 | The Soliloquy |  |
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THE SOLILOQUY,
A POEM, Occasioned by a late Decision.
Is this then the event to which are brought
The hopes I from my earliest youth was taught?
Which planted in my breast were cherish'd there
By those whom duty led me to revere?
Am I declar'd that abject thing of shame,
Without a parentage, without a name?
Am I pronounc'd, what most my soul disdains,
What, ev'n to free myself from slav'ry's chains,
I'd scorn, (so mean a remedy t'embrace)
A vile intruder in another's place?
I am—The rising morn beheld me great,
With numerous vassals, and a wide estate,
At noon my doom is ratify'd, and known,
Nor one poor field can ** call his own.
The hopes I from my earliest youth was taught?
Which planted in my breast were cherish'd there
By those whom duty led me to revere?
Am I declar'd that abject thing of shame,
Without a parentage, without a name?
Am I pronounc'd, what most my soul disdains,
What, ev'n to free myself from slav'ry's chains,
I'd scorn, (so mean a remedy t'embrace)
A vile intruder in another's place?
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With numerous vassals, and a wide estate,
At noon my doom is ratify'd, and known,
Nor one poor field can ** call his own.
'Tis not the loss of riches I regret,
No, witness conscious Heav'n, I ne'er had set
My mind on these; but that I now must see,
And only give a tear to misery;
Must for neglected merit only feel:
This I regret indeed, and while this veil
Of flesh shall last, forever must lament,
And bend beneath this heaviest punishment.
No, witness conscious Heav'n, I ne'er had set
My mind on these; but that I now must see,
And only give a tear to misery;
Must for neglected merit only feel:
This I regret indeed, and while this veil
Of flesh shall last, forever must lament,
And bend beneath this heaviest punishment.
Had I not better in life's humblest sphere
Been set? though lost to all I now hold dear,
The fine sensations; haply by my side,
Content had walk'd, labour my wants supply'd,
The wants of nature; till departed light
I should have toil'd, then pass'd the grateful night,
Stretch'd on my lowly pallat, in repose,
Which only the industrious labourer knows.
How chearful then had roll'd away my days,
Beneath the note of censure, or of praise!
Bless'd with an honest partner of my bed,
A train of infants like their father bred,
With minds proportion'd to their destin'd lot,
Alive, scarce known; and dead, how soon forgot!
Been set? though lost to all I now hold dear,
The fine sensations; haply by my side,
Content had walk'd, labour my wants supply'd,
The wants of nature; till departed light
I should have toil'd, then pass'd the grateful night,
Stretch'd on my lowly pallat, in repose,
Which only the industrious labourer knows.
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Beneath the note of censure, or of praise!
Bless'd with an honest partner of my bed,
A train of infants like their father bred,
With minds proportion'd to their destin'd lot,
Alive, scarce known; and dead, how soon forgot!
Ah, would I ('tis indeed my real desire)
Had been the son of him they call my sire!
With him had trod life's lowest meanest way,
Far from the vain, the wealthy, and the gay,
Liv'd as he liv'd, and when with age oppress'd,
Consol'd each trouble of his aking breast,
Sustain'd him by my hands with filial care,
And paid that duty, which I hop'd to share!
Had been the son of him they call my sire!
With him had trod life's lowest meanest way,
Far from the vain, the wealthy, and the gay,
Liv'd as he liv'd, and when with age oppress'd,
Consol'd each trouble of his aking breast,
Sustain'd him by my hands with filial care,
And paid that duty, which I hop'd to share!
Then would not my adventurous mind have flown
Beyond the path prescrib'd; I had not known
This swelling of the soul, this conscious pride,
To innate worth and nobleness allied,
Which urges on to deeds of great emprize.
I should not then have plac'd before my eyes
A race of heroes, whose untainted fame
Not envy's canker'd tongue can dare to blame;
I should not to myself have said, Pursue
Their bright examples, ever keep in view,
Ever reflect upon their high renown,
Till thou hast made each generous act thy own,
Close in thy thinking breast their virtues bear,
Nor soil one pure idea rising there.
Beyond the path prescrib'd; I had not known
This swelling of the soul, this conscious pride,
To innate worth and nobleness allied,
Which urges on to deeds of great emprize.
I should not then have plac'd before my eyes
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Not envy's canker'd tongue can dare to blame;
I should not to myself have said, Pursue
Their bright examples, ever keep in view,
Ever reflect upon their high renown,
Till thou hast made each generous act thy own,
Close in thy thinking breast their virtues bear,
Nor soil one pure idea rising there.
I should not then have rear'd my youthful head
Above my birth; learning would ne'er have spread
To me her classic page, her rosy bow'rs
I ne'er had seen, ne'er pluck'd her sacred flow'rs,
Ne'er seen the godlike forms which round her stand;
No polish'd thought had led me by the hand
O'er life's rough paths; I had not caught the glow
The warmer sensibilities bestow;
The nicer gust of joy, the fiercer sting
When overshadow'd by affliction's wing;
The liberal warmth, the comprehensive mind,
Which, to the narrow look of int'rest blind,
Opens unbounded, and, with large embrace,
Takes in, like Heaven, the universal race.
Above my birth; learning would ne'er have spread
To me her classic page, her rosy bow'rs
I ne'er had seen, ne'er pluck'd her sacred flow'rs,
Ne'er seen the godlike forms which round her stand;
No polish'd thought had led me by the hand
O'er life's rough paths; I had not caught the glow
The warmer sensibilities bestow;
The nicer gust of joy, the fiercer sting
When overshadow'd by affliction's wing;
The liberal warmth, the comprehensive mind,
Which, to the narrow look of int'rest blind,
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Takes in, like Heaven, the universal race.
Then not beyond my education brave,
I should perhaps have liv'd a willing slave,
Have shook my chains, inspir'd with inward peace
By bounteous ignorance, that kind disease.
I should perhaps have liv'd a willing slave,
Have shook my chains, inspir'd with inward peace
By bounteous ignorance, that kind disease.
Then ne'er, O Britain, on thy happy plains,
Where liberty exulting while she reigns,
Eyes each bold son, and reads within his breast
The ardent characters herself impress'd,
The deep-engrafted sense of generous shame
Quick rising in a blaze at freedom's name:
Ne'er on thy happy plains should I have stray'd;
While even yet in childhood's dress array'd,
I op'd with eagerness my list'ning ear,
Each passionate historic truth to hear
Of priests, of heroes, bleeding in the cause
Of scorn'd religion and expiring laws,
The papal, and the home-born tyrant's might,
Resisted to the death, till antient right
At length prevail'd, and, spight of all their foes,
Fair equity and beauteous order rose.
Where liberty exulting while she reigns,
Eyes each bold son, and reads within his breast
The ardent characters herself impress'd,
The deep-engrafted sense of generous shame
Quick rising in a blaze at freedom's name:
Ne'er on thy happy plains should I have stray'd;
While even yet in childhood's dress array'd,
I op'd with eagerness my list'ning ear,
Each passionate historic truth to hear
Of priests, of heroes, bleeding in the cause
Of scorn'd religion and expiring laws,
The papal, and the home-born tyrant's might,
Resisted to the death, till antient right
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Fair equity and beauteous order rose.
O partial fate! and was I rais'd on high,
Only to sink in deeper infamy!
Yet say, what infamy? Excursive thought
Stand still a moment, and by reason taught
Judge rightly, with strict eye thyself survey,
Where are the crimes which infamy betray?
Only to sink in deeper infamy!
Yet say, what infamy? Excursive thought
Stand still a moment, and by reason taught
Judge rightly, with strict eye thyself survey,
Where are the crimes which infamy betray?
If cordially another's good to share,
If at another's ill to drop the tear
Which pity sheds, and give th'unfeigned sigh;
If to view riches with a scornful eye
But as the hand-maids to benevolence;
If to encourage in my soul the sense
Of generosity, and public love;
If to aspire in active life to prove
The private sentiment, deserve that name,
Let the world stamp on me the mark of shame.
If at another's ill to drop the tear
Which pity sheds, and give th'unfeigned sigh;
If to view riches with a scornful eye
But as the hand-maids to benevolence;
If to encourage in my soul the sense
Of generosity, and public love;
If to aspire in active life to prove
The private sentiment, deserve that name,
Let the world stamp on me the mark of shame.
O boasted reason, e'en thy plausive strain
Whisp'ring soft eloquence, is spent in vain:
Tho' to the few whose minds are sway'd by thee,
Tho' to myself I stand approv'd and free,
Tho' I have merited no mortal's hate,
And e'en my adversaries weep my fate;
Yet this is not enough; I feel, I feel
A wound, not e'en self-consciousness can heal;
My parents mem'ries stain'd—but what of these?
Snatch'd from me by the laws severe decrees,
No father me begot, no mother bore,
I came alone upon life's desart shore.
Whisp'ring soft eloquence, is spent in vain:
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Tho' to myself I stand approv'd and free,
Tho' I have merited no mortal's hate,
And e'en my adversaries weep my fate;
Yet this is not enough; I feel, I feel
A wound, not e'en self-consciousness can heal;
My parents mem'ries stain'd—but what of these?
Snatch'd from me by the laws severe decrees,
No father me begot, no mother bore,
I came alone upon life's desart shore.
Thou dear maternal name, why didst thou save
My infant form from an untimely grave?
Why cruelly a barb'rous kindness show,
Which none but a fond mother's soul could know?
Round me thy arms maliciously entwine,
As if thy own existence cleav'd to mine?
Ah! could thy heart but have suspected, while
Stretch'd on thy knee, I gave thee smile for smile;
While yet not visited by reason's ray,
A thousand things to thee I seem'd to say;
Could'st thou have thought (while warm affection's tear
Descended on the babe thou held'st so dear)
That such as mine, his lot would have been giv'n,
Thou would'st not have preferr'd the pray'r to Heav'n
Ardent with love, to guard his helpless days,
And through the dangerous paths of childhood raise
To manhood's prime, life's evils to assuage,
And lead him to the verge of peaceful age.
My infant form from an untimely grave?
Why cruelly a barb'rous kindness show,
Which none but a fond mother's soul could know?
Round me thy arms maliciously entwine,
As if thy own existence cleav'd to mine?
Ah! could thy heart but have suspected, while
Stretch'd on thy knee, I gave thee smile for smile;
While yet not visited by reason's ray,
A thousand things to thee I seem'd to say;
Could'st thou have thought (while warm affection's tear
Descended on the babe thou held'st so dear)
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Thou would'st not have preferr'd the pray'r to Heav'n
Ardent with love, to guard his helpless days,
And through the dangerous paths of childhood raise
To manhood's prime, life's evils to assuage,
And lead him to the verge of peaceful age.
And would that he had died e'er youth began,
Or long before that youth approach'd to man,
Rather than liv'd, the time alas to spy,
When the base envious tongue of obloquy
Blasphemes thy name, and taints that stock in thee;
Which he would bleed from obloquy to free.
Or long before that youth approach'd to man,
Rather than liv'd, the time alas to spy,
When the base envious tongue of obloquy
Blasphemes thy name, and taints that stock in thee;
Which he would bleed from obloquy to free.
Ye hopes, vain hopes, how idly bade ye rise
Fictitious scenes before my youthful eyes!
How temptingly my novel presence greet!
And lead astray my unsuspecting feet!
By you impos'd upon, beguil'd by you,
Looking in my own breast, from thence I drew
My sentiments of men: how fair your wiles!
How winning sweet your gay delusive smiles!
But Disappointment lurks beneath unknown,
And withers every bud ere fully blown.
Fictitious scenes before my youthful eyes!
How temptingly my novel presence greet!
And lead astray my unsuspecting feet!
By you impos'd upon, beguil'd by you,
Looking in my own breast, from thence I drew
My sentiments of men: how fair your wiles!
How winning sweet your gay delusive smiles!
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And withers every bud ere fully blown.
Hence fond Credulity—now be my breast
By slow belief mistrust, and doubt possess'd:
Of every principle be this the first,
From this bad world still to expect the worst.
By slow belief mistrust, and doubt possess'd:
Of every principle be this the first,
From this bad world still to expect the worst.
But stay,—I see of Peers a glorious band,
The boast, the bulwark of the British land,
With them dwells Truth, and Rectitude of mind,
And Honour's holy flame, and Worth refin'd;
Before them Justice, with impartial hand,
And eye depriv'd of motion, takes her stand:
And Candour darts around her virgin rays,
And Virtue her celestial form displays.
The injur'd there shall not unheard complain,
Nor persecuted orphans plead in vain.
The boast, the bulwark of the British land,
With them dwells Truth, and Rectitude of mind,
And Honour's holy flame, and Worth refin'd;
Before them Justice, with impartial hand,
And eye depriv'd of motion, takes her stand:
And Candour darts around her virgin rays,
And Virtue her celestial form displays.
The injur'd there shall not unheard complain,
Nor persecuted orphans plead in vain.
Come then my second mother, wipe the eye
Of sorrow, and the streaming moisture dry!
But if (tho' far, far otherwise I rate)
Thence too I'm doom'd to meet the stroke of fate,
A fate which so peculiarly is mine,
I'll strive to learn that lesson,—to resign:
To feel, severely feel the righteous will
Of Heav'n, yet bear with humble patience still.
But, O farewell, howe'er belov'd—in vain
You'll strive my hastening footsteps to detain:
In vain you'll call me son, that tender name!
Though not a deed unworthy of his fame,
His maiden fame, nothing to speak him base,
Degenerate, and unworthy of his race,
That son shall do—at least he shall appear
In action worthy to be ** heir.
Of sorrow, and the streaming moisture dry!
But if (tho' far, far otherwise I rate)
Thence too I'm doom'd to meet the stroke of fate,
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I'll strive to learn that lesson,—to resign:
To feel, severely feel the righteous will
Of Heav'n, yet bear with humble patience still.
But, O farewell, howe'er belov'd—in vain
You'll strive my hastening footsteps to detain:
In vain you'll call me son, that tender name!
Though not a deed unworthy of his fame,
His maiden fame, nothing to speak him base,
Degenerate, and unworthy of his race,
That son shall do—at least he shall appear
In action worthy to be ** heir.
Then too farewell thou land of arts and arms,
Of liberty and law, thy various charms
Farewell! to some far-distant region born,
A wretched fugitive, outcast, forlorn,
By Virtue only piloted, I'll go.
Yet shall I backward cast the look of woe;
Sometimes the sigh shall from my bosom rise,
Sometimes the wistful tear shall fill my eyes,
And with whate'er society, where-e'er
My body shall remain, my heart be here.
Of liberty and law, thy various charms
Farewell! to some far-distant region born,
A wretched fugitive, outcast, forlorn,
By Virtue only piloted, I'll go.
Yet shall I backward cast the look of woe;
Sometimes the sigh shall from my bosom rise,
Sometimes the wistful tear shall fill my eyes,
And with whate'er society, where-e'er
My body shall remain, my heart be here.
FINIS.
| The Soliloquy | |