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THE MERCHANT'S BRIDE.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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47

THE MERCHANT'S BRIDE.

A BALLAD.

PART FIRST.

Before the priest young Julia stood
A bright and buoyant maid,
Scarce conscious of the winning charm
Each act and look betrayed.
Her pure white robe, with graceful fold,
And floating veil descend,
While costly flowers from distant climes
With costly jewels blend.
Pearls tremble on her lovely brow,
And clasp her swan-like neck,
And glittering diamonds, rich and rare,
Her slender fingers deck.

48

And he who gave this lavish store
Gazes upon his prize,
Forgetful of the diamond's blaze
While looking in her eyes.
For there, confiding tenderness
And maiden sweetness dwell,
Blent with a soft unconsciousness,
To man the fondest spell.
And freely now her hand in his
She lays—a wedded wife,
And cheerfully the promise gives
To be his own for life.
Oh sweetly hath he deck'd her bower,
And gorgeously her halls;
Here treads her foot on springing buds,
And there on velvet falls.
The massy curtain's graceful flow,
The vase—the painting warm,
Those household echoes—mirrors bright,
Revealing her light form,—

49

Exotics that perfume the air
With odors sweet and strange,
And shells that far in distant climes
Mid ocean-wonders range,—
With countless gifts of taste and art
In classic beauty rife,
Are laid upon affection's shrine
Before that youthful wife.
The ocean deep, the circling air,
The earth for her is sought,
And ere she breathes a prayer or wish,
Possession follows thought.
Nor scarcely on her silken cheek
May glance the summer ray;
And costly furs enfold her form
When winter holds his sway.
Why should he toil at early morn,
And freight the frequent sail,
While still, unsated, gathering night
Finds him with vigil pale?

50

Alas! each day subtracts some tint
From home's delicious bloom.
How soon neglect destroys that plant
Of delicate perfume!
And lonely walks she in her bower,
And lonely in her hall,
And thinks one day-caress from him
Were fairly worth them all.
She pauses at the mirror now,
Still speaks its flattering tone—
But with a sigh she droops her head,
And feels herself alone.
Her fingers on the ivory keys
Run on in listless play,—
“What care I for the foolish song?”
She asks, and turns away.
Yet still he labors.—When within
The whirlpool stream of gain,
Man strives to reach the table-land
Of calm content in vain.

51

Amid his leger's crowded leaves
Once thought he but of her,
Alas! for mammon now he toils,
His hourly worshipper.
The silent meal—the hurried walk,
The news conn'd o'er and o'er,
Betray a mind that beats to home's
Fresh sympathies no more.
And when he hears the fretful word,
Or sees the struggling tear,
He looks around his rich abode,
And asks, “What want is here?”
Who does not know that one kind tone
Is more to woman's heart,
Than all the gauds of wealth and power,
Mere riches can impart?
Yet often to some wild abyss
The coursing streamlet tends,
And mid the rays of gorgeous clouds
The lightning's flash descends.

52

One morn the Merchant told his gains—
In conscious wealth he trod;
The next he stood a beggar'd man,
Nor own'd his burial sod.
Dizzy he turn'd, and as a ship,
Its guiding rudder lost,
Drifts on the sea, so wandered he,
By rushing eddies tost.
And where is Julia, where the flower
So delicately bred,
When this rough storm of fortune's gale
Came bursting on her head?
Strangers were seen in those gay halls,
And idle loungers there
In careless wonder, curious gaz'd
On objects loved and rare.
The auctioneer rang out his jest,
The hammer's stroke was heard,
And laugh on laugh went grating round
As fell each idle word;

53

The mirrors which had multiplied
So oft her loveliness,
The vases which with clustering flowers
Her hands had joyed to dress,—
Books, which her jewelled fingers turned
With gay or studious eye,
Sofas where oft luxuriously
Her form was wont to lie,—
Sweet monuments of taste and love
All broke like ocean's foam—
She turned in sorrow from the spot
To seek another home.

PART SECOND.

Who sits beside yon cozy fire,
A babe upon her knee?
And who is clasping that sweet pair
Fondly and cheerfully?

54

The space is small, but there is room
For Rover at their feet,
The tea-urn gives its hissing sound,
The bread is white and sweet.
Methinks I've seen that full clear eye
Less brilliant in its beams,
And that elastic, graceful step,
Graver than now it seems.
List to that laugh of heartfelt mirth,
List to that tender word,
And see the frequent chaste caress
From sympathy new-stirr'd!
Oh, Julia, in misfortune's scale
Thy worth has well been tried,
And thou art happy, for thy lord
Is happy at thy side.
Awakened from his worldly dream,
Absorbing, selfish, vain,
He finds the path to happiness
Lies not in ceaseless gain.

55

In unaspiring competence
He seeks the golden mean,
Contented in life's calmer fields
His needful wants to glean.
And Julia walks in dignity,
A heaven-relying mind
Enkindling up a latent power,
Scarcely before defined.
More beautiful the Merchant's-bride
Thus school'd to self-control,
Than when light winds of pleasure flew
Across her passive soul.
O who shall call adversity
A dark and cheerless night,
When on her brow such stars appear
Of calm and lovely light?
1837.