The Shamrock or, Hibernian Cresses. A Collection of Poems, Songs, Epigrams, &c. Latin as well as English, The Original Production of Ireland. To which are subjoined thoughts on the prevailing system of school education, respecting young ladies as well as gentlemen: with practical proposals for a reformation [by Samuel Whyte] |
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| III. | LETTER III. |
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 | The Shamrock |  |
387
LETTER III.
INSCRIBED TO MISS O NEIL.
When from my Swoon, where my unhappy Lot,
My Woes, my Hopes, even Aza was forgot,
In Tears I wak'd; for still my Grief supplies
The briny Torrent that o'erflows my Eyes:
At first, around a spacious Room they range,
In Contemplation of a second Change;
Next, but well pleas'd, and wondering, they survey'd
The sumptuous Couch on which my Limbs were laid:
But still this House the plunging Motion feels,
And my sick Stomach, as before, rebels.
No more the cruel, whisker'd Spaniards, now,
Affront my Sorrows with a gloomy Brow;
A Crew of gentle Savages approach,
And, smiling, stand respectful round my Couch:
In these, no cursed Ravishers are seen,
Unlike in Countenance, in Dress, in Mien;
But, oh! how different from my much-lov'd Lord,
By bounteous Nature fram'd to be ador'd!
Where, in what mortal Visage can I find
Such Beauty, and such Majesty combin'd?
Thou perfect Pattern of excelling Worth,
Form'd or to bless, or to command the Earth,
When shall my Eyes behold thy manly Charms?
When wilt thou fold me in a Husband's Arms?
My Woes, my Hopes, even Aza was forgot,
In Tears I wak'd; for still my Grief supplies
The briny Torrent that o'erflows my Eyes:
At first, around a spacious Room they range,
In Contemplation of a second Change;
Next, but well pleas'd, and wondering, they survey'd
The sumptuous Couch on which my Limbs were laid:
But still this House the plunging Motion feels,
And my sick Stomach, as before, rebels.
No more the cruel, whisker'd Spaniards, now,
Affront my Sorrows with a gloomy Brow;
A Crew of gentle Savages approach,
And, smiling, stand respectful round my Couch:
In these, no cursed Ravishers are seen,
Unlike in Countenance, in Dress, in Mien;
But, oh! how different from my much-lov'd Lord,
By bounteous Nature fram'd to be ador'd!
Where, in what mortal Visage can I find
Such Beauty, and such Majesty combin'd?
Thou perfect Pattern of excelling Worth,
Form'd or to bless, or to command the Earth,
388
When wilt thou fold me in a Husband's Arms?
The sullen Aspects of my former Foes,
Phlegm, Pride, Disdain, and Cruelty disclose;
Whene'er they speak, expressive Accents seem
First deeply weigh'd, to indicate the Theme;
Their haughty Gloom, and supercilious Pride,
Affect Contempt for all the World beside;
Their Look betrays the Temper of their Mind,
By Malice sway'd, to Cruelty inclin'd.
Think it not strange, that Heaven's all-wise Commands
Should be deputed to such worthless Hands;
Nor that the avenging Deity can please
To scourge our Sins by Delegates like these;
Thou knowest when Criminals are doom'd to bleed,
The vilest Hand performs the fatal Deed.
Phlegm, Pride, Disdain, and Cruelty disclose;
Whene'er they speak, expressive Accents seem
First deeply weigh'd, to indicate the Theme;
Their haughty Gloom, and supercilious Pride,
Affect Contempt for all the World beside;
Their Look betrays the Temper of their Mind,
By Malice sway'd, to Cruelty inclin'd.
Think it not strange, that Heaven's all-wise Commands
Should be deputed to such worthless Hands;
Nor that the avenging Deity can please
To scourge our Sins by Delegates like these;
Thou knowest when Criminals are doom'd to bleed,
The vilest Hand performs the fatal Deed.
In these, a sprightly, more engaging Air
Flatters my Hope, and mitigates Despair:
My Pallet Side officious they attend,
And their kind Aid most willing seem to lend;
For still I'm sick: But he, among the Rest,
Who look'd the Cazique, most Concern express'd.
But, if thou canst, conceive my blushing Rage,
When one, whose Hairs confess'd an hoary Age,
Abruptly seiz'd on my reluctant Hand;
Nor could my Strength his sudden Force withstand:
I tore it back; but he, with cool Disdain,
Smil'd at my Fears, and seiz'd my Hand again;
Since when, regardless of a Virgin's Shame,
Each Day, indecent, he repeats the same:
What would he have? can he presume to know,
By outward Contact, whence proceeds my Woe?
Go, foolish Man, explore my aking Heart;
'Tis there you'll find the Cause of Zilia's Smart.
Sometimes, I am apt to fancy they're inclin'd
To think me form'd superior to their Kind;
When they approach, they bow respectful down,
As we are wont, while worshipping the Sun.
Flatters my Hope, and mitigates Despair:
My Pallet Side officious they attend,
And their kind Aid most willing seem to lend;
For still I'm sick: But he, among the Rest,
Who look'd the Cazique, most Concern express'd.
But, if thou canst, conceive my blushing Rage,
When one, whose Hairs confess'd an hoary Age,
Abruptly seiz'd on my reluctant Hand;
Nor could my Strength his sudden Force withstand:
I tore it back; but he, with cool Disdain,
Smil'd at my Fears, and seiz'd my Hand again;
Since when, regardless of a Virgin's Shame,
Each Day, indecent, he repeats the same:
389
By outward Contact, whence proceeds my Woe?
Go, foolish Man, explore my aking Heart;
'Tis there you'll find the Cause of Zilia's Smart.
Sometimes, I am apt to fancy they're inclin'd
To think me form'd superior to their Kind;
When they approach, they bow respectful down,
As we are wont, while worshipping the Sun.
But, how shall I my fond Attempt pursue,
While fresh Misfortunes rise within my View!
My Limbs were just recovering by Degrees
Their former Strength, reliev'd from the Disease;
Tottering I rose, and crept from where I lay
To where my moving Room receiv'd the Day:
How shall I find Expressions to impart
My trembling Horrors to thy anxious Heart!
Nought have I left, but patiently to die,
Sinking beneath a hapless Destiny:
What did I see! oh! guess at my Surprize,
Where Nought appear'd but rolling Waves, and Skies?
Too well, alas! my prying Reason guess'd,
What, but too well, the reeling House confess'd:
At length, I ventur'd from my Door to take
Some Observations of the Fabrick's Make:
Such floating Castles, erst, the Spaniards bore,
Full-fraught with Thunder to our destin'd Shore;
Rang'd on the Sides, black Iron Teeth appear,
Commission'd ready for the Trade of War;
Large lofty Trees from out the Surface grow,
Whose taper Heads the gaudy Streamers shew;
Quick through the Air their Wings expanded sweep,
While their broad Bellies cut the indented Deep;
With headlong Force they dive into the Main,
Thence rising, climb the mountain Wave again:
Strange! whence these Savages derive their Skill,
That Winds and Seas yield passive to their Will:
Most sure, the Horrors, I describ'd before,
Were not the Effects of supernatural Power;
'Twas from those Instruments of Hell, design'd,
By Man's Invention, to destroy their Kind.
In vain, my wretched Fortune I deplore,
Torn from thy Arms, ne'er to behold thee more;
Each transient Moment, while my Threads disclose
My painful Lot, the widening Distance grows.
Since thou art lost, permit me to destroy
A hapless Life, I can no more enjoy:
The Seas, now kind, shall minister Relief;
A Moment's Space annihilates my Grief:
Courage, my Limbs, and aid my fatal Will:—
Alas! I feel the coward Woman still.
From whence proceeds this peace-obstructing Fear?
Why shrinks my Soul at Dissolution near?
'Tis Nature's Voice that intimates the Wrong;
Immortal Souls to Heaven itself belong:
'Tis an Hereafter, which aloud commands
To wait our Doom from our Creator's Hands:
If, by our Death, we from Distress would fly,
'Tis then, most sure, but Cowardice to die.
Perhaps I'm destin'd this Distress to prove,
To rise more worthy of my Aza's Love:
No—let me live—'till Pacha Camac deigns
To end, relieve, or mitigate my Pains.
While fresh Misfortunes rise within my View!
My Limbs were just recovering by Degrees
Their former Strength, reliev'd from the Disease;
Tottering I rose, and crept from where I lay
To where my moving Room receiv'd the Day:
How shall I find Expressions to impart
My trembling Horrors to thy anxious Heart!
Nought have I left, but patiently to die,
Sinking beneath a hapless Destiny:
What did I see! oh! guess at my Surprize,
Where Nought appear'd but rolling Waves, and Skies?
Too well, alas! my prying Reason guess'd,
What, but too well, the reeling House confess'd:
At length, I ventur'd from my Door to take
Some Observations of the Fabrick's Make:
Such floating Castles, erst, the Spaniards bore,
Full-fraught with Thunder to our destin'd Shore;
Rang'd on the Sides, black Iron Teeth appear,
Commission'd ready for the Trade of War;
Large lofty Trees from out the Surface grow,
Whose taper Heads the gaudy Streamers shew;
Quick through the Air their Wings expanded sweep,
While their broad Bellies cut the indented Deep;
With headlong Force they dive into the Main,
Thence rising, climb the mountain Wave again:
390
That Winds and Seas yield passive to their Will:
Most sure, the Horrors, I describ'd before,
Were not the Effects of supernatural Power;
'Twas from those Instruments of Hell, design'd,
By Man's Invention, to destroy their Kind.
In vain, my wretched Fortune I deplore,
Torn from thy Arms, ne'er to behold thee more;
Each transient Moment, while my Threads disclose
My painful Lot, the widening Distance grows.
Since thou art lost, permit me to destroy
A hapless Life, I can no more enjoy:
The Seas, now kind, shall minister Relief;
A Moment's Space annihilates my Grief:
Courage, my Limbs, and aid my fatal Will:—
Alas! I feel the coward Woman still.
From whence proceeds this peace-obstructing Fear?
Why shrinks my Soul at Dissolution near?
'Tis Nature's Voice that intimates the Wrong;
Immortal Souls to Heaven itself belong:
'Tis an Hereafter, which aloud commands
To wait our Doom from our Creator's Hands:
If, by our Death, we from Distress would fly,
'Tis then, most sure, but Cowardice to die.
Perhaps I'm destin'd this Distress to prove,
To rise more worthy of my Aza's Love:
No—let me live—'till Pacha Camac deigns
To end, relieve, or mitigate my Pains.
Scarce did our radiant mighty Sire display
The rising Glories that announce the Day,
When, on a sudden, the distracted Rout
Assail'd my Ears with a tumultuous Shout;
In nimble Dance they tread the floating Ground,
While the red Maijs flows in Plenty round;
As when our Priests prepare the sacred Rite,
To solemnize our glorious Feast of Light.
The rising Glories that announce the Day,
When, on a sudden, the distracted Rout
Assail'd my Ears with a tumultuous Shout;
391
While the red Maijs flows in Plenty round;
As when our Priests prepare the sacred Rite,
To solemnize our glorious Feast of Light.
But, now, the Chief, who kindly seems to bear
In my Misfortunes more than common Share,
Led me to where I just before had view'd,
In vast Distress, the madly raging Flood:
Here, to a Tube or necromantic Wand
My Eye, affix'd, beheld a distant Land;
Thence, by the Cazique's frequent Signs, I find
Our floating Mansion for that Land design'd;
That no Solemnities their Thoughts employ,
But this sole Reason of their present Joy:
'Tis sure thy Empire; for the chearful Day
Here feels the Impulse of the solar Ray.
Will pitying Fate my Aza then restore,
And part poor Zilia from her Love no more?
My blissful Soul excessive Joys shall prove,
When once united to the Man I love,
I shall again return thy warm Embrace:
Can any Woes such Extacy efface?
The past are vanish'd; Thoughts of future Joy
Fill all my Soul, and every Sense employ.
In my Misfortunes more than common Share,
Led me to where I just before had view'd,
In vast Distress, the madly raging Flood:
Here, to a Tube or necromantic Wand
My Eye, affix'd, beheld a distant Land;
Thence, by the Cazique's frequent Signs, I find
Our floating Mansion for that Land design'd;
That no Solemnities their Thoughts employ,
But this sole Reason of their present Joy:
'Tis sure thy Empire; for the chearful Day
Here feels the Impulse of the solar Ray.
Will pitying Fate my Aza then restore,
And part poor Zilia from her Love no more?
My blissful Soul excessive Joys shall prove,
When once united to the Man I love,
I shall again return thy warm Embrace:
Can any Woes such Extacy efface?
The past are vanish'd; Thoughts of future Joy
Fill all my Soul, and every Sense employ.
| The Shamrock | |