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And shepherds pen their folds, and rest upon their An equal motion; swelling as it sleeps, crook.
Then slowly sinking; curling to the strand, We prune our hedges, prime our slender trees, Faint, lazy waves o'ercreep the ridgy sand, And nothing looks untutor'd and at ease;
Or tap the tarry boat with gentle blow, On the wide heath, or in the flowery vale,
And back return in silence, smooth and slow.
Ships in the calm seem anchor'd-for they glida
Where all beside is pebbly length of shore,
Might show his wrath, and then to sleep sink down. Or yon broad board, which guards each tempting View now the winter-storm! above, one cloud, prize,
Black and unbroken all the skies o'ershroud; “Like a tall bully, lifts its head and lies.”
Th' unwieldy porpus through the day before, There stands a cottage with an open door, Had rollid in view of boding men on shore; Its garden undefended blooms before:
And sometimes hid and sometimes show'd his form,
Dark as the cloud, and furious as the storm.
Upon the billows rising-all the deep
Breaking and sinking, and the sunken swells,
But nearer land you may the billows trace,
Curl'd as they come, they strike with furious force,
last. Forms a gay pillow for the plover's breast.
Far off the petril in the troubled way
And sports at ease on the tempestuous main. Their tea-house walk, their tipling rendezvous ; High o'er the restless deep, above the reach There humble couples sit in corner-bowers, Of gunner's hope, vast flights of wild ducks stretch; Or gaily ramble for th' allotted hours;
Far as the eye can glance on either side, Sailors and lasses from the town attend,
In a broad space and level line they glide; The servant-lover, the apprentice-friend;
All in their wedge-like figures from the north
, With all the idle social tribes who seek,
Day after day, flight after flight, go forth.
In shore their passage tribes of sea-gulls urge,
And drop for prey within the sweeping surge;
Far back, then turn, and all their force apply,
While to the storm they give their weak comShades after shades upon the surface run;
plaining cry; Embrown'd and horrid now, and now serene,
Or clap the sleek white pinion to the breast, In limpid blue, and evanescent green;
And in the restless ocean dip for rest. And oft the foggy banks on ocean lie,
Darkness begins to reign; the louder wind List the fair sail, and cheat th' experienced eye.
Appals the weak and awes the firmer mind; Be it the summer-noon: a sandy space
But frights not him, whom evening and the spray The ebbing tide has left upon its place;
In part conceal-yon prowler on his way: Then just the hot and stony beach above,
Lo! he has something seen; he runs apace, Light twinkling streams in bright confusion move;
As if he fear'd companion in the chace; (For heated thus, the warmer air ascends,
He sees his prize, and now he turns again, And with the cooler in its fall contends)
Slowly and sorrowing-"Was your search in vain?” Then the broad bosom of the ocean keeps
Gruffy he answers, * 'Tis a sorry sight!
Old Peter Grimes made fishing his employ,
His wife he cabin'd with him and his boy, In rious parties seamen hurry down;
And seem'd that life laborious to enjoy: Their wives pursue, and damsels urg'd by dread, To town came quiet Peter with his fish, Lest men so dear be into danger led;
And had of all a civil word and wish. Their head the gown has hooded, and their call
He left his trade upon the Sabbath-day, In this sad night is piercing like the squall;
And took young Peter in his hand to pray: They feel their kinds of power, and when they meet,
But soon the stubborn boy from care broke loose, Chide, fondle, weep, dare, threaten, or intreat.
At first refus'd, then added his abuse:
His father's love he scorn’d, his power defied,
But being drunk, wept sorely when he died. “Thou shalt not venture ;" and he answers No! Yes! then he wept, and to his mind there came "I will 20ť—still she cries, “ Thou shalt not go.”
Much of his conduct, and he felt the shame,
How he had oft the good old man revil'd,
" It is the Word of Life," the parent cried; On the wild waves, and all the danger shows;
- This is the life itself,' the boy replied; But shows them beaming in her shining vest,
And while old Peter in amazement stood,
Gave the hot spirit to his boiling blood :-
How he, with oath and furious speech, began
To prove his freedom and assert the man;
And when the parent check'd his impious rage,
How he had curs'd the tyranny of age,
Nay, once had dealt the sacrilegious blow
On his bare head, and laid his parent low;
The father groan'd" If thou art old," said he,
“ And hast a son-thou wilt remember me: Now parties form, and some their friends assist
Thy mother left me in a happy time, (crime." To waste the idle hours at sober whist;
Thou kill’dst not her–Heav'n spares the double
On an inn-settle, in his maudlin grief,
This he revolv'd, and drank for his relief.
Now liv'd the youth in freedom, but debarr'd
From constant pleasure, and he thought it hard;
Hard that he could not every wish obey,
But must awhile relinquish ale and play;
Hard! that he could not to his cards attend,
With greedy eye he look'd on all he saw,
He knew not justice, and he laugh'd at law;
On all he mark’d, he stretch'd his ready hand;
He fish'd by water and he filch'd by land:
Oft in the night has Peter dropp'd his oar,
Fled from his boat and sought for prey on shore;
Oft up the hedge-row glided on his back,
Bearing the orchard's produce in a sack,
Or farm-yard load, tugg'd fiercely from the stack;
And as these wrongs to greater numbers rose,
The more he look'd on all men as his foes.
He built a mud-wall'd hovel, where he kept
His various wealth, and there he oft times slept;
But no success could please his cruel soul,
He wish'd for one to trouble and controul;
He wanted some obedient boy to stand, But when a happier theme succeeds, and when
And bear the blow of his outrageous hand; Men are our subjects and the deeds of men ; And hop'd to find in some propitious hour Then may we find the Muse in happier style, A feeling creature subject to his power. And we may sometimes sigh and sometimes smile. Peter had heard there were in London then,
Still have they being ?-Workhouse-clearing men, Then came a boy, of manners soft and mildWho, undisturb’d by feelings just or kind,
Our seamen's wives with grief beheld the child;
TL Would parish boys to needy tradesmen bind: All thought (the poor themselves) that he was a They in their want a trifling sum would take, Of gentle blood, some noble sioper's son, And toiling slaves of piteous orphans make.
Who had, belike, deceiv'd some humble maid,
TE Such Peter sought, and when a lad was found, Whom he had first seduc'd and then betray'd:
TE The sum was dealt him, and the slave was bound. However this, be seem'd a gracious lad,
E Some few in town observ'd in Peter's trap
In grief submissive and with patience sad. A boy, with jacket blue and woollen cap;
Passive he labour'd, till his slender frame But none inquir'd how Peter us’d the rope,
Bent with his loads, and he at length was lame: Or what the bruise, that made the stripling stoop; Strange that a frame so weak could bear so long None could the ridges on his back behold,
The grossest insult and the foulest wrong; None sought him shiv'ring in the winter's cold; But there were causes-in the town they gate
BE None put the question,–“ Peter, dost thou give Fire, food, and comfort, to the gentle slave; The boy his food ?-What, man! the lad must live: And though stern Peter, with a cruel hand, Consider, Peter, let the child have bread,
And knotted rope, enforc'd the rude command, He'll serve thee better if he's strok'd and fed." Yet he consider'd what he'd lately felt, None reason'd thus—and some, on hearing cries, And his vile blows with selfish pity dealt. Said calmly, “ Grimes is at his exercise.”
One day such draughts the cruel fisher made, Pinn'd, beaten, cold, pinch'd, threaten'd, and He could not vend them in his Borough-trade, abus'd
But sail'd for London-mart: the boy was ill, His efforts punish'd and his food refus'd,
But ever humbled to his master's will; Awake tormented,-soon arous'd from sleep, And on the river, where they smoothly sail'd
, Struck if he wept, and yet compellid to weep,- He strove with terror and awhile prerail'd; The trembling boy dropp'd down and strove to pray, But new to danger on the angry sea,
Be Receiv'd a blow, and trembling turn’d away, He clung affrighten’d to his master's knee: Or sobb’d and hid his piteous face;—while he,
The boat grew leaky and the wind was strong, The savage master, grinn'd in horrid glee:
Rough was the passage and the time was long; He'd now the power he ever lov'd to show,
His liquor fail'd, and Peter's wrath aroše,A feeling being subject to his blow.
No more is known-the rest we must suppose, Thus liv'd the lad, in hunger, peril, pain, Or learn of Peter;—Peter says, he " spied His tears despis’d, his supplications vain :
The stripling's danger and for harbour tried; Compell’d by fear to lie, by need to steal,
Meantime the fish, and then th’apprentice died." His bed uneasy and unblest his meal,
The pitying women rais'd a clamour round, For three sad years the boy his tortures bore, And weeping said, “ Thou hast thy 'prentice And then his pains and trials were no more.
drown'd.” * How died he, Peter?' when the people said, Now the stern man was summond to the ball, He growl'd—“ I found him lifeless in his bed;"
To tell his tale before the burghers all
: Then tried for softer tone, and sigh'd,“ Poor Sam He gave th' account; profess'd the lad he lor'd, is dead."
[ask'd, And kept his brazen features all unmovid. Yet murmurs were there, and some questions
The mayor himself with tone severe replied.How he was fed, how punish'd, and how task'd ? “ Henceforth with thee shall never boy abide; Much they suspected, but they little prov'd, Hire thee a freeman, whom thou dust not betin And Peter pass'd untroubled and unmov'd. Another boy with equal ease was found,
But who, in thy despite, will sleep and eat:
Free thou art now!-again should’st thou appears The money granted and the victim bound; And what his fate !-One night it chanc'd he fell
Thou 'lt find thy sentence, like thy soul, severe."
Alas! for Peter not a helping hand, From the boat's mast and perish'd in her well,
So was he hated, could he now command; Where fish were living kept, and where the boy
Alone he row'd his boat, alone he cast (So reason'd men) could not himself destroy:
His nets beside, or made his anchor fast ; “Yes! so it was," said Peter, “in his play, (For he was idle both by night and day,)
To hold a rope or hear a curse was none, He climb’d the main-mast and then fell below;"
He toil'd and rail'd; he groan'd and swore alone.
Thus by himself compell’d to live each day,
The bounding marsh-bank and the blighted tree; So they dismiss'd him, saying at the time, [climb.'
The water only, when the tides were high, • Keep fast your hatchway when you've boys who
When low, the mud half cover'd and half dry; This hit the conscience, and he colour'd more
The sun-burnt tar that blisters on the planks,
And bank side stakes in their uneven ranks;
Heaps of entangled weeds that slowly float,
When tides were neap, and, in the sultry day,
At certain stations he would view the stream, Through the tall bounding mud-banks made their As if he stood bewilder'd in a dream, Which on each side rose swelling, and below (way, Or that some power bad chain'd him for a time, The dark warm flood ran silently and slow;
To feel a curse or meditate on crime. There anchoring, Peter chose from man to hide, This known, some curious, some in pity went, There hang his head, and view the lazy tide And others question'd—“Wretch,dost thou repent?” In its hot slimy channel slowly glide;
He heard, he trembled, and in fear resign'd Where the small eels that left the deeper way His boat: new terror fill'd his restless mind; For the warm shore, within the shallows play; Furious he grew, and up the country ran, Where gaping muscles, left upon the mud,
And there they seiz'd him-a distemper'd man:Slope their slow passage to the fallen flood;— Him we receiv'd, and to a parish bed, Here dull and hopeless he'd lie down and trace, Follow'd and curs'd, the groaning man was led. How sidelong crabs had scrawl’d their crooked race; Here when they saw him, whom they us’d to shun, Or sadly listen to the tuneless cry
A lost, lone man, so harass'd and undone; Of fishing gull, or clanging golden-eye;
Our gentle females, ever prompt to feel, What time the sea-birds to the marsh would come, Perceiv'd compassion on their anger steal; And the loud bittern, from the bulrush home, His crimes they could not from their memories blot, Gave from the salt ditch side the bellowing boom: But they were griev'd, and trembled at his lot. He nurs'd the feelings these dull scenes produce, A priest too came, to whom his words are told; And lov’d to stop beside the opening sluice; And all the signs they shudder'd to behold. Where the small stream, confin'd in narrow bound, “ Look! look !" they cried; “his limbs with Ran with a dull, unvaried, sadd'ning sound;
horror shake, Where all, presented to the eye or ear,
And as he grinds his teeth, what noise they make! Oppress'd the soul with misery, grief, and fear. How glare his angry eyes, and yet he's not awake:
Beside these objects, there were places three, See! what cold drops upon his forehead stand, Which Peter seem'd with certain dread to see; And how he clenches that broad bony hand.” When he drew near them he would turn from each, The priest attending, found he spoke at times And loudly whistle till he pass'd the reach.
As one alluding to his fears and crimes: A change of scene to him brought no relief, “ It was the fall,” he mutter'd, “ I can show In town, 'twas plain, men took hiin for a thief: The manner how I never struck a blow:"The sailors' wives would stop him in the street, And then aloud_“ Unhand me, free my chain; And say, "Now, Peter, thou 'st no boy to beat:” On oath, he fell-it struck him to the brain :Infants at play, when they perceiv'd him, ran, Why ask my father ?—that old man will swear Warning each other—" That's the wicked man.”
Against my life ; besides, he wasn't there:He growld an oath, and in an angry tone
What, all agreed ?-Am I to die to-day?Curs'd the whole place and wish'd to be alone. My lord, in mercy, give me time to pray.”
Alone he was, the same dull scenes in view, Then as they watch'd him, calmer he became, And still more gloomy in his sight they grew: And grew so weak he couldn't move his frame, Though man he hated, yet employ'd alone
But murmuring spake,—while they could see and At bootless labour, he would swear and groan, The start of terror and the groan of fear; [hear Cursing the shoals that glided by the spot,
See the large dew-beads on his forehead rise, And gulls that caught them when his arts could not. And the cold death-drop glaze his sunken eyes;
Cold pervous tremblings shook his sturdy frame, Nor yet he died, but with unwonted force And strange disease—he couldn't say the name; Seem'd with some fancied being to discourse : Wild were his dreams, and oft he rose in fright, He knew not us, or with accustom'd art Wak'd by his view of horrors in the night,- He hid the knowledge, yet expos'd his heart; Horrors that would the sternest minds amaze, 'Twas part confession and the rest defence, Horrors that demons might be proud to raise: A madman's tale, with gleams of waking sense. And though he felt forsaken, grier'd at heart, “ I'll tell you all,” he said, " the very day To think he liv'd from all mankind apart;
When the old man first plac'd them in my way: Yet, if a man approach'd, in terrors he would start. My father's spirit-he who always tried
A winter pass'd since Peter saw the town, To give me trouble, when he liv'd and diedAnd summer lodgers were again cone down; When he was gone, he could not be content These, idly curious, with their glasses spied To see my days in painful labour spent, The ships in bay as anchor’d for the tide,
But would appoint his meetings, and he made The river's craft,—the bustle of the quay,— Me watch at these, and so neglect my trade. And sea-port views, which landmen love to see. “ 'Twas one hot noon, all silent, still, serene, One, up the river, had a man and boat
No living being had I lately seen; Seen day by day, now anchor'd, now afloat; I paddled up and down and dipp'd my net, Fisher he seem'd, yet us'd no net nor hook; But (such his pleasure) I could nothing get,Of sea-fowl swimming by, no heed he took, A father's pleasure, when his toil was done, But on the gliding waves still fix'd his lazy look: To plague and torture thus an only son!
And no es He gave sad shrae
Rejecti “ Batuha
And so I sat and look'd upon the stream,
Of tortur'd guilt-no earthly tongue can speak: How it ran on, and felt as in a dream:
All days alike! for ever!' did they say,
And unremitted torments every day'-
On all around, affrighten'd and amaz’d;
And still he tried to speak, and look'd in dread
Of frightend females gathering round his bed;
· Again they come," and mutter'd as he died.
Genius! thou gift of Heav'n! thou light divine! They bade me leap to death, but I was loth to die:
Amid what dangers art thou doom'd to shine!
Oft will the body's weakness check thy force,
Or want (sad guest!) will in thy presence come,
And make her sufferings, her impatience, thine. “ Fathers should pity-but this old man shook Evil and strong, seducing passions prey His hoary locks, and froze me by a look:
On soaring minds, and win them from their way; Thrice, when I struck them, through the water came Who then to vice the subject spirits give, A hollow groan, that weaken'd all my frame: And in the service of the conqu’ror live; • Father!' said I, . have mercy:'-He replied, Like captive Samson making sport for all, I know not what the angry spirit lied,- (true, Who fear'd their strength, and glory in their fall. • Didst thou not draw thy knise?' said he :—'Twas Genius, with virtue, still may lack the aid But I had pity and my arm withdrew:
Implored by humble minds and hearts afraid; He cried for mercy, which I kindly gave,
May leave to timid souls the shield and sword But he has no compassion in his grave.
Of the tried faith, and the resistless word; “ There were three places, where they ever rose, Amid a world of dangers venturing forth, The whole long river has not such as those,
Frail, but yet fearless, proud in conscious worth,
Till strong temptation, in some fatal time,
The nobler powers that once exalted high
Th’aspiring man, shall then degraded lie:
Reason, through anguish. shall her throne forsake, « In one fierce summer-day, when my poor brain
And strength of mind but stronger madness make.
When Edward Shore had reach'd his twentieth
He felt his bosom light, his conscience clear; [year,
Applause at school the youthful hero gain'd, There was more mischief in their eyes, more glee
And trials there with manly strength sustain'd: In their pale faces when they glar'd at me:
With prospects bright upon the world he came, Still did they force me on the oar to rest,
Pure love of virtue, strong desire of fame: And when they saw me fainting and oppress’d,
Men watch'd the way his lofty mind would take, He, with his hand, the old man, scoop'd the flood,
And all foretold the progress he would make. And there came flame about him mix'd with blood;
Boast of these friends, to older men a guide, He bade me stoop and look upon the place,
Proud of his parts, but gracious in his pride; Then flung the hot-red liquor in my face;
He bore a gay good-nature in his face, Burning it blaz'd, and then I roar’d for pain,
And in his air were dignity and grace; I thought the demons would have turn'd my brain.
Dress that became his state and years he wore, “Still there they stood, and forc'd me to behold
And sense and spirit shone in Edward Shore. A place of horrors-they cannot be told
Thus while admiring friends the youth beheld,
His own disgust their forward hopes repell’d;