 | Young Arthur |  |
Without the cell, hark! clanking chains resound,
The lock recoils and ev'ry bar's unbound;
Before Sir Ernest the steel'd jailor stands,
Charg'd with the summons which the law commands;
Sir Ernest bows, and steadily pursues
The jailor's track, yet pensively reviews
His desp'rate fortune; stigmatiz'd his name,
No human aid to vindicate his fame;
On heaven alone depends the hapless youth,
Who knows and estimates his patriot truth:
But thus repays (his equity to prove)
Filial desertion of parental love.
No witness there his honor's claim to tell,
The Cross, his Person, Name, all doubt dispel;
These and his zeal, which desperate hope impos'd,
Attested, sink him; and the dream is clos'd;
The dream of youth, by wild ambition led
To leave the peaceful for the painful bread;
Unknown to those who every claim could prove
To all his duty, gratitude, and love.
The dream is clos'd—he wakes—to what? despair!
Shame and remorse his rankling bosom tear;
For ever crush'd his fortunes and his fame,
And stamp'd with recreant infamy his name;
His only hope those hearts should never know
His fate whose absence wasted them with woe.
The lock recoils and ev'ry bar's unbound;
Before Sir Ernest the steel'd jailor stands,
Charg'd with the summons which the law commands;
Sir Ernest bows, and steadily pursues
The jailor's track, yet pensively reviews
His desp'rate fortune; stigmatiz'd his name,
No human aid to vindicate his fame;
On heaven alone depends the hapless youth,
Who knows and estimates his patriot truth:
But thus repays (his equity to prove)
Filial desertion of parental love.
No witness there his honor's claim to tell,
The Cross, his Person, Name, all doubt dispel;
These and his zeal, which desperate hope impos'd,
Attested, sink him; and the dream is clos'd;
The dream of youth, by wild ambition led
To leave the peaceful for the painful bread;
220
To all his duty, gratitude, and love.
The dream is clos'd—he wakes—to what? despair!
Shame and remorse his rankling bosom tear;
For ever crush'd his fortunes and his fame,
And stamp'd with recreant infamy his name;
His only hope those hearts should never know
His fate whose absence wasted them with woe.
| Young Arthur | |