University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
Poems on Various Subjects

By John Thelwall. In Two Volumes

collapse section 
  
collapse section1. 
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
THE HERMIT OF THE RUINED PALACE.
  
  
expand section 
  
expand sectionII. 


42

THE HERMIT OF THE RUINED PALACE.

Here, this way turn, my sister dear!
“And in this cavern seek
“Protection from the storm severe,
“And windy tempest bleak.
“O! enter quick, ere yet again
“The dreadful lightnings fly;
“Lest, like our guide, we press the plain,
“And all untimely die.”
“Alas!” replies the trembling fair,
With fault'ring voice and weak,
“Where, where, my friend, would thy despair
“A dangerous refuge seek?
“What if within this cavern drear
“Some hungry wolf were found,
“Whom nothing now prevents but fear
“To prowl the forest round?

43

“Or what if here fierce outlaws hive,
“To cruel actions bred;
“By rapine who and murder live,
“To love and pity dead?
“Oh save us heav'n! some place reveal
“Where safely we may rest:
“For ah my fluttering heart I feel
“Is fainting in my breast.
“Oh shield me, Anna, gentle maid!
“How fierce the lightning flies!”
“Alas! I need thy feeble aid!”
The trembling maid replies.
And now a light between the trees
Appears to move that way;
Sad terrors Anna's bosom seize;
Her sister faints away.
From murder warm then forward came
Two ruffians fierce and bold:
A torch one carries, by whose flame
The fair-ones they behold.

44

With speeches rude, they eager seiz'd
Each in his blood-stain'd arms
A wretched female, grimly pleas'd
To view their matchless charms.
Then tow'rds the cave the ruffians bore
With speed the hapless pair;
While struggling Anna wept full sore,
And rent with shrieks the air.
And now returning life appears
To 'lume the sister's eyes;
Fast fall the kind reviving tears,
Her bosom swells with sighs.
But when the lawless wretch she view'd
Who her so closely prest,
And felt his hand, with pressure rude,
Defile her snowy breast,
She fill'd the forest all around
With frequent shrieks and loud;
Whereat the caitiff sternly frown'd,
And thus he vaunted proud:

45

“In vain thy voice the forest rends,
“For none will bring thee aid:
“All know whoe'er assistance lends
“Must soon be breathless laid.”
“It is not so,” bold Rowland cried,
And rush'd from out the shade;
Then fell'd to earth the ruffian's pride:
The other flew dismay'd.
Then Rowland lifts the trembling pair,
Whose grateful hearts o'erflow,
In thanks to him whose timely care
Had snatch'd them both from woe.
“Oh thank me not,” he thus replies,
“For to the feeling breast,
“'Tis joy beyond all meaner joys
“To succour the distrest.
“Then what of thanks can I deserve,
“Who feel within my heart
“A greater joy, while you I serve,
“Than I to you impart.

46

“But leave, fair maids, this dang'rous place,
“And if ye will repair
“To do my lone retirement grace,
“I will conduct ye there.
“No downy couch to rest at ease
“My mould'ring cave can yield;
“But from the rain and chilling breeze
“My mossy roof can shield.
“And if that nature's frugal fare
“Can nature's wants suffice,
“My roots ye shall with welcome share,
“And drink the spring supplies.”
The fair-ones bow, as 'fore the gale
The waving flow'rets bend;
Then leads he winding tow'rds the dale,
And they his steps attend.
And now the winds their roarings cease,
The welkin grows serene;
The clouds disperse before the breeze,
The yellow moon is seen.

47

Fair Anna by the glimmering light
The op'ning view survey'd;
But ah! her sister veil'd her sight,
And trembled thro' the glade.
Her bosom, like the froth-white wave,
Heav'd with the swelling sigh;
Full many a tear her cheek did lave,
Or trembled in her eye.
And now they reach a ruin'd pile,
Of grandeur once the seat,
And wind thro' many a Gothic isle,
To Rowland's lone retreat.
Then up the marble steps they climb,
And to his room arrive,
Whose moss-grown walls, decay'd by time,
The nestling swallows hive.
With creeping ivy overgrown
Was one small casement seen;
Thro' one the moon obstructed shone,
And cast a checquer'd gleen:

48

For this the ivy fring'd around,
And crept fantastic thro';
And close the shatter'd frame it bound,
And up the roof it grew.
With crackling wood to dry the fair
The hermit now essays;
The dying embers wakes with care,
And bids the hearth to blaze.
The fair, refresh'd with warmth and food,
The hermit's grief observe:
His sigh-swoln breast, his troubl'd mood,
His silence and reserve.
And anxious thus the elder spoke:
“Say why, thou man of woes,
“The peopled city you forsook,
“And this retirement chose?
“What sorrows on thy bosom prey,
“To me if thou'lt declare,
“With grateful heart, I'll night and day
“Remind them in my pray'r.

49

“For I, forlorn, the cloister seek,
“In orisons to spend
“My wretched days, resign'd and meek,
“Till death my sorrows end.”
“Oh pious maid!” the hermit cried,
“How can I dare, for shame,
“To thy pure ears my tale confide,
“And guilt like mine proclaim?
“A man of high estate was I
“All in my youthful days;
“My meads did pasture rich supply
“For numerous flocks to graze.
“But ah! to wanton joys inclin'd,
“Heav'n's bounty I abus'd,
“And what for good was thus design'd,
“My misery produc'd.
“Full oft the artless maid I woo'd,
“By grot or shady grove;
“And many, by my arts subdu'd,
“Fell victims to their love.

50

“When now Elfrida met my view,
“A maid of modest air;
“The daisy on the mead that grew
“Was never half so fair.
“Retir'd she liv'd, for fortune's frown
“Had robb'd her of her friends—
“Alas to think! when wealth is flown
“How quickly friendship ends.
“Within a winding glade her cot
“Was built, secure from harms:
“An aged mother shar'd her lot,
“And watch'd her op'ning charms.
“Thus, screen'd the shelt'ring thorn beneath,
“The primrose early grows;
“So, guarded by the parent leaf,
“May's modest lily blows.
“But ah! her modest charms awoke
“In me a lawless flame;
“And ev'ry sacred vow I broke,
“To soil her virgin fame.

51

“My bounty cheer'd the mother's heart,
“And all her wants reliev'd;
“But ah! the while my cruel art
“The daughter's love deceiv'd.
“When oft, by moonlight, on the green,
“The cheerful village throng
“Desporting to the pipe were seen,
“Or to the rustic song,
“Then who like fair Elfrida danc'd?
“Who gain'd but me her hand?
“And who like we so fondly glanc'd
“Of all the youthful band?
“It chanc'd the lord who own'd the glade
“Had long assay'd in vain
“(For pure and spotless was the maid)
“Elfrida's love to gain.
“Like me he burn'd with lawless fires,
“Which different did unfold:
“I fann'd the maiden's soft desires,
“He tempted her with gold.

52

“But when he found that wealth and pride
“To move her had no charms,
“To tempt the aged dame he tried,
“To sell her to his arms.
‘Persuade,’ he said, ‘thy child this night
‘My eager love to crown,
‘This cottage, and this glade, my right,
‘Shall be for aye thy own.’
“But she refus'd, with honest pride,
“And scorn'd the proffer'd store.
‘'Tis well,’ the angry lord replied;
‘Thou shalt repent it sore.
‘For four long years have I forborn
‘To claim my annual right,
‘In pity to thy state forlorn:—
‘But mark it well ere night.
‘For soon on you my steward here,
‘By my command shall wait.’
“He said, and turn'd with frown severe;
“Nor did his anger 'bate;

53

“For ah! full soon the steward came;
“Nor would he brook delay,
“But to a prison forc'd the dame,
“To pine in grief away.
“That day, the annual sports to see
“Of merry harvest-home,
“Did fair Elfrida stray with me,
“And thro' the meadows roam.
“But when, at eve return'd, she found
“Her parent's hapless plight,
“The roses on her cheek she drown'd
“In pity's gems so bright.
“To soothe the maid, I instant flew
“To set her parent free,
“Unheedful of the dusky dew
“Which wet the darkling lea.
“But not releas'd could be the dame
“Until returning morn;
“So back return'd I, as I came,
“To cheer the maid forlorn.

54

“When now towards the cot I drew,
“Her cries assail'd my ear:
“I started at the sound, and flew
“To learn her cause of fear.
“There did I spy the ruffian lord,
“Elfrida in his arms.—
“He strove, without her free accord,
“To rifle all her charms.
“But soon to earth I fell'd the loon,
“And eas'd the maiden's fears;
“And, driving him the cottage, soon
“I kiss'd away her tears.
“But ah! what guilt can equal mine?
“E'en then, while in her eyes
“Love, gratitude, and sorrow shine,
“I seize the blushing prize.
“I press—I triumph o'er her heart.
“Ah me! how oft my soul,
“Repenting of the cruel part,
“Has pin'd in useless dole!

55

“To drown reflection's voice I tri'd
“In riot's noisy bow'rs:
“In banquets of lascivious pride
“Consuming all my hours;
“Till dissipation's wild excess
“Had wasted all my store;
“Then stung by anguish and distress,
“I here the world forswore.
“But ah! my anguish grew so great,
“I could no more endure,
“And so resolv'd to seek my fate,
“And ease by death procure.
“On death resolv'd this night I stood
“Beside the neighb'ring lake,
“When late you rent with cries the wood,
“Which did my purpose break.
“By this adventure taught in time,
“Self-slaughter I'll forego,
“And seek to wipe away my crime,
“By warding others woe.

56

“Nor should the guiltiest wretch, I see,
“Despairing seek the grave,
“Since he, thro' heav'n, the means may be
“Wrong'd innocence to save.
“Then in this shade will I remain,
“To lend the wretched aid,
“And rapine's lawless tribe restrain,
“Till life, or strength's decay'd.”
“These vows,” replied the elder fair,
“Proceed from thy distress.
“Soon from this gloom would'st thou repair,
“Should smiling fortune bless.
“Then Hermit, hear what, free from art,
“With blushes I propose:
“Accept my hand, accept my heart;
“I'll end at once thy woes.
“For lands and riches do I hold,
“And golden stores also;
“These shall be his whose hand so bold
“Preserv'd me late from woe.”

57

“Oh pardon, fair one!” Rowland spake,
“But never will I more
“Of love, or love's delights, partake;
“But Elfrid' I'll deplore:
“For Elfrid's now an empty shade;
“Broke is her tender heart:
“Then here I'll weep the injur'd maid,
“Nor ever more depart.”
Her veil she drew, as this she hear'd,
And all her charms display'd—
It was Elfrida's self appear'd—
Elfrida of the glade.
The lover stood awhile amaz'd,
Then caught her to his breast;
Again in speechless rapture gaz'd;
Again as fondly prest.
“And do I hold thee to my heart,
“Elfrida, yet once more?
“Can'st thou forgive my cruel art,
“And Rowland's peace restore?”

58

“Yes, yes; my Rowland to my heart
“I gladly will restore;
“Nor will I from the world depart,
“Or think of convents more.”
Her words more sweet his bosom cheer
Than larks that soar on high,
When to the weary wanderers ear
They speak the morning nigh.
“Nor mourn,” said she, “thy fortune fled;
“For late a kinsman near
“Did call me to his dying bed,
“And name me for his heir.
“He mourn'd that he, with cruel spite,
“Had let me pine so long;
“And said he could not rest his sprite
“Till I forgave the wrong.
“Sweet rest his soul, in endless peace;
“While we united prove
“The joys, which but in death shall cease,
“That flow from mutual love.”
 

“Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn.” Deserted Village.