« AnteriorContinuar »
He shew'd a softer feeling in his eye, Or are these feelings varied ? has the knight, And watch'd my looks, and own'd the sym- Virtue's own champion, now refused to fight?
Is the deliverer turn’d th' oppressor now? 'Twas now the calm of wearied pride; so long Has the reformer dropt the dangerous vow ? As he had strength was his resentment strong, Or has the patriot's bosom lost its heat, But in such place, with strangers all around, And forced him, shivering, to a snug retreat? And they such strangers, to have something Is such the grievous lapse of human pride?
Is such the victory of the worth untried ? Allied to his own heart, an early friend, One, only one, who would on him attend, To give and take a look! at this his jour- Here will I pause, and then review the shame
Of Harry Bland, to hear his parent's nanie; One link, however slender, of the chain That mild, that modest boy, whom well we That held him where he could not long
In him long time the secret sorrow grew; The one sole interest!—No, he could not now He wept alone; then to his friend confess'd Retain his anger; Nature knew not how; The grievous fears that his pure mind And so there came a softness to his mind,
oppress'd; And he forgave the usage of mankind. And thus, when terror o'er his shame obtain'd His cold long fingers now were pressłd to A painful conquest, he his case explain’d:
And first his favourite question'd-Willie, And his faint smile of kinder thoughts gave
Do all the wicked people go to Hell? His lips moved often as he tried to lend Willie with caution answer'd: Yes, they do, His words their sound; and softly whisperd Or else repent; but what is this to you?
0! yes, dear friend : he then his tale beganNot without comfort in the thought express'd He fear'd his father was a wicked man, By that calm look with which he sank to rest. Nor had repented of his naughty life;
The wife he had indeed was not a wife,
Call her a name—I'll whisper what they call. The man, said George, you see, through She saw me weep, and ask'à, in high disdain,
If tears could bring my mother back again? The boy's defects; his virtues too remain'd. This I could bear, but not when she pretends Bat where are now those minds 60 light Such fond regard, and what I speak com
mends; So forced on study, so intent on play, Talks of my learning, fawning wretch! and Swept, by the world's rude blasts, from hope's
tries dear views away? To make me love her,- love! when I despise. Some grieved for long neglect in earlier times, Indeed I had it in my heart to say Some sad from frailties, some lamenting Words of reproach, before I came away;
And then my father's look is not the same, Thinking, with sorrow, on the season lent He puts his anger on to hide his shame. For noble purpose, and in trifling spent; And now, at last, when they in earnest view The nothings done—what work they find With all these feelings delicate and nice,
This dread of infamy, this scorn of vice, Where is that virtne that the generous boy He left the school, accepting, though with Felt, and resolved that nothing should
His father's aid-but there would not reside; He who with noble indignation glow'd He married then a lovely maid, approved When vice had triumph? who his tear Of every heart as worthy to be loved;
Mild as the morn in summer, firm as truth, On injured merit? he who would possess
And graced with wisdom in the bloom of Power, but to aid the children of distress!
youth. Who has such joy in generous actions shown, And so sincere, they might be call’d his own; knight, hero, patriot, martyr! on whose How is it, men, when they in judgment sit
On the same fault, now censure, now acquit? And potent arm, a nation's welfare hung; Is it not thus, that here we view the sin, He who to public misery bronght relief, And there the powerful cause that drew us in ? And sooth d the anguish of domestic grief. 'Tis not that men are to the evil blind, Where now this virtue's fervour, spirit, zeal ? But that a different object fills the mind. Who felt so warmly, has he ceased to feel? In judging others we can see too well The boy's emotions of that noble kind, Their grievous fall, but not how grieved Ah! sure th'experienced man has not resign'd;
Judging ourselves, we to our minds recall, These pictures, as I heard our artists say, Not how we fell, but how we grieved to fall. Are genuine all, and I believe they may; Or could this man, so vex'd in early time, They cost the genuine sums, and I should By this strong feeling for his father's crime,
grieve Who to the parent's sin was barely just, If, being willing, I could not believe. And mix'd with filial fear the man's disgust; And there is music; when the ladies come, Could hc, without some strong delusion, quit With their keen looks they scrutinize the The path of duty, and to shame submit? Cast off the virtue he so highly prized, To see what pleases, and I must expect And be the very creature he despised ? To yield them pleasure, or to find neglect:
For, as attractions from our person fly,
Our purses, Richard, must the want supply; A tenant's wife, half forward, half afraid, Yet would it vex me could the triflers know Features, it seemd, of powerful cast display'd, That they can shut out comfort or bestow. That bore down faith and duty; common
fame Speaks of a contract that augments the But see this room: here, Richard, you will shame.
find There goes he, not unseen, so strong the will, Books for all palates, food for every mind; And blind the wish, that bear him to the mill; This readers term the ever-new delight, There he degraded sits, and strives to please And so it is, if minds have appetite: The miller's children, langhing at his knees; Mine once was craving; great my joy, indeed, And little Dorcas, now familiar grown, Had I possess'd such food when I could feed; Talks of her rich papa, and of her own. When at the call of every new-born wish He woos the mother's now precarious smile I could have keenly relish'd every dishBy costly gifts, that tempers reconcile; Now, Richard, now, I stalk around and look While the rough husband, yielding to the pay Upon the dress and title of a book, That buys his absence, growling stalks Try half a page, and then can taste no more,
But the dull volume to its place restore ; "Tis said th' offending man will sometimes Begin a second slowly to peruse,
Then cast it by, and look about for news; And say, "My God, in what a dream am I? The news itself grows dull in long debates,I will awake:' but, as the day proceeds, I skip, and see what the conclusion stater; The weaken'd mind the day's indulgence And many a speech, with zeal and study made
Cold and resisting spirits to persuade, Hating himself at every step he takes, Is lost on mine; alone, we cease to feel His mind approves the virtue he forsakes, What crowds admire, and wonder at their And yet forsakes her. 0! how sharp the pain,
zeal. Our vice, ourselves, our habits to disdain; To go where never yet in peace we went, But how the day? No fairer will it be? To feel our hearts can bleed, yet not relent; Walk you? Alas! 'tis requisite for meTo sigh, yet not recede; to grieve, yet not Nay, let me not prescribe-my friends and repent!
guests are free.
It was a fair and mild autumnal sky,
As a rich beauty, when her bloom is lost,
Appears with more magnificence and cost: ADVENTURES OF RICHARD. The wct and heavy grass, where feet had
stray'd, Eight days had past! the Brothers now could Not yet erect, the wanderer's way betray'd;
Showers of the night had swell’d the deepWith ease, and take the customary seat.
’ning rill, These-said the host, for he perceived where Themorning-breeze had urged the quick’ning stray'a
mill; His brother's eye, and what he now survey'd; Assembled rooks had wing'd their sea-ward These are the costly trifles that we buy,
flight, Urged by the strong demands of vanity, By the same passage to return at night, The thirst and hunger of a mind diseased, While proudly o'er them hung the steady That must with purchased flattery be
Then turned him back, and left the noisy But yet, 'tis truc, the things that you behold
throng, Serve to amuse us as we're getting old: Nor deign'd to know them as he sail'd along. Long yellow leaves, from oziers, strew'd (Yet reason here, said Richard, joins with around,
pride :Choked the small stream, and hush'd the I did not ask th' alliance, George replied
feeble sound; I grant it true, such trifle may induce While the dead foliage dropt from loftier A dull, proud man to wake and be of use;
And there are purer pleasures, that a mind Our Squire beheld not with his wonted ease, Calm and uninjured may in villas find ; But to his own reflections made reply, But where th' affections have been deeply And said aloud : Yes! doubtless we must die.
tried, With other food that mind must be supplied :
'Tis not in trees or medals to impart We must; said Richard, and we would not The powerful medicine for an aching heart;
The agitation dies, but there is still To feel what dotage and decay will give;
The backward spirit, the resisting will. But we yet taste whatever we behold,
Man takes his body to a country-seat, The morn is lovely, though the air is cold: But minds, dear Richard, have their own There is delicious quiet in this scene,
retreat; At once so rich, so varied, so serene;
Oft when the feet are pacing o'er the green Sounds too delight 118,-cach discordant tone The mind is gone where never grass was Thus mingled please, that fail to please alone;
seen, This hollow wind, this rustling of the brook, And never thinks of hill, or vale, or plain, The farm-yard noise, the woodman at yon Till want of rest creates a sense of pain,
That calls that wandering mind, and brings See, the axe falls !-now listen to the stroke!
it home again. That gun itself, that murders all this peace, No more of farms: but here I boast of minds Adds to the charm, because it soon must That make a friend the richer when he finds;
These shalt thou see ;-but, Richard, be it
Who thinks to see must in his turn be No doubt, said George, the country has its
But now farewell! to thee will I resign My farm behold! the model for all farms ! Woods, walks, and valleys! take them till Look at that land-you find not there a weed,
we dine. We grub the roots, and suffer none to seed. Ta land like this no botanist will come, To seek the precious warc he hides at home; Preasing the leaves and flowers with effort The Brothers dined, and with that plenteous nice,
fare As if they came from herbs in Paradise ; That seldom fails to dissipate our care, Let them their favourites with my neigh- At least the lighter kind; and oft prevails
When reason, duty, nay, when kindness fails. They have no—what?-no habitat with me. Yet food and wine, and all that mortals bless, Now see my flock, and hear its glory ;-none Lead them to think of peril and distress; Have that vast body and that slender bone; Cold, hunger, danger, solitude, and pain, They are the village-boast,the dealer's theme, That men in life's adventurous ways sustain. Fleece of such staple! flesh in such esteem!
Thou hast sail'd far, dear Brother, said the Brother, said Richard, do I hear aright?
SquireDoes the land truly give so much delight? Permit me of these unknown lands t'inquire,
Lands never tillid, where thou hast wonder
ing been, So mys my bailiff: sometimes I have tried And all the marvels thou hast heard and seen: Ta cateh the joy, but nature has denied ; Do tell me something of the miseries felt It will not be the mind has had a store In climes where travellers freeze, and where Laid up for life, and will admit no more:
they melt; Worn ont in trials, and about to die, And be not nice,-we know 'tis not in men, In vain to these we for amusement fly; Who travel far, to hold a steady pen: We farm, we garden, we our poor employ, Some will, 'tis true, a bolder freedom take, And much command, though little we enjoy; And keep our wonder always wide awake; Or, if ambitions, we employ our pen, We know of those whose dangers far exceed We plant a desert, or we drain a fen; Our frail belief, that trembles as we read; And-here, behold my medal!—this will such as in deserts burn, and thirst, and die,
Save a last gasp that they recover by: What men may merit when they nothing Then, too, their hazard from a tyrant's arms,
A tiger's fury, or a lady's charms;
Beside th' accumnlated evils borne
For, in an instant, as the stern sank low, From the bold outset to the safe return. (How moved I knew not-What can madness These men abuse; but thou hast fair pretence
know?) To modest dealing, and to mild good sense; Chance that direction to my motion gave, Then let me hear thy struggles and escapes And plunged me headlong in the roaring In the far lands of crocodiles and apes:
wave: Say, hast thou, Bruce-like, knelt upon the bed Swift flew the parting ship,- the fainter Where the young Nile uplifts his branchy
Withdrew, -or horror took them from my Or been partaker of th' unhallow'd feast,
sight. Where beast-like man devours his fellow
beast, And churn'd the bleeding life? while each All sounds of terror; no distinguish'd sound
All was confused above, beneath, around; great dame
Could reach me, now on sweeping surges tost, And sovereign beauty bade adieu to shame? Or did the storm, that thy wreck'd pinnace An undefined sensation stopt my breath ;
And then between the rising billows lost; bore,
Disorder'd views and threat'ning signs of Impel thee gasping on some unknown shore;
death Where, when thy beard and nails were Met in one moment, and a terror gave
savage grown, Some swarthy princess took thee for her own, My thoughts were all distressing, hurried,
I cannot paint it-to the moving grave. Some danger-dreading Yarico, who, kind,
mix'd, Sent thee away, and, prudent, staid behind ?
On all things fixing, not a moment fix'd: Come-I am ready wonders to receive,
Vague thoughts of instant danger brought Prone to assent, and willing to believe.
their pain, New hopes of safety banish'd them again;
Then the swoln billow all these hopes Richard replied : It must be known to you,
destroy'd, That tales improbable may yet be true; And left me sinking in the mighty void: And yet it is a foolish thing to tell
Weaker I grew, and grew the more dismay'd, A tale that shall be judged improbable; Of aid all hopeless, yet in search of aid ; While some impossibilities appear
Struggling awhile upon the wave to keep,
The ship now lost, and bade the light adieu !
Cold seized my heart, thought ceased, and When first I tried the sea, I took a trip,
I was dead. But duty none, in a relation's ship; Thus, unengaged, I felt my spirits light, Kept care at distance, and put fear to Hight; Brother, I have not,--man has not the power Oft this same spirit in my friends prevaild, To paint the horrors of that life-long hour; Buoyant in dangers, rising when assail'd;
Hour!-but of time I knew not-when I When, as the gale at evening died away,
found And die it will with the retiring day,
Hope, youth, life, love, and all they proImpatient then, and sick of very ease,
mised, drown'd; We loudly whistled for the slumbering When all so indistinct, so undefined,
So dark and dreadful, overcame the mind;
That, feeling much, it knew not what it felt.
That night of terror? No! it threatens yet. A trifling something from the ship astern; Shall I days, months—nay, years, indeed The stiffening gale bore up the growing
Who then could feel what moments must And wilder motion to my madness gave:
effect Oft have I since, when thoughtful and at Were anght effected? who, in that wild storm,
Found there was nothing I could well perform; Believed some maddening power my mind For what to us are moments, what are hours,
Iflost our judgment,and confused our powers?
Oft in the times when passion strives to reign, | Attentive listening in the moving scene, When duty feebly holds the slacken'd chain, And often wondering what the men could When reason slumbers, then remembrance
When ships at sea made signals of their need, This view of death, and folly makes a panse- I watch'd on shore the sailors, and their speed: The view o'ercomes the vice, the fear the Mix'd in their act, nor rested till knew
frenzy awes. Why they were callid, and what they were I know there wants not this to make it true,
to do. What danger bids be done, in safety do; Whatever business in the port was done, Yet such escapes may make our purpose sure, I, without call, was with the busy one; Who slights such warning may be too secure. Not daring question, but with open ear
And greedy spirit, ever bent to hear.
To me the wives of seamen loved to tell . But the escape!'- Whate'er they judged What storms endanger'd men esteem'd so well;
might save What wond'rous things in foreign parts they Theirsinking friend they cast upon the wave;
saw, Something of these my heaven-directed arm Lands without bounds, and people without [nconscious seized, and held as by a charm:
law. The crew astern beheld me as I swam, No ships were wreck'd upon that fatal beach, And I am saved_0! let me say I am. But I could give the luckless tale of each ;
Eager I look’d, till I beheld a face
Of one disposed to paint their dismal case; Brother, said George, I have neglected long Who gave the sad survivors' doleful tale, To think of all thy perils:-it was wrong;
From the first brushing of the mighty gale But do forgive me; for I could not be
Until they struck; and, suffering in their fate, Than of myself more negligent of thee. I long’d the more they should its horrors state; Now tell me, Richard, from the boyish years. While some, the fond of pity, would enjoy Of thy young mind, that now so rich appears, The earnest sorrows of the feeling boy. llow was it stored? 'twas told me, thou I sought the men return'd from regions cold,
The frozen straits, where icy mountains rollid; A truant urchin,-a neglected child.
Some I could win to tell me serious tales I heard of this escape, and sat supine
Of boats uplifted by enormous whales, Amid the danger that exceeded thine;
Or, when harpoon'd, how swiftly through the Thou couldst but die-the waves could but
The wounded monsters with the cordage flee; Thy warm gay heart, and make that bosom Yet some uneasy thoughts assaild me then,
The monsters warr’d not with, nor wounded While I- but no! Proceed, and give me
The smaller fry we take, with scales and fins, How past the years of thy unguided youth? Who gasp and die—this adds not to our sins; Thy father left thee to the care of one
But so much blood! warm life, and frames Whocould not teach, could ill support a son;
60 large Fet time and trouble feeble minds have stay'd, To strike, to murder -- seem'd an heavy And fit for long-neglected duties made:
charge. I see thee struggling in the world, as late
They told of days, where many go to oneWithin the waves, and with an equal fate, Such days as ours; and how a larger sun, By Heaven preserved—but tell me, whence Red, but not flaming, roll’d, with motion slow,
On the world's edge, and never dropt below. Thy gleaning came? – a dexterous gleaner There were fond girls, who took me to their thou!
side To tell the story how their lovers died;
They praised my tender heart, and bade me Left by that father, who was known to few,
prove And to that mother, who has not her due Both kind and constant when I came to love. Of honest fame,- said Richard-our retreat In fact, I lived for many an idle year Was a small cottage, for our station meet, In fond pursuit of agitations dear; OnBarford Downs: that mother, fondand poor, For ever seeking, ever pleased to find, There taught some truths, and bade me The food I loved, I thought not of its kind;
seek for more,
It gave affliction while it brought delight,