A Metrical History of England Or, Recollections, in Rhyme, Of some of the most prominent Features in our National Chronology, from the Landing of Julius Caesar to the Commencement of the Regency, in 1812. In Two Volumes ... By Thomas Dibdin |
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 | A Metrical History of England |  |
211
The Institution of the Magdalen .
I
'Twas darkest December, the frost pointed sleetWas borne on the whirlwind, like ocean's white foam;
Fast closed was each door and deserted each street.
Save of wretches who wander, devoid of a home:
II
'Twas the season of joy, when his mem'ry sublime,Who bled for our sins and expired for our sake,
Is hail'd with rude mirth, ill beseeming that time
Which shou'd gratitude's noblest emotions awake.
III
The song, and the jest, and the story, went round,By warm hearths where the grape gaily circled about;
And while on the ear burst loud merriments sound,
Mirth heard from within, heighten'd mis'ry without.
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IV
Where the portal superb of an opulent lord,With massy projection invaded the street;
To share the cold shelter it's root might afford,
Two children of want took a sorrowful seat.
V
'Twas winter, I've said, yet thin garments of whiteThe limbs of two shivering females enfold;
And keenly past thro' them the blast of the night,
As close to each other they shrank from the cold.
VI
The transit of heat those fell liquids impart,Those liquids impregnate with murderous fire,
Had ceas'd to inflame, and left colder each heart,
For that warmth of the instant which glows to expire.
VII
With voice scarcely human, so mournfully hoarse,Indignant in tone, yet suppressing a sigh,
One daughter of error address'd her discourse,
To the other who scarce rais'd her tear-swollen eye.
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VIII
“That my parents are living you've oft heard me say,“And, I hoped, uninform'd of their Emily's fate;
“They've discover'd me now, and a letter to day
“Offers pardon and home,—but the offer's too late.”
IX
“Ah take it, accept it,” with eagerness criedThe withering blossom, who lean'd on her knee:
“Accept it! Oh, never!” indignant replied
Stern Emily,—once no one milder than she.
X
“Accept it! encounter a mother's reproof,“A sister's contempt, a whole neighbourhood's scorn;
“No! never again will I darken that roof,
“Where wou'd I had never, ah never been born!
XI
“My father so partial, so fond, none beside,“Of his children so lov'd, so distingnish'd as I,
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“And, sooner than meet him shall Emily die.
XII
“My brother, whose anger inflaming a mind“Once mild as an infant's, with vengeance too just,
“Like lightning, flew swift my seducer to find,
“And mingle his treacherous blood with the dust.
XIII
“Will he too forgive, or will he too forget“That for my sake he wielded the murderous steel?
“No, his bosom must heave with those agonies yet,
“His friend's breathless body first taught him to feel.
XIV
“Accurs'd be the tongue, tho' now silent in death,“Whose accents delusive my senses beguil'd;
“Enveloping poison in flattery's breath,
“To steal from her parents, their once happy child.
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XV
‘But mem'ry avaunt! why recur to the past?“Come, come, fellow suff'rer, this coin is yet mine;
“Shall souls form'd like our's turn coward at last?
“At yon tavern we'll drown the reflection in wine.”
XVI
Away, like a maniac, the frail one has fled,As with counterfeit glee a gay ditty she sung;
Her companion remain'd, while faint, weary, half dead,
From lips deadly-pale were these sentences wrung.
XVII
“Had I but a parent! had I but a home,“A sister, a brother, ah had I a friend!
“No more in the streets wou'd I comfortless roam,
“No more my long suffering conscience offend.
XVIII
“Might Industry succour the orphan bereft,“How hard wou'd I work for a morsel of bread;
“But where shall the female by character left,
“Find shelter to hide her disconsolate head?
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XIX
“For who will the voice of her agony hear?“Or who with relief will her misery bless?
“Or who will believe that the tale is sincere
“Which tells of repentance enforced by distress?”
XX
By sobs interrupted, her accents grew weak,And many a tear fell congeal'd by the frost,
As her sorrow-worn arm scarce supported her cheek,
Yet neither those tears, nor those accents were lost.
XXI
A being, Benevolence beam'd in his heart,And the stamp of that feeling his countenance bore,
Overheard her sad plainings unmingled with art,
And vow'd to conduct her to virtue once more.
XXII
Nor did he alone to her sorrows extendThe hand of assistance which led her to peace:
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And created a home where their sorrows might cease.
XXIII
The mansion exists, to his ne'er dying fameWhich this appellation his memory gives:
“The Friend of wrong'd Woman,” great, gorious name!
It shall ne'er be extinct, while humanity lives!
| A Metrical History of England | |