On kind and playful Innocence! +The pleas'd idea Memory kept, +The partial glance which never slept, +When hopes arose oft render'd vain, +Of seeing Keswick yet again. + +Never but once a child had won +So much upon me as thy son; +And, for each wild and winning art, +That, nestling, fastens in the heart; +For graces that light tendrils fling +Around each nerve's tenacious string; +Caprices beautiful, that strike +The heart, and captive fancy, like +Those of a tame, young bird at play, +That carols near, then flits away, +Will on a sudden upward soar, +Then give its little wanderings o'er, +For fondling, gentle, sweet repose, +When tapering pinions softly close, +Slight, warmth--pervaded quills are prest, +And head shrunk closely to the breast: +All sleeping but that lovely eye, +Which speaks delight, and asks reply: +Oh! with such graces never one +Was so much gifted as thy son! +In each variety of tone, +Each wayward charm, he stood alone; +And all too nicely pois'd to press, +Or ruffle tranquil happiness. + +If thus a stranger thinks, who knew +Him but an infant--if he grew +With all the promise that appear'd +So brightly then, still more endear'd-- +If, as the Honey with the Bee, +Affection dwells with poesy: +If that Affection is comprest, +And hoarded in a Father's breast, +Whose very soul doth blessings shed +Upon a grateful darling's head; +While every look is treasur'd there, +Till Thought itself becomes a prayer, +And Hopes hang on him full and gay. +"As blossoms on a bough in May"[1]-- +Shall any venture to intrude +On thee? Oh! not with footstep rude, +But with a timorous zeal I come, +Just hang this wreath upon his tomb-- +Record fond wishes sadly o'er, +To see my little favourite more! + + * * * * * + +[Footnote 1: + As many hopes hang on his noble head + As blossoms on a bough in May; and sweet ones! + --_Beaumont and Fletcher._] + + + + +XXV. + + +Fear has to do with sacred things, +And more than all from Pity springs. +Two school-girls once--the time is past, +But ever will the memory last-- +This moral to my fancy drew, +In colours brilliant, deep, and true. + +Mute, blooming, one all-wondering stands, +The elder kisses oft her hands, +Bends o'er with fainting, fond caress, +And languishes in strong distress. +Clings to her shoulder, were it meet, +Seems wishing to embrace her feet; +Like one impatient to implore, +Who dreads the time is nearly o'er, +To ask or to receive a boon, +Which must be known and granted soon. +A boon with life itself entwin'd, + One that her lips refus'd to name, + However oft the impulse came. +Such was the picture--but her mind +Forgetting self--could not arise, +To look in those unconscious eyes! +The zeal that prompted, were she free +To serve her friend on bended knee, +Shrunk from the orphan's gaze, just hurl'd, +Lonely and poor upon the world-- +Unknowing yet her loss, endeared, +By its excess, and therefore fear'd! + +Thus has it ever seem'd to me, +That Pity made a Deity +Of Mortal Suffering--that her ray +Melted all blame, all scorn away! +That when her arms the dying fold, +When her pure hands the loathsome hold, +Disgust and Dread, their power forego, +The Aegis drops from Human Woe, +Whose false and cruel glare alone +Turned other living hearts to stone. + + + + +XXVI. + + +ELEGY ON EDWARD BETHAM, + +_Lost in the Duchess of Gordon East Indiaman, off the Cape of Good +Hope_. + + -------- + +Lovely as are the wide and sudden calms +Upon a lake, when all the waters rise, +To smooth each undulation, and present +A plain of molten silver--is the hope, +Dear Edward, of thy safety--which now comes +To fill, expand, and elevate my heart-- +String every nerve, and give to every vein, +A warmer and a sweeter sense of life! + +Welcome, oh! welcome, that most healing hope, +Pouring abroad an efficacious ray +Into the aching bosom!--Tidings sweet +Those of such prompt return, with wisdom gain'd +By suffering, but with all thy innocence, +All thy accustomed gaiety of heart, +And all thy deep, quick sensibilities! +Those gems of virtue, which concentre still +In narrow limits, stores of moral wealth +Beyond all estimate--whose value known, +The dealer sells his other merchandize; +His ivory and curious workmanship, +The silkworm's product and the cloth of gold, +To purchase that imperishable store, +More highly prized than all!--Possessing all +The properties, most precious of the rest, +In a superior measure and degree, +Without alloy, sparkling with inward light! +Unseen, untraced the process of his growth!-- +No aid from any human hand or care!--- +No nourishment from any earthly dews! +No ripening from our bright, material sun! +But secretly supplied by Providence +With some more pure, diviner aliment, +And with more heavenly, searching radiance fill'd; +For the superior comfort, higher bliss +Of that in-drinking eye the soul of man! + +Thus sang I, when fallacious hopes were rais'd +Of his dear safety--whom, howe'er belov'd-- +However strong in health, and firmly built +Like a fine statue of the antique world, +As if he might have reach'd a century +Without decrepitude, we ne'er again-- +Nor we alone, no other human eye-- +Can e'er behold! Then had I painted him +Returning, as he lately left our shores, +With all the fairness and the bloom of youth-- +The light brown hair, and its soft yellow gleams, +Brightened with silver; thickening into shade, +Now with a dove-like, now a chesnut hue! +The smile of Peace and Love and joyful Hope! +And those blue eyes, through whose dark lash the soul, +Rejoicing, from its kind and happy home, +Look'd forth with rapture, artless, and uncheck'd! +Eyes, where Delight in careless luxury +Lay nestling and indulging blissful thoughts; +With every day-dream, for whose food the world +Offers magnificence and loveliness; +All graceful motions, and all graceful forms. +The ripened nectar of delicious sounds, +The social haunt--the lonely quiet hour; +The Hopes embodying innocent and gay +As those of Childhood, whose soft footstep past +Not long before, not yet forgotten, by! + +The letter, dearest, blotted with thy tears, +In answer to a caution--fear--express'd +By much too strongly--often gives my heart +A secret pang--but of remorse for nought +But paining thee--too tender to endure +The thought that self-indulgence, or neglect, +Causing increas'd disquietude and care, +Might, by increased disquietude and care, +Open the grave for him who gave thee birth! +How often and how warmly did'st thou ask, +With epithets of fondness, how I dar'd +Imagine such a horror, and to one +Present, who would have died, or borne extremes +Of any hard endurance, not to give +The slightest anguish to a parent's breast! +Alas! the cruel rashness of reproof-- +The busy vigilance of human pride-- +Like a too eager partizan, may strike, +To ward off danger from his chieftain's head, +A fellow soldier zealous in the cause! + +As of this world, this visible, wide world, +This earth, with all its forests, all its plants, +All its deep mines, its rivers, and its seas, +Yea! all that breathes, and moves, and clings to life +By any subtler impulse, which eludes +Our blunted observation:--as of this, +All that appears and all that is, so much +Remains, in scorn of science, unexplor'd; +So, in the not less wond'rous moral world, +The innermost recesses of the mind, +We see as little; save, Phoenician like, +By petty trade and parley on its coasts, +Talk by interpreters, impatient guess, +Or careless resting in incertitude, +At meanings in a tongue almost unknown; +Or so corrupted by this intercourse, +That all its native harmony is lost, +Its irresistible persuasions o'er! +The clearness and the sweetness of its tones, +Its loftiness, simplicity and truth. + +All that we hear is coarse and limited, +And yet we sail along and search no more, +And look no farther, though the ear is pall'd +With the vile din of tame monotony, +The taste perverted, judgment led astray, +By soul-annihilating idleness, +By universal, strengthless poverty, +Which leans upon its neighbour for support, +And lifts the eye for sanction, or assent, +To weakness still more helpless than its own! + +Two thousand years the sanctuary's veil +Has now been rent asunder, shewing all +That, to the patient and unsandall'd foot, +Egress and regress freely are allowed +Through that most glorious temple, where abstract, +And long a stranger to the vulgar eye, +Thought held her silent rule, and mission'd forth +Her sealed and unquestion'd messengers. +Yet those who follow nature when the track +Is finer than a hair--those who can cleave +The subtile and combined elements +That form a drop of water--those can shrink +From the more holy alchemy enjoin'd, +Call'd for by that disgust the heart conceives +At the usurping empire of pretence; +At all those useless and disgraceful chains, +Which tie us down, and imp with aptest wings, +Falsehood and selfishness, who ought to creep +In their own reptile slime, and dart away +When eyes perceiv'd their presence. Oh! could those +Adventure in too perilous a path, +If without other guide than the bright stars, +The love of what is lofty and divine, +Or the desire of gaining for mankind, +Now fettered and held down to poison'd food, +Its unpolluted birth-right + --they dared on, +Plunging at once into untravelled realms, +And bringing, as the harvest of their toil, +Arms which will make each potent talisman, +Each charm, and spell, and dire enchantment sink +In endless infamy--without a hope +To trick their bloated, and their wither'd limbs, +In any Proteus vestment of disguise, +Again to awe and ruinate the world. + +Oh! my dear brother, little did I think +These lines would be prophetic, yet to me +They seem so; for I since have felt deep woe, +And passed through seas of anguish to attain +A view of mysteries wonderful and sad-- +Since they are rivetted, through every clime, +With shame, and guilt, and wretchedness on all +That bear what only is the _curse_ of life, +Whilst they remain, which have confronted time, +Wearing the semblance, sporting with the names +Of truth and valour, liberty and God, +Successfully, through each recorded age, +But yet _may_ fall, and will, I trust and hope! + + + +FINIS. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vignettes in Verse, by Matilda Betham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIGNETTES IN VERSE *** + +***** This file should be named 11194.txt or 11194.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/1/9/11194/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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