But there of that he was denied, which she had promised late, Which made him rend his milkwhite locks and tresses from his head, And by a train of noble peers, in brave and gallant sort, 2. THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET.-Wordsworth 2 I Where art thou, my beloved Son? Where art thou? —worse to me than dead! O find me, prosperous or undone! Or, if the grave be now thy bed, why am I ignorant of the same that I may rest; and neither blame nor sorrow may attend thy name? Seven years, alas! to have received no tidings of an only child to have despair'd, have hoped, believed, and be for evermore beguiled-sometimes with thoughts of very bliss! I catch at them, and then I miss ;—was ever darkness like to this? 4 5 'He was among the prime in worth, an object beauteous to behold; well born, well bred; I sent him forth ingenuous, innocent, and bold: if things ensued that wanted grace, (as hath been said!) they were not base; and never blush was on my face. * Ah! little doth the young one dream, when full of play and childish cares, what power is in his wildest scream heard by his mother unawares! He knows it not, he cannot guess; years to a mother bring distress, but do not make her love the less. Neglect me! no, I suffer'd long from that ill thought; and, being blind, said, "Pride shall help me in my wrong: kind mother have I been, as kind as ever breathed:" and that is true; I've wet my path with tears like dew, weeping for him when no one knew. 6 My Son, if thou be humbled, poor, hopeless of honour and of gain, O! do not dread thy mother's door; think not of me with grief and pain :-I now can see with better eyes; and worldly Grandeur I despise, and Fortune with her gifts and lies. 7 Alas! the fowls of heaven have wings, and blasts of heaven will aid their flight; they mount-how short a voyage brings the wanderers back to their delight! Chains tie us down by land and sea; and wishes, vain as mine, may be all that is left to comfort thee. Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan, maim'd, mangled by inhuman men; or thou upon a desert thrown inheritest the lion's den; or hast been summon'd to the deep, thou, thou, and all thy mates, to keep an incommunicable sleep. I look for ghosts: but none will force their way to me; 'tis falsely said that there was ever intercourse between the living and the dead; for surely then I should have sight of him I wait for, day and night, with love and longings infinite. To My apprehensions come in crowds; I dread the rustling of the grass; the very shadows of the clouds have power to shake me as they pass; I question things, and do not find one that will answer to my mind; and all the world appears unkind. 11 Beyond participation lie my troubles, and beyond relief: if any chance to heave a sigh, they pity me, and not my grief. Then come to me, my Son, or send some tidings that my woes may end! I have no other earthly friend. 66 8 3. EDWIN AND ANGELINA.-Goldsmith. Turn, gentle Hermit of the dale, and guide my lonely way, To where yon taper cheers the vale with hospitable ray. For here forlorn and lost I tread, with fainting steps and slow; "Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, "to tempt the dangerous gloom; For yonder phantom only flies to lure thee to thy doom. Here, to the houseless child of want, my door is open still; Soft as the dew from heaven descends, his gentle accents fell: And now when busy crowds retire to take their evening rest, His rising cares the Hermit spied, with answering care oppress'd: "Alas! the joys that fortune brings are trifling, and decay; And those who prize the paltry things, more trifling still than they. On earth unseen, or only found to warm the turtle's nest.' "For shame, fond youth! thy sorrows hush, and spurn the sex?" he said: But while he spoke, a rising blush his love-lorn guest betrayed. Surprised, he sees new beauties rise, swift mantling to the view, The dew, the blossoms of the tree, with charms inconstant shine: And while his passion touch'd my heart, I triumph'd in his pain: But mine the sorrow, mine the fault! and well my life shall pay ; "Forbid it, heaven !" the Hermit cried, and clasp'd her to his breast: The wondering fair one turn'd to chide-'twas Edwin's self that pressed! "Turn, Angelina, ever dear! my charmer, turn to see Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, restored to love and thee. The sigh that rends thy constant heart shall break thy Edwin's too." 4.-FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY.-Dr. Percy. (Partly collated from Shakespeare, and Beaumont and Fletcher.) It was a Friar of Orders Gray walk'd forth to tell his beads; And how should I your true-love know from many another one?" "Oh, by his cockle-hat and staff, and by his sandal shoon. But chiefly by his face and mien, that were so fair to view; His flaxen locks that sweetly curl'd, and eyes of lovely blue." "O lady, he is dead and gone! lady, he's dead and gone! And at his head a green grass turf, and at his heels a stone. Within these holy cloisters, long he languished; and he died Lamenting of a Lady's love, and 'plaining of her pride." "And art thou dead, thou gentle youth and art thou dead and gone? And didst thou die for love of me? Break, cruel heart of stone!" Oh, weep not, lady, weep not so, some ghostly comfort seek; 66 Let not vain sorrow rive thy heart, nor tears bedew thy cheek." 66 Oh, do not, do not, holy friar, my sorrow now reprove; For I have lost the sweetest youth that e'er won lady's love. For thee I only wish'd to live, for thee I wish to die." Weep no more, lady, weep no more! thy sorrow is in vain! For violets pluck'd, the sweetest shower will ne'er make grow again. 66 Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more; men were deceivers ever; "Now say not so!... Thou much-loved youth, and didst thou die for me? Then, farewell, home; for evermore a pilgrim I will be. |