He spake of fiends; look'd wild and Then let us keep our bosoms pure, wan; Year after year, the hurried man Obey'd those fiends from place to place; Till his religious change began To form a frenzied child of grace. Our fancy's favourite flights suppress; Prepare the body to endure, And bend the mind to meet distress; And then HIS guardian care implore, Whom demons dread and men adore. NOTES TO 'SIR EUSTACE GREY' Note 1, page 90, line 46. Note 2, page 90, line 73. Note 3, page 92, line 40. It has been suggested to me, that this change from restlessness to repose, in the mind of Sir Eustace, is wrought by a Methodistic call; and it is admitted to be such a sober and rational conversion could not have happened while the disorder of the brain continued yet the verses which follow, in a different measure, are not intended to make any religious persuasion appear ridiculous; they are to be supposed as the effect of memory in the disordered mind of the speaker, and, though evidently enthusiastic in respect to language, are not meant to convey any impropriety of sentiment. THE HALL OF JUSTICE [1807] IN TWO PARTS PART I Confiteor facere hoc annos; sed et altera causa est, Anxietas animi, continuusque dolor. MAGISTRATE, VAGRANT, CONSTABLE, &C. VAGRANT TAKE, take away thy barbarous hand, And let me to thy master speak; Remit awhile the harsh command, And hear me, or my heart will break. MAGISTRATE Fond wretch! and what canst thou relate, But deeds of sorrow, shame, and sin? Thy crime is proved, thou know'st thy fate; But come, thy tale !-begin, begin! VAGRANT My crime!- -This sick'ning child to feed, But yielded to a stronger law. Know'st thou, to Nature's great command In this, th' adopted babe I hold With anxious fondness to my breast, My heart's sole comfort I behold, More dear than life, when life was bless'd; I saw her pining, fainting, cold, I begg'd-but vain was my request. I saw the tempting food, and seizedMy infant-sufferer found relief; And, in the pilfer'd treasure pleased, Smiled on my guilt, and hush'd my grief. But I have griefs of other kind, Troubles and sorrows more severe; Give me to ease my tortured mind, Lend to my woes a patient ear; And let me if I may not find A friend to help-find one to hear. Yet nameless let me plead-my name Would only wake the cry of scorn; A child of sin, conceived in shame, Brought forth in wo, to misery born. My mother dead, my father lost, I wander'd with a vagrant crew; A common care, a common cost, Their sorrows and their sins I knew ; With them, by want on error forced, Like them, I base and guilty grew. Few are my years, not so my crimes; And I am old in shame and care. Taught to believe the world a place Where every stranger was a foe, Train'd in the art that marks our race, To what new people could I go? Could I a better life embrace, Or live as virtue dictates? No! So through the land I wandering went, A sturdy youth he was and tall, His looks would all his soul declare; His piercing eyes were deep and small, And strongly curl'd his raven-hair. Yes, Aaron had each manly charm, Oft, when they grew in anger warm, His father was our party's chief, And dark and dreadful was his look; His presence fill'd my heart with grief, Although to me he kindly spoke. With Aaron I delighted went, His favour was my bliss and pride; In growing hope our days we spent, Love growing charms in either spied, It saw them, all which Nature lent, It lent them, all which she denied. Could I the father's kindness prize, Or grateful looks on him bestow, Whom I beheld in wrath arise, When Aaron sunk beneath his blow? He drove him down with wicked hand, And told his cruel love to me ;The clan were all at his command, Whatever his command might be. The night was dark, the lanes were deep, Accursed be the love he bore, Accursed was the force he used, You frown again,-to show my wrong, MAGISTRATE I hear thy words, I feel thy pain; For, though seduced and led astray, But I was forced to feign delight, And left a mind to madness wrought.) A chilling terror stopp'd my breath.- For there my father-husband stood,- I trembled at the dismal sounds, But vainly strove a word to say; His father's child, in Aaron's bed; He took her from me in his wrath, 'Where is my child?'-' Thy child is dead.' 'Twas false-we wander'd far and wide, Through town and country, field and fen, Till Aaron, fighting, fell and died, And I became a wife again. I then was young :-my husband sold The slave, but not the friend of vice :Behold me, Heaven! my pains behold, And let them for my sins suffice! The wretch who lent me thus for gain, Despised me when my youth was fled; Then came disease, and brought me pain :Come, death, and bear me to the dead! For though I grieve, my grief is vain, And fruitless all the tears I shed. True, I was not to virtue train'd, Yet well I knew my deeds were ill; By each offence my heart was pain'd, I wept, but I offended still; My better thoughts my life disdain'd, But yet the viler led my will. 1 The state of mind here described will account for a vision of this nature, without having recourse to any supernatural appearance. My husband died, and now no more Beneath a vagrant's vile command. Ceaseless I roved the country round, Though poor, and abject, and despised, I gave the young the love they prized, And promised wealth to bless the old ; Schemes for the doubtful I devised, And charms for the forsaken sold. At length for arts like these confined I soon perceived a kindred mind, And there my long-lost daughter knew: His father's child, whom Aaron gave To wander with a distant clan, The miseries of the world to brave, And be the slave of vice and man. She knew my name-we met in pain, Our parting pangs can I express? She sail'd a convict o'er the main, And left an heir to her distress. This is that heir to shame and pain, Yet, could I bear to see her die, No! though the fate thy mother knew race Have wander❜d all, a lawless crew, Outcasts, despised in every place; Yet as the dark and muddy tide, When far from its polluted source, Becomes more pure, and, purified, Flows in a clear and happy course In thee, dear infant! so may end Our shame, in thee our sorrows cease! And thy pure course will then extend, In floods of joy, o'er vales of peace. MR. LEDYARD, AS QUOTED BY M. PARKE IN 'What though so pale his haggard face, So sunk and sad his looks,'--she cries; We see him lost, alone, afraid; 'Perhaps in some far-distant shore, There are who in these forms delight; Whose milky features please them more, Than ours of jet thus burnish'd bright; Of such may be his weeping wife, Such children for their sire may call, And if we spare his ebbing life, Our kindness may preserve them all.' Thus her compassion Woman shows, Beneath the line her acts are these; Nor the wide waste of Lapland-snows Can her warm flow of pity freeze : |