 | Poems, by Joseph Cottle |  |
131
RICARDO AND CASSANDRA,
A MORAL TALE.
133
Intemperance! King of Death's aye hov'ring train,
How many thorns o'erspread thy drear domain!
How many miriads round thy temple fly,
And LIFE, and HONOR, sacrifice to thee.
What wild conceit allures their steps away,
Round thine eternal ice-bound realm to stray?
Where never Worth surveys the steril sphere,
Where never Pleasure views Contentment near.
How many thorns o'erspread thy drear domain!
How many miriads round thy temple fly,
And LIFE, and HONOR, sacrifice to thee.
What wild conceit allures their steps away,
Round thine eternal ice-bound realm to stray?
Where never Worth surveys the steril sphere,
Where never Pleasure views Contentment near.
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RICARDO, once the theme of ev'ry song,
Thro' early life sequester'd, past along;
His Mother taught his infant thought to rise,
Up where Creation's Founder gems the skies;
Improved his heart from white-rob'd Virtue's store,
Enlarged his mind with scientific lore,
Taught him to root-out prejudice, nor care,
Splendor, and pomp, and artificial glare,
Which caught the vulgar eye, which rais'd the vulgar stare.
And thus, by tears obstructed, would she say,
“Let me, the debt thy Father owed thee, pay.
“How few of all the countless sons of men,
“Run the full round of threescore years and ten!
“How much does VICE curtail life's little thread,
“And swell the army of inglorious dead!
“Shun the dark Fiend, before whose jaundiced eye
“Creation frowns, and Tempests sweep the sky.
“In all thy strides o'er learning's thorny ground
“Let not Conceit within thy breast be found.
“What tho' thy soul enlighten'd burst her tomb,
“And call fair science from her cloister'd gloom;
“Yet, if with all, soft Modesty should die,
“And lordly Pride distend thy tow'ring eye;
“The silver stream of happiness 'twill stem,
“And rob thy bosom of its brightest gem.
“Humility! that gift by Heaven bestow'd,
“To Worth's bright Temple points the certain road;
“Imparts to Learning's pinion, angel power,
“And adds new graces to the bending flower.”
Thro' early life sequester'd, past along;
His Mother taught his infant thought to rise,
Up where Creation's Founder gems the skies;
Improved his heart from white-rob'd Virtue's store,
Enlarged his mind with scientific lore,
Taught him to root-out prejudice, nor care,
Splendor, and pomp, and artificial glare,
Which caught the vulgar eye, which rais'd the vulgar stare.
And thus, by tears obstructed, would she say,
“Let me, the debt thy Father owed thee, pay.
“How few of all the countless sons of men,
“Run the full round of threescore years and ten!
“How much does VICE curtail life's little thread,
“And swell the army of inglorious dead!
“Shun the dark Fiend, before whose jaundiced eye
“Creation frowns, and Tempests sweep the sky.
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“Let not Conceit within thy breast be found.
“What tho' thy soul enlighten'd burst her tomb,
“And call fair science from her cloister'd gloom;
“Yet, if with all, soft Modesty should die,
“And lordly Pride distend thy tow'ring eye;
“The silver stream of happiness 'twill stem,
“And rob thy bosom of its brightest gem.
“Humility! that gift by Heaven bestow'd,
“To Worth's bright Temple points the certain road;
“Imparts to Learning's pinion, angel power,
“And adds new graces to the bending flower.”
Not more enlarg'd his mind than fair his face,
His manly form the seat of ev'ry grace;
No lurking, mean suspicion damp'd his breast;
No interest sway'd the friendship he profest;
No little cunning clos'd his full-orb'd eye;
Which, forward glancing, beam'd with Majesty;
And as he spake of TRUTH his face would shine,
And as he told her worth 'twas melody divine.
His manly form the seat of ev'ry grace;
No lurking, mean suspicion damp'd his breast;
No interest sway'd the friendship he profest;
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Which, forward glancing, beam'd with Majesty;
And as he spake of TRUTH his face would shine,
And as he told her worth 'twas melody divine.
Amid the Passions brave which most adorn
The breast of man, in life's unclouded morn;
He was not left to mourn, thy empire, LOVE!
And, thro' a World of Flowers, unconscious rove:
CASSANDRA, dear to all whom virtue sway'd,
The Youth had long his heart's best homage paid.
The breast of man, in life's unclouded morn;
He was not left to mourn, thy empire, LOVE!
And, thro' a World of Flowers, unconscious rove:
CASSANDRA, dear to all whom virtue sway'd,
The Youth had long his heart's best homage paid.
Pride of her sex, Cassandra liv'd to please,
Polite with dignity, reserved with ease;
Prompt to relieve the sigh, assuage the tear;
In friendship stedfast, and in love sincere.
Polite with dignity, reserved with ease;
Prompt to relieve the sigh, assuage the tear;
In friendship stedfast, and in love sincere.
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As thro' the flow'ry vale the fond pair stray'd,
Or wander'd lonely thro' the forest glade;
The fair-one's lily hand Ricardo prest,
And told the love that warm'd his glowing breast:
And when the Maid would say, “O flatt'ring Youth,
“Does on thy words attend immortal truth?”
As light'ning quick Ricardo would reply,
“Pride of my heart, and idol of my eye,
“If ever false this throbbing breast shall prove,
“If ever other than Cassandra love;
May I! pursued by heart-distracting woe,
Scorn'd by mankind, thro' earth unshelter'd go.
Or wander'd lonely thro' the forest glade;
The fair-one's lily hand Ricardo prest,
And told the love that warm'd his glowing breast:
And when the Maid would say, “O flatt'ring Youth,
“Does on thy words attend immortal truth?”
As light'ning quick Ricardo would reply,
“Pride of my heart, and idol of my eye,
“If ever false this throbbing breast shall prove,
“If ever other than Cassandra love;
May I! pursued by heart-distracting woe,
Scorn'd by mankind, thro' earth unshelter'd go.
Ricardo yet of life had little known,
Nor felt the crimes to which his heart was prone;
Nor knew the toils, clad in seductive dress,
That lure unthinking Youths to wretchedness.
Nor felt the crimes to which his heart was prone;
Nor knew the toils, clad in seductive dress,
That lure unthinking Youths to wretchedness.
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Ricardo's friends had urged him to survey,
The varying charms which distant climes display;
To store his mind with more than books could teach,
And wisdom gain beyond the vulgar reach.
A Tutor soon they found to bear him part:
Calm were his words, but tempest was his heart.
This world of shadows and this life of toil,
Where Virtue drooping seeks a better soil:
This world so fill'd with barrenness and shade,
To all his views a dark horizon made.
Yet could he tell what Greek or Roman told
Of Monarch heartless, or Plebeian bold;
What Chieftains, Kings, and Senators were found
In councils honor'd, or in wars renown'd.
To know what virtues other minds had known,
He deem'd enough to constitute his own;
For in his breast no love of truth remain'd
His grov'ling soul deceit and falshood chain'd;
He own'd no pitying eye that loved to flow,
When Grief in sadness told a brother's woe;
No foot that toil'd another's good to gain,
No heart that throbb'd to ease a brother's pain;
Wrapt in himself, he cast the world behind,
And found in his reward, the world he scorn'd, unkind.
The varying charms which distant climes display;
To store his mind with more than books could teach,
And wisdom gain beyond the vulgar reach.
A Tutor soon they found to bear him part:
Calm were his words, but tempest was his heart.
This world of shadows and this life of toil,
Where Virtue drooping seeks a better soil:
This world so fill'd with barrenness and shade,
To all his views a dark horizon made.
Yet could he tell what Greek or Roman told
Of Monarch heartless, or Plebeian bold;
What Chieftains, Kings, and Senators were found
In councils honor'd, or in wars renown'd.
To know what virtues other minds had known,
He deem'd enough to constitute his own;
For in his breast no love of truth remain'd
His grov'ling soul deceit and falshood chain'd;
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When Grief in sadness told a brother's woe;
No foot that toil'd another's good to gain,
No heart that throbb'd to ease a brother's pain;
Wrapt in himself, he cast the world behind,
And found in his reward, the world he scorn'd, unkind.
Ricardo, ere thro' Gallia's realm he mov'd,
Was modest, chaste, and all that Virtue lov'd;
But, doom'd to meet the Gambler's deadly crew,
They soon within their toils Ricardo drew;
And whilst they stript his purse, with courteous guile,
Poison'd his bosom with their converse vile.
Was modest, chaste, and all that Virtue lov'd;
But, doom'd to meet the Gambler's deadly crew,
They soon within their toils Ricardo drew;
And whilst they stript his purse, with courteous guile,
Poison'd his bosom with their converse vile.
The youth, who long contending with the wave,
Marks the high surge, and hears the tempest rave,
Whilst in a moment o'er the vessel's side,
Masts, cords, and sails are swallow'd in the tide;
Surveys the stormy scene with faultering breath,
And dreads in every blast the Form of Death:
Yet, if the Hull be sound, he still may share
A Father's blessing and a Mother's care.
So, he who sails on Pleasure's rocky sea,
At length may mark the crags and danger flee;
Trembling survey the quicksands he has crost:
But, when the mind is poison'd, all is lost.
A world unknown Ricardo's eye perceives,
And once-lov'd paths now unregretted leaves.
Tumult and noise he seeks with endless care,
Flies to escape Remorse's frightful glare,
Joins in the song, extends the circling fume,
And fills his Bumper to,—he cares not whom:
Hears gentle Conscience whisper, but in vain,
Drinks with the Drunkard, swears with the Profane;
Recounts their toasts and tales with cordial glee,
And laughs most loud at thee, oh Chastity!
Marks the high surge, and hears the tempest rave,
Whilst in a moment o'er the vessel's side,
Masts, cords, and sails are swallow'd in the tide;
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And dreads in every blast the Form of Death:
Yet, if the Hull be sound, he still may share
A Father's blessing and a Mother's care.
So, he who sails on Pleasure's rocky sea,
At length may mark the crags and danger flee;
Trembling survey the quicksands he has crost:
But, when the mind is poison'd, all is lost.
A world unknown Ricardo's eye perceives,
And once-lov'd paths now unregretted leaves.
Tumult and noise he seeks with endless care,
Flies to escape Remorse's frightful glare,
Joins in the song, extends the circling fume,
And fills his Bumper to,—he cares not whom:
Hears gentle Conscience whisper, but in vain,
Drinks with the Drunkard, swears with the Profane;
Recounts their toasts and tales with cordial glee,
And laughs most loud at thee, oh Chastity!
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When injur'd Virtue leaves her calm retreat,
Vice soon supplies the desolated seat;
When once the bosom scorns her mild controul,
Ten thousand evils crowd upon the soul.
Vice soon supplies the desolated seat;
When once the bosom scorns her mild controul,
Ten thousand evils crowd upon the soul.
Cassandra now no longer fans his flame,
The scoul of Hatred rises at her name:
For Love, chaste Love, disdains the vicious breast,
And blooms alone where Virtue sits carest.
The scoul of Hatred rises at her name:
For Love, chaste Love, disdains the vicious breast,
And blooms alone where Virtue sits carest.
Two years elaps'd in Folly's baneful train,
The youth resolves to visit home again:
His form, which once might with Adonis vie,
His step matur'd, and meditating eye,
His placid brow which spake superior sense,
His honest smile, and look of diffidence;
Now like a dream remain'd; whilst pale and wan
The present shape disgrac'd the former man.
The youth resolves to visit home again:
His form, which once might with Adonis vie,
His step matur'd, and meditating eye,
His placid brow which spake superior sense,
His honest smile, and look of diffidence;
Now like a dream remain'd; whilst pale and wan
The present shape disgrac'd the former man.
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With hectic cough he slowly mov'd along,
Whisper'd his joke, or faintly humm'd his song;
Till in due time he saw the village dome,
Till with decrepid step he reach'd his home.
Whisper'd his joke, or faintly humm'd his song;
Till in due time he saw the village dome,
Till with decrepid step he reach'd his home.
With heart entranc'd his Mother ran to greet;
“My son! my son!” she cried, “I heard his feet,
“I heard his well-known voice, or seem'd to hear!”
I am your son, reply'd his shadow near.
“Imposter vile! thou slanderer of the youth!
“My son look'd modest, and his smile was truth.
“But if thou art my son!” the mother said,
“At what curst shrine hast thou thine homage paid?
“What Fiend of Hell uptore fair Virtue's sence,
“And robb'd thy beaming eye of innocence?”
“My son! my son!” she cried, “I heard his feet,
“I heard his well-known voice, or seem'd to hear!”
I am your son, reply'd his shadow near.
“Imposter vile! thou slanderer of the youth!
“My son look'd modest, and his smile was truth.
“But if thou art my son!” the mother said,
“At what curst shrine hast thou thine homage paid?
“What Fiend of Hell uptore fair Virtue's sence,
“And robb'd thy beaming eye of innocence?”
With steps all faltering, and with looks all hate,
Scarce could his feeble limbs support their weight:
For Vice in her dark train had held him long,
And charm'd him with her soul-seducing song;
And led his footsteps by her twilight gleam,
Till on the verge of Death's oblivious stream.
Scarce could his feeble limbs support their weight:
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And charm'd him with her soul-seducing song;
And led his footsteps by her twilight gleam,
Till on the verge of Death's oblivious stream.
Far from those scenes Ricardo render'd dear,
Cassandra past her hours, and strove to cheer
The tedious moments of his lengthen'd stay,
In list'ning to the homely Roundelay
Of Scotia's Rustics, when at silver eve
They met to sing or mazy circle weave;
But still the Maiden's heart to love was true,
But still Ricardo's image was in view,
Still for his sake she felt her bosom burn,
And when the tidings came of his return,
With anxious joy and palpitating breast,
She sought the travell'd Youth, by fancy drest
In all the charms that Love could picture forth,
In beauty, honor, dignity, and worth;
And as his room she enter'd with delight,
(Where, feebly glimmering, beam'd a taper's light)
She cast her eye with wistful glance around,
And on a distant Couch Ricardo found:
Stretch'd as in death his senseless members lay;
His eye, erst gleaming with effulgent ray,
At fair Cassandra's sight, now round her stray'd,
Nor show'd emotion at the once-lov'd Maid.
Cassandra past her hours, and strove to cheer
The tedious moments of his lengthen'd stay,
In list'ning to the homely Roundelay
Of Scotia's Rustics, when at silver eve
They met to sing or mazy circle weave;
But still the Maiden's heart to love was true,
But still Ricardo's image was in view,
Still for his sake she felt her bosom burn,
And when the tidings came of his return,
With anxious joy and palpitating breast,
She sought the travell'd Youth, by fancy drest
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In beauty, honor, dignity, and worth;
And as his room she enter'd with delight,
(Where, feebly glimmering, beam'd a taper's light)
She cast her eye with wistful glance around,
And on a distant Couch Ricardo found:
Stretch'd as in death his senseless members lay;
His eye, erst gleaming with effulgent ray,
At fair Cassandra's sight, now round her stray'd,
Nor show'd emotion at the once-lov'd Maid.
As when a Lamb, by angry lightnings slain,
Extended lies upon the storm-drench'd plain;
Some neighbouring Shepherd, doubtful of the cause,
With anxious step around the suff'rer draws;
Unknowing, first, if 'tis his fleecy charge,
Or one of flocks that range the plain at large;
Till, closer prying,—piteous is his state,
He knows the wanderer, and deplores his fate.
Extended lies upon the storm-drench'd plain;
Some neighbouring Shepherd, doubtful of the cause,
With anxious step around the suff'rer draws;
Unknowing, first, if 'tis his fleecy charge,
Or one of flocks that range the plain at large;
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He knows the wanderer, and deplores his fate.
So fair Cassandra, trembling, view'd his face;
What once was lovely, fancied she could trace;
And now in doubt remain'd; till, by his eye
She saw indeed Ricardo's self was nigh;
Startling and wild, exclaim'd the sorrowing Maid,
“And art thou he to whom my vows were paid?
“For whom my prayers (regardless of repose)
“Have linger'd through the night till morn arose?
“What means that alter'd cheek? that sudden start?
“That cold, cold look that petrifies my heart?”
She paus'd awhile;—when, on her list'ning ear,—
Ricardo breath'd his last.—In wild amaze,
On his clos'd eye Cassandra fix'd her gaze:
When,—low she sunk upon his breathless clay,
And thus with soul all agoniz'd did say;
Cold is my heart, and dim my aching sight;
The day-star of my hope is sunk in night.—
What once was lovely, fancied she could trace;
And now in doubt remain'd; till, by his eye
She saw indeed Ricardo's self was nigh;
Startling and wild, exclaim'd the sorrowing Maid,
“And art thou he to whom my vows were paid?
“For whom my prayers (regardless of repose)
“Have linger'd through the night till morn arose?
“What means that alter'd cheek? that sudden start?
“That cold, cold look that petrifies my heart?”
She paus'd awhile;—when, on her list'ning ear,—
Ricardo breath'd his last.—In wild amaze,
On his clos'd eye Cassandra fix'd her gaze:
When,—low she sunk upon his breathless clay,
And thus with soul all agoniz'd did say;
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The day-star of my hope is sunk in night.—
And as she homeward thro' the church-yard stray'd
And mark'd a tomb beneath a yew-tree's shade;
This be my lot, she cry'd; and let me be,
Clos'd in one grave, my better self, with thee.
But fifteen suns had spread their radiance wide,
Before Cassandra droop'd her head and died;
And bury'd was the Maid close by her Lover's side.
And mark'd a tomb beneath a yew-tree's shade;
This be my lot, she cry'd; and let me be,
Clos'd in one grave, my better self, with thee.
But fifteen suns had spread their radiance wide,
Before Cassandra droop'd her head and died;
And bury'd was the Maid close by her Lover's side.
And when to prayers the Sunday church bells toll,
And neighbouring Rustics, musing as they stroll,
The new rais'd mound of fair Cassandra pass,
And mark the red earth spotted o'er with grass;
A deep-toned sigh bespeaks their burthen'd hearts,
Whilst ever from their eyes the tear unconscious starts.
Even the old Sexton, whom no common fate
Stops in his road, and leads to contemplate,
Here, pauses sad, and to the Children nigh,
Tells, that beneath a hapless couple lie;
The Youth who once a matchless Fair admired,
Till vice prevail'd, and love and life expired:
The Maid, who mark'd the change, with wasting care,
And died at last the Victim of despair.
And neighbouring Rustics, musing as they stroll,
The new rais'd mound of fair Cassandra pass,
And mark the red earth spotted o'er with grass;
A deep-toned sigh bespeaks their burthen'd hearts,
Whilst ever from their eyes the tear unconscious starts.
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Stops in his road, and leads to contemplate,
Here, pauses sad, and to the Children nigh,
Tells, that beneath a hapless couple lie;
The Youth who once a matchless Fair admired,
Till vice prevail'd, and love and life expired:
The Maid, who mark'd the change, with wasting care,
And died at last the Victim of despair.
| Poems, by Joseph Cottle | |