The affrighted Belvidera, following next,
As she stood trembling on the vessel's side,
Was by a wave wash'd off into the deep;
When instantly I plunged into the sea,
And buffeting the billows to her rescue,
Redeem'd her life with half the loss of mine.
Like a rich conquest in one hand I bore her,
And with the other dash'd the saucy waves,
That throng'd and press'd to rob me of my prize.
I brought her gave her to your despairing arms:
Indeed, you thanked me! but a nobler gratitude
Rose in her soul; for from that hour she loved me,
Till for her life, she paid me with herself.
Pri. You stole her from me, like a thief you stole her
At dead of night; that cursed hour you chose
To rifle me of all my heart held dear.
May all your joys in her prove false like mine!
A sterile fortune, and a barren bed,
Attend you both; continual discord, make
Your days and nights bitter and grievous still;
May the hard hand of a vexatious need
Oppress and grind you; till at last, you find
The curse of disobedience all your portion!
Jaff. Half of your curse you have bestowed in vain ;
Heaven hath already crown'd our faithful loves
With a young boy sweet as his mother's beauty:
May he live to prove more gentle than his grandsire,
And happier than his father!
Jaff. Yes, all; and then-adieu for ever!
There's not a wretch that lives on common charity,
But's happier than I; for I have known
The luscious sweets of plenty; every night
Hath slept with soft content about my head,
And never waked but to a joyful morning :
Yet now must fall: like a full ear of corn,
Whose blossom 'scaped, yet's wither'd in the ripening.
Pri. Home, and be humble; study to retrench;
Discharge the lazy vermin of thy hall,
Those pageants of thy folly;
Reduce the glittering trappings of thy wife
To humble weeds, fit for thy little state;
Then to some suburb cottage both retire;
Drudge to feed loathsome life; get brats, and starve.— Home, home, I say.
Jaff. Yes, if my heart would let me—
This proud, this swelling heart; home I would go,
But that my doors are hateful to my eyes,
Fill'd and damm'd up with gaping creditors.
I've not now fifty ducats in the world;
Yet still I am in love and pleased with ruin.
Oh! Belvidera!-Oh! she is my wife-
And we will bear our wayward fate together-
But ne'er know comfort more.
BILL JONES: A SAILOR'S STORY.
MATTHEW GREGORY LEWIS.
"Now, well-a-day!" the sailor said,
"Some danger doth impend:
Three ravens sit in yonder glade,
And harm will happen, I'm sore afraid,
Ere we reach our journey's end."
"And what have the ravens with us to do?
Does their sight then bode us evil?"
"Why, to find one raven is lucky, 'tis true;
But 'tis certain destruction to light upon two,
And meeting with three is the devil.
"I've known full three score years go by,
And only twice before
I've seen three ravens near me fly;
And twice good cause to wish had I
That I ne'er might see them more.
"The first time I was wrecked at sea;
The second time, by fire
I lost my wife and children three
That self-same night; and woe is me
That I did not then expire!
"Still do I hear their screams for aid,
Which to give was past man's power;
I saw in earth their coffins laid,—
Well, my heart of marble must be made,
Since it did not break that hour!"
"Poor soul! your tale of many woes
Brings tears into my eyes:
But think you that your ills arose
Because you saw your fancied foes,
Three ravens, near you rise?
"No doubt, since this fantastic fear
Has thus possessed your head,
You firmly believe that ghosts appear,
And that dead men rise from their blood-stained
To haunt the murderer's bed."
"Believe it, master? well I may! Now mark what I relate;
For Gospel-true are the words I say,
When I swear, that, during three weeks and a day,
A GHOST was my own shipmate.
My cash run low-no beef, no flip,
And the times were hard to live;
So I e'en resolved to make a trip
For slaves, on board of a Guinea ship,
Which crime may God forgive!
"Oh, 'twas a sad, sad thing to hear
The negroes scream and groan,
And curse the billows which bore them near
To the tyrant white-man's land of fear,
And far, far away from their own!
"But soon the sailor found his part
Scarce better than the slaves';
For our captain had a tiger's heart,
And he plagued his crew with such barbarous art,
We all wished us in our graves!
"We scarce were two days' sail from port,
Ere many a back was flayed;
He flogged us oft in wanton sport;
His heart was of stone, not flesh-in short,
He was fit for such a trade.
Though each in turn was treated ill,
'Mongst all the crew alone
Bill Jones opposed our tyrant's will;
For Bill was cross and old, and still
Did give him back his own.
"And many a brutal harsh command
Old Bill has grumbled at;
Till once he was ordered a sail to hand,
When Bill was so weak he scarce could stand,
But the captain scoffed at that.
"For a lazy old brute, poor Bill he abused,
And forced him aloft to go:
But their duty to do his limbs refused,
And at length from the ropes his hands Bill loosed,
And he fell on the deck below.
"Towards him straight the captain flew,
Crying Dog! dost serve me so ?'
And with devilish spite his sword he drew,
And ran Bill Jones quite through and through,
And the blow was a mortal blow.
"At the point of death poor Bill now lies,
And stains the deck with gore;
And fixing his own on his murderer's eyes, 'Captain! alive or dead,' he cries,
'I ne'er will leave you more!'
"You wont?' says the captain: 'time will show If you keep your word or not;
For now in the negro kettle below,
Old dog! your scoundrel limbs I'll throw,
And I'll see what fat you've got!'
"So he caused the cook make the water hot,
And the corse, both flesh and bones,
(To see what fat Bill Jones had got)
The captain boiled in the negro pot ;-
But there was not much fat in Jones.
"If well his word the captain kept,
Bill Jones kept his as well;
For just at midnight all who slept,
With one consent, from their hammocks leapt,
Roused by a dreadful yell.
"Never was heard a more terrible sound: Fast to the deck we hied,
And there, by the moonbeam's light, we found
The murdered man, in spite of his wound,
Sitting close to the steersman's side.
"And from that hour, among the rest,
Bill served, nor left us more;
With bloody trousers, bloody vest,
And bloody shirt, and bloody breast,
Still he stood our eyes before.
"And he'd clean the deck, and fill the pail,
Or he'd work with right good will
To stop a leak, or drive a nail;
But whenever the business was handing a sail, Then specially ready was Bill.
"And to share in all things with the crew,
Did the spectre never miss;
And when to the cook for his portion due,
Each sailor went, Bill Jones went too,
And tendered his platter for his.
"His face look'd pale, his limbs seem'd weak, His footsteps fell so still,
That to hear their sound you'd vainly seek, And to none of the crew did Bill e'er speak, And none of us spoke to Bill.
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