Collected Poetical Works of Mary Robinson
Page 40
O barbarous Pride! which NATURE cannot move;
Shall her poor offspring ever plead in vain?
Shall they, unown’d by guilty greatness, rove;
Or, lost in ignorance, unblest remain,
Like a wild with’ring tree plac’d on a desert plain?
23.
And now his fev’rish brain began to burn,
While Mem’ry conjur’d up each hour to view
Which, erst so tranquil, never could return
Ah, MEMORY! sad thy visions are, and true!
When dark Despair a gloomy picture drew;
While Fancy madden’d on the varied scene:
And now the clouds resum’d a cheerful hue;
Yet, while he watch’d the rays of light between,
On all the earth there breath’d no wretch so lorn, I ween.
24.
O’er hill and dale the friendless foster‐child,
With weary footsteps, bent his lonely way:
And now he hasten’d o’er the thorny wild;
Now by the rippling brook would musing stay;
Or dream, on flow’ry banks, of visions gay:
Then, starting wild, his pilgrimage pursue,
Not knowing whither he was doom’d to stray,
While his wan cheek was sprent with chilling dew,
Or fierce the angry storm athwart his bosom flew.
25.
At length gaunt Poverty, of sallow hue,
And cold Neglect, with all their rueful train,
About his heart their with’ring mischiefs threw;
And sorely was he pinch’d with bitter pain:
Yet proud was he, and fraught with high disdain,
Tho’ many a day he fasted sad and lone;
And all night long across the dismal plain
He pour’d, amid the blast, his rending groan,
While the faint glimm’ring stars in chilling lustre shone:
26.
And many a burning day, and freezing night,
The little trav’ller on his journey bent;
And often, by the moon‐beam’s quiv’ring light,
He watch’d his shadow length’ning as he went,
And, so companion’d, seem’d awhile content:
Yet when, perchance, he met a lady gay,
With sudden pangs his feeling heart was rent;
For then remembrance shew’d the rich array
Which (so the tale was told) bedeck’d his natal day.
27.
It so befel that, on a summer’s eve,
A stately mansion met his tearful eyes:
And suddenly his soul forgot to grieve;
And straight a beauteous lady he espies:
With unknown hopes his heavy heart did rise,
For on her cheek a gentle smile was seen;
And now she mark’d his form with fond surprise!
For, by his father’s smile, his father’s mien,
Her own wrong’d baby‐boy she knew full well, I ween.
28.
’Twas INSTINCT rushing thro’ her beating breast!
Instinct, the lamp divine that lights the soul;
For many a night, depriv’d of balmy rest,
Her fev’rish eye‐balls had been taught to roll:
Oh! what can conscious agony control?
And, when she ponder’d on the foaming tide,
From her shrunk heart Hope’s soothing visions stole;
And sick’ning was the luxury of Pride,
While all the mother’s fears beat high against her side.
29.
Now the wide country ‘round with revels rung;
“The Stranger Boy” was sov’reign of the scene;
And there the minstrel play’d, the peasant sung,
And dancing circles dotted o’er the green;
Such rural merriment had ne’er been seen:
The soft harp echo’d down the woody dell;
And, sporting gay, the sombre shades between,
The wild goat wanton’d; while afar the swell
On the light breeze was borne, of many a distant bell.
30.
But who can paint the mother’s silent joy?
Who measure the full transport of her soul?
While on the smiling cheek of her lost boy
Her tears repentant swiftly now ‘gan roll:
And woe to him who would their course control!
For ’twas the extract of the wounded heart,
Wafted to Heaven by sighs that NATURE stole
Sighs which more sacred rapture can impart
Than all the pomp of wealth, and all the smiles of art!
Oct. 22, 1800.
EDWIN AND ELLEN.
A STORY FOUNDED ON FACT.
HARD by the limpid Conway’s murm’ring stream
A cottage stood, by thickest trees surrounded;
The creeping vine, o’er lattic’d windows twining,
Gave a soft light, when low the sun declining
Shot o’er the distant hills his sinking beam.
This cot was all its owner’s watch and pride:
For in its bounds his sum of earthly blessings
Was all contain’d: kind Nature there bestowing
A being who, with artless beauty glowing,
Shone lovelier far than all her sex beside.
Her lip outvied the richest tints of art;
Her cheek the rose’s blush, the lily’s beauty:
Thro’ her black downcast lashes, softly stealing,
Her sparkling eyes reveal’d each inmost feeling:
And her pure form enshrin’d as pure a heart.
To EDWIN it had vow’d its earliest love
EDWIN, the tenant of this little cottage;
And he, on his lov’d ELLEN fondly smiling,
In her dear presence every care beguiling,
Enjoy’d that bliss true hearts alone can prove.
But, ah! let none deem earthly bliss secure!
One ev’ning, with his ELLEN, EDWIN straying,
Tasting the cool and balmy hour of leisure,
Was prest by villains from his bosom’s treasure,
And doom’d the keenest anguish to endure:
In vain did Ellen weep, entreat, implore;
The gang were dead to feeling, and to pity;
From her firm grasp the madd’ning Edwin tearing;
They dragged him wounded, dying, and despairing,
And from her last embrace their victim bore.
Oh! hapless Ellen, never will thy sight
Be blest again, with him it lov’d so dearly:
Never again, to those sad eyes returning,
Shall joy for thee awake its rosy morning,
Nor Edwin’s smiles inspire the soft delight.
In death’s cold arms his youthful graces sleep;
Nor can thy cries disturb his leaden slumbers:
O’er his pale form the whitening surge is rolling,
Where, to the sea‐gull’s scream, the winds are howling,
And o’er the shatter’d wreck the lightnings sweep.
Too soon did Ellen hear the fatal tale!
No more her breaking heart its woes sustaining,
She soon was laid within her last cold dwelling,
While, on the hollow breeze, the death‐bell, swelling,
In solemn cadence echo’d thro’ the vale.
Rest, gentle Fair! from this world’s cruel wrong:
In other climes ye now receive a blessing:
The village bards, ‘round your deserted dwelling,
Shall tune their harps, the tide of sorrow swelling,
And to your fate and virtues raise the song.
SUSAN.
THE LADY OF THE BLACK TOWER.
BY MRS. ROBINSON
“WATCH no more the twinkling stars;
Watch no more the chalky bourne;
Lady! from the Holy wars,
Never will thy Love
return!
Cease to watch, and cease to mourn,
Thy Lover never will return!
2.
“Watch no more the yellow moon,
Peering o’er the mountain’s head;
Rosy day, returning soon,
Will see thy Lover, pale and dead!
Cease to weep, and cease to mourn,
Thy Lover will no more return!
3.
“Lady, in the Holy wars,
Fighting for the Cross, he died;
Low he lies, and many scars
Mark his cold and mangled side;
In his winding‐sheet he lies,
Lady! check those rending sighs.
4.
“Hark! the hollow sounding gale
Seems to sweep in murmurs by,
Sinking slowly down the vale;
Wherefore, gentle Lady, sigh?
Wherefore moan, and wherefore sigh?
Lady! all that live must die.
5.
“Now the stars are fading fast:
Swift their brilliant course are run;
Soon shall dreary night be past:
Soon shall rise the cheering sun!
The sun will rise to gladden thee;
Lady, Lady, cheerful be.”
6.
So spake a voice! While sad, and lone,
Upon a lofty tower, reclin’d,
A Lady sat: the pale moon shone,
And sweetly blew the summer wind;
Yet still, disconsolate in mind,
The lovely Lady sat reclin’d.
7.
The lofty tow’r was ivy clad;
And round a dreary forest rose;
The midnight bell was tolling sad;
’Twas tolling for a soul’s repose!
The Lady heard the gates unclose,
And, from her seat, in terror, rose.
8.
The summer moon shone bright and clear;
She saw the castle gates unclose;
And now she saw four monks appear,
Loud chanting for a soul’s repose.
Forbear, oh, lady! look no more:
They pass’da livid corpse they bore.
9.
They pass’d, and all was silent now:
The breeze upon the forest slept;
The moon stole o’er the mountain’s brow;
Again the Lady sigh’d, and wept:
She watch’d the holy fathers go
Along the forest path below.
10.
And now the dawn was bright, the dew
Upon the yellow heath was seen;
The clouds were of a rosy hue,
The sunny lustre shone between:
The Lady to the chapel ran,
While the slow matin prayer began.
11.
And then, once more, the fathers grey
She mark’d, employ’d in holy prayer:
Her heart was full, she cou’d not pray,
For love and fear were masters there!
Ah, Lady! thou wilt pray ere long
To sleep those lonely aisles among!
12.
And now the matin prayers were o’er;
The barefoot monks, of order grey,
Were thronging to the chapel door,
When there the Lady stopp’d the way:
“Tell me,” she cried, “whose corpse, so pale,
“Last night ye bore along the vale?”
13.
“Oh Lady! question us no more:
“No corpse did we bear down the dale!”
The lady sunk upon the floor,
Her quivering lip was deathly pale!
The barefoot monks now whisper’d, sad,
“God grant our Lady be not mad.”
14.
The monks departing, one by one,
The chapel gates in silence close;
When from the altar steps, of stone,
The trembling lady feebly goes:
While the morning sheds a ruby light,
The painted windows glowing bright.
15.
And now she heard a hollow sound;
It seem’d to come from graves below;
And now again she look’d around,
A voice came murm’ring sad and slow;
And now she heard it feebly cry,
“Lady! all that live must die!
16.
“Watch no more from yonder tow’r,
“Watch no more the star of day!
“Watch no more the dawning hour,
“That chases sullen night away!
“Cease to watch, and cease to mourn,
“Thy lover will no more return!”
17.
She look’d around, and now she view’d,
Clad in a doublet gold and green,
A youthful knight: he frowning stood
And noble was his mournful mien;
And now he said, with heaving sigh
“Lady, all that live must die.”
18.
She rose to quit the altar’s stone,
She cast a look to heaven and sigh’d,
When lo! the youthful knight was gone;
And, scowling by the lady’s side,
With sightless skull and bony hand:
She saw a giant spectre stand!
19.
His flowing robe was long and clear,
His ribs were white, as drifted snow:
The Lady’s heart was chill’d with fear;
She rose, but scarce had power to go:
The spectre grinn’d a dreadful smile,
And walked beside her down the aisle.
20.
And now he wav’d his rattling hand;
And now they reached the chapel door,
And there the spectre took his stand;
While, rising from the marble floor,
A hollow voice was heard to cry,
“Lady, all that live must die.
21.
“Watch no more the evening star!
“Watch no more the glimpse of morn!
“Never from the Holy War
“Lady, will thy love return!
“See this bloody cross; and, see,
“His bloody scarf he sends to thee!”
22.
And now again the youthful knight
Stood smiling by the Lady’s side!
His helmet shone with crimson light,
His sword with drops of blood was dy’d:
And now a soft and mournful song
Stole the chapel aisles among.
23.
Now from the spectre’s paley cheek
The flesh began to waste away;
The vaulted doors were heard to creak,
And dark became the Summer day!
The spectre’s eyes were sunk, but he
Seem’d with their sockets still to see!
24.
The second bell is heard to ring:
Four barefoot monks, of orders grey,
Again their holy service sing;
And round the chapel altar pray:
The Lady counted o’er and o’er,
And shudder’d while she countedfour!
25.
“Oh! Fathers, who was he, so gay,
“That stood beside the chapel door?
“Oh! Tell me fathers, tell me pray.”
The monks replied, “We fathers four:
“Lady, no other have we seen,
“Since in this holy place we’ve been!”
PART SECOND.
1.
NOW the merry bugle horn
Thro’ the forest sounded far;
When on the lofty tow’r, forlorn,
The Lady watch’d the evening star;
The evening star that seem’d to be
Rising from the dark’ned sea!
2.
The Summer sea was dark and still,
The sky was streak’d with
lines of gold,
The mist rose grey above the hill,
And low the clouds of amber roll’d:
The Lady on the lofty tow’r
Watch’d the calm and silent hour.
3.
And, while she watch’d, she saw advance
A ship, with painted streamers gay:
She saw it on the green wave dance,
And plunge amid the silver spray;
While from the forest’s haunts, forlorn,
Again she heard the bugle‐horn:
4.
The sails were full; the breezes rose;
The billows curl’d along the shore;
And now the day began to close;
The bugle‐horn was heard no more,
But, rising from the wat’ry way,
An airy voice was heard to say:
5.
“Watch no more the evening star;
“Watch no more the billowy sea;
“Lady, from the Holy War
“Thy lover hastes to comfort thee:
“Lady, Lady, cease to mourn;
“Soon thy lover will return.”
6.
Now she hastens to the bay:
Now the rising storm she hears:
Now the sailors smiling say,
“Lady, Lady, check your fears:
“Trust us, Lady; we will be
“Your pilots o’er the stormy sea.”
7.
Now the little bark she view’d,
Moor’d beside the flinty steep;
And now, upon the foamy flood,
The tranquil breezes seem’d to sleep.
The moon arose; her silver ray
Seem’d on the silent deep to play.
8.
Now music stole across the main:
It was a sweet but mournful tone;
It came a slow and dulcet strain;
It came from where the pale moon shone:
And, while it pass’d across the sea,
More soft, and soft, it seem’d to be.
9.
Now on the deck the Lady stands.
The vessel steers across the main;
It steers towards the Holy Land,
Never to return again:
Still the sailors cry, “We’ll be
Your Pilots o’er the stormy sea.”
10.
Now she hears a low voice say,
“Deeper, deeper, deeper still;
“Hark! the black’ning billows play;
“Hark! the waves the vessel fill:
“Lower, lower, down we go;
“All is dark and still below.
11.
Now a flash of livid light,
On the rolling deep, was seen!
And now the Lady saw the Knight,
With doublet rich of gold and green:
From the sockets of his eyes,
A pale and streaming light she spies!
12.
And now his form transparent stood,
Smiling with a ghastly mien;
And now the calm and boundless flood