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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| VIII. |
 | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe |  |
Assured of this, with spirits low and tame,
Here life so purchased—there a death of shame;
Death once his merriment, but now his dread,
And he with terror thought upon the dead:
“O! sure 'tis better to endure the care
“And pain of life, than go we know not where:—
“And is there not the dreaded hell for sin,
“Or is it only this I feel within?
“That, if it lasted, no man would sustain,
“But would by any change relieve the pain:
“Forgive me, love! it is a loathsome thing
“To live not thine; but still this dreaded sting
“Of death torments me,—I to nature cling.—
“Go, and be his—but love him not, be sure—
“Go, love him not,—and I will life endure:
“He, too, is mortal!”—Rachel deeply sigh'd,
But would no more converse: she had complied,
And was no longer free—she was his brother's bride.
Here life so purchased—there a death of shame;
Death once his merriment, but now his dread,
And he with terror thought upon the dead:
“O! sure 'tis better to endure the care
“And pain of life, than go we know not where:—
“And is there not the dreaded hell for sin,
“Or is it only this I feel within?
“That, if it lasted, no man would sustain,
“But would by any change relieve the pain:
“Forgive me, love! it is a loathsome thing
“To live not thine; but still this dreaded sting
“Of death torments me,—I to nature cling.—
“Go, and be his—but love him not, be sure—
“Go, love him not,—and I will life endure:
“He, too, is mortal!”—Rachel deeply sigh'd,
But would no more converse: she had complied,
And was no longer free—she was his brother's bride.
| The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe | |