The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe with his letters and journals, and his life, by his son. In eight volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III, IV, V. |
 | VI, VII. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| VIII. |
 | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe |  |
Sir Owen softly to his bed adjourn'd,
Sir Owen quickly to his home return'd;
And all the way he meditating dwelt
On what this man in his affliction felt;
How he, resenting first, forbore, forgave,
His passion's lord, and not his anger's slave:
And as he rode he seem'd to fear the deed
Should not be done, and urged unwonted speed.
Sir Owen quickly to his home return'd;
And all the way he meditating dwelt
On what this man in his affliction felt;
40
His passion's lord, and not his anger's slave:
And as he rode he seem'd to fear the deed
Should not be done, and urged unwonted speed.
Arrived at home, he scorn'd the change to hide,
Nor would indulge a mean and selfish pride,
That would some little at a time recall
Th' avenging vow; he now was frankness all:
He saw his nephew, and with kindness spoke—
“Charles, I repent my purpose, and revoke;
“Take her—I'm taught, and would I could repay
“The generous teacher; hear me, and obey:
“Bring me the dear coquette, and let me vow
“On lips half perjured to be passive now:
“Take her, and let me thank the powers divine
“She was not stolen when her hand was mine,
“Or when her heart—Her smiles I must forget,
“She my revenge, and cancel either debt.”
Nor would indulge a mean and selfish pride,
That would some little at a time recall
Th' avenging vow; he now was frankness all:
He saw his nephew, and with kindness spoke—
“Charles, I repent my purpose, and revoke;
“Take her—I'm taught, and would I could repay
“The generous teacher; hear me, and obey:
“Bring me the dear coquette, and let me vow
“On lips half perjured to be passive now:
“Take her, and let me thank the powers divine
“She was not stolen when her hand was mine,
“Or when her heart—Her smiles I must forget,
“She my revenge, and cancel either debt.”
Here ends our tale, for who will doubt the bliss
Of ardent lovers in a case like this?
And if Sir Owen's was not half so strong,
It may, perchance, continue twice as long.
Of ardent lovers in a case like this?
And if Sir Owen's was not half so strong,
It may, perchance, continue twice as long.
| The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe | |