University of Virginia Library

SUBJECT XI.

To paint the passions on each face display'd,
When ceas'd the minstrel, awful in his ire,
Pert were and prolix; when the charge was made,
He sunk exhausted,—with an eye of fire,
Up started Brandon, and up started all;
Awe and mute wonder reign'd throughout the hall;
Ernest first mov'd, and, rushing from his seat,
All view him kneeling at old Beauclerc's feet,—
Beauclerc it was—by cordial balm restor'd,
Upheld by Ernest, he approach'd the board:
Had spoke, but Brandon wav'd imperious hand,
And seated wonder waited his command;
Silence he broke—“The retributive hour
Is come; I bow obedient to it's pow'r;
Nor fear, bold man, the vengeance I could wreak,
Humbled, I pardon; penitent, I speak;
Speak, with a bursting heart, the awful truth,
That guilt and grief, companions of my youth,
Clung to my manhood; harrow me in age,
And threaten havoc to my life's last stage;
But hear, ye honour'd partners of my board,
Hear my plain tale, and equity afford:”
His tale of woe the penitent began,
Ere while recited of the will-warp'd man:
The maid he lov'd, the maid thro' Suffolk lost,
The maid he marr'd for ever, to his cost,
Was love-lorn Alice—here, his voice subdued,
He paus'd, look'd prayer to heaven, and then pursued—
“'Twas that man's daughter—and an hapless son
Clos'd our sad loves—O, heaven, thy will be done!
It's mother died; I liv'd, but liv'd alone
In this dread hour the evil to atone;
Just! just the penalty my crime has prov'd!
Yet heaven can justify how much I lov'd;
How much I languish'd, and how true I meant,
'Till crush'd my hopes, and withered my intent;
By force united of a guardian's mood,
A fortune forfeit, and the claims of blood,
A father's last command—these chose a bride—
A heartless hand I gave, and Alice—died.”
Beauclerc and Brandon, here, each droop'd his head,
And tear for tear, with grief responsive, shed;
While generous sympathy possess'd each mind,
Now the knight's words a ready utterance find;—
“That child I nurtur'd with a secret care,
My name was noble, and my fame was fair;
To glory bred, my honour's stain I fear'd,
My heart not callous, nor my conscience sear'd;
High born and haughty were the guides supplied
To lead my footsteps in the path of pride;
The pride of birth, of dignity, renown,
And all false shame, as splendid, loves to crown.
“A knight, by wedlock to a noble race
Allied, I trembled at my name's disgrace;
My name's disgrace the knowledge had insur'd,
And, dreading shame, I shame's reward endur'd,
Unceasing anguish—from good Beauclerc's pow'r
A wretch disguis'd, in an ill-omen'd hour,
Convey'd the infant, on a night so drear
Pursuit was fruitless; I the spot was near,
And, with my agent, journied to a place
Whose distant scite might shelter my disgrace;
There, well provided, and with gold a store,
We left the infant at a peasant's door;
Saw it receiv'd, a speed trac'd billet told
The child's name Arthur, and that annual gold,
Convey'd in secret, should the guerdon prove
Of fostering kindness and parental love;
That the strange secret should with time transpire,
And Arthur share the honours of his sire.
O, where, O, where is now that hapless son?”—
Here Hubert started, but the knight went on—
“Years past, those years on foreign soil I spent,
In all the restlessness of discontent;
Returning here, new stabs my anguish mov'd,
The man I trusted had a traitor prov'd;
Guilt clings to guilt in mystery's devious ways,
Fiend flatters fiend, first bosoms then betrays;
The fiend I trusted in my absence turn'd
His trust to profit; I, distracted, learn'd
The hind, no more with promis'd gold supplied,
Had wandered, whither every search defied.
My mind subdued, all heavenly hopes depart,
And wasting horrors desolate my heart!—
O where that hind?”—“Here!” Hubert quick begun,
“Behold there Arthur stands, Sir Brandon's son.”
“My son? where? where?”—the peasant, no reply,
But points to Ernest with a glistening eye.
“My son? O heavens!” then sinking on his seat,
Pallid his face, his pulse forgot to beat;
All crowd around him—with hysteric scream,
Edith awakes from a confounding dream
Of fix'd attention; and her cries recal
The swooning knight, and hope relumes the hall.
Meantime old Beauclerc, with the strong surprise,
Had in suspension clos'd his aged eyes;
Recall'd to being by swift cordials given,
He gaz'd on Ernest as a gift from heaven.
Enraptur'd, Ernest, trembling, see they clasp,
Grandsire and sire in wild, alternate, grasp;
With heaven-born sympathy all hearts rebound,
Ejaculations through the hall resound,
For peace, long pray'd for, is for ever found.
But now the scene too exquisitely high
To bear the gazing of th'intrusive eye,
The guests, (with blessings beaming from each look)
With silent step their prompt departure took;
Edith, exhausted by the strange alarms,
Swooning, reclin'd within a minstrel's arms:
That minstrel Allan, who himself made known
When she respir'd; his zealous arms her zone
Trembling she stood, for should her father's eyes
The youth encounter, hope for ever flies;
And from the scene presented she had form'd
Dreams of a hope that all her fancy warm'd.
Ernest, her brother; in parental flow,
Brandon his hate to Allan might forego:
His presence bear, and time at length improve
Notice to favour, favour warm to love.
Reason resumes her empire—Brandon now,
Delighted, raises his dilated brow,
No more contracted by the cramp of care,
And all his features joy's subliming wear.
Again, too, Beauclerc smiles; his boy to find
Thaws the protracted winter of his mind.
Elate with pleasure, and abash'd by praise,
Ernest the whole with wondering doubt surveys;
Joy pours upon him, at an humble cost,
A peasant father, yet a lov'd one, lost;
A father found, ennobled in his name,
Fav'rite of fortune, and enroll'd by fame
A reverend grandsire, who in tender youth
His heart secur'd by training it to truth:
A blooming sister, who in brightness mov'd,
And equall'd only by the maid he lov'd;
The maid he lov'd with mutual love possess'd,
Hope told their union, and that union bless'd;
Full on him burst the splendor of delight,
His sense confounded, and confused his sight.
And now Sir Brandon Edith to his arms
Leads as a sister; sanctified, her charms
No more to Isabel and Ernest prove
A frowning barrier, and the foe of love;
Enclos'd, enclosing, each the other view'd
With graceful love, and wondering gratitude.
The good old matron, with her charge to stay
By Edith press'd when pass'd the crowd away.
Her charge supported, by the scene opprest,
Whose tears bedew'd her sympathising breast.
Hubert, to whom the heart's best traits were given,
Knelt unobserved, and pour'd his thanks to heaven;
His Ellen's darling, and his own best pride,
To fame, to fortune, and to rank allied;
O, what a tale of rapture to impart,
To bless the virtuous partner of his heart.
Aloof, abash'd (the minstrel's garb he wore
His hop'd protection) Allan pac'd the floor;
His stay protracting, though his fears declare
Of all mankind himself least welcome there:
But love detains him, and his Edith's mien
Gives a magnetic charming to the scene;
His step arresting, and, though fain to fly,
He stops, still turning from Sir Brandon's eye;
For Edith's looks some hidden hope convey
He cannot penetrate, but must obey.
Meanwhile, some minutes in delighted mood,
Sweet deeds resolving, generous Brandon stood;
To grace the closing of a scene so dear,
His grateful views in instant act appear;
“Ernest, my son”—with rapturous look he cried,
“Be thy wise choice, bright Isabel, thy bride;
Your hands I join”—and to his arms convey'd
The graceful, grateful, unassuming maid.
“Beauclerc, my friend! life's twilight sheds a ray
Shall grace and gladden our declining day;
Ours to enjoy the little that remains,
With all that life from wealth and honour gains;
Together here, in friendship and in joy,
We'll watch the rising of our matchless boy;
Together here, the path of wisdom trace,
With reason's glory, and religion's grace;
Together here, grateful for all that's given,
We'll live to happiness, and live to heaven.
“Hubert, the fost'rer, father of my child,
Releas'd from labour, and by love beguil'd,
Love for that boy whose tender youth you rear'd,
And nobly cherish'd when no kin appear'd;
Attach'd to him the future shalt thou end,
No badg'd retainer, but an humble friend.
“Edith, my child! a father's tenderest love
With sweet solicitude its warmth shall prove;
That father's hope, ere rests his uprais'd head,
To see thee wisely to some good man wed:
Thine the election, mine the guiding voice;
Mine be the sanction, but be thine the choice.”
She blush'd, she beckon'd, Allan's eye to meet;
Edith and Allan are at Brandon's feet—
He started—paused—and in a moment, see,
Prest to the earth old Beauclerc's reverend knee;
Arthur and Isabel the action view,
Arthur and Isabel are suppliants too:
One prayer of pity all their looks convey,
And Brandon's feelings starting tears display;
“This day,” he cried, “which gives me joy divine,
Shall one heart sorrow and the wound be mine?
Allan, all ranklings from my breast depart,
My hope against thee was, but not my heart;
Edith my child,” and tears here stay'd his voice—
“Mine be the sanction, but be thine the choice.”
Their hands he join'd—here let the curtain fall,
Perfect the climax which brings joy to all.

CONCLUSION.

FAREWELL.

Reader, rest; thy labours cease—
Rest in the plenitude of peace!
May heart's-ease ever bedeck thy bower,
Planted by peace in the golden hour
When all the benignities smiling meet,
And shed their influence, heavenly sweet!
On the head of hope, and the heart of joy,
The cares compose, and the doubts destroy;
And wreathe the thoughts with the am'ranth flower,
The fadeless flow'r that in Eden blows,
Of heaven all redolent, Sharon's rose.
That wreath which, around the temples 'twin'd,
“Gives a sweet summer to the mind,”
Thine be that wreath—thy labours cease;
Now fare thee well; for, well-a-day!
Thine has been patience, and thine be peace—
Farewell; and a merry heart bless thy way!