University of Virginia Library

Away! detested thought! . ...I will not think!
Visionary forms, phantoms of horror,
Hover not around me!—A murderer!
A Youth so beautifully form'd withal;
Of such magnanimous and warlike soul;
'Twas damnable!—A robber!—Observant,—
Watching the unsuspicious step of Wealth,
And with infuriate, with relentless rage,
Marring the works of nature and of man!—
—Damnation! And what to me is Nature?
What, but a treacherous and detested guide,
Leading my footsteps up the height of heaven,
To hurl me thence precipitate to hell?
What Man? but a dark savage, furious for his prey,
And arm'd with subtiler skill, by reason's aid,
To seize, and to secure, it? Full of wiles,
When powerless; empower'd, a gaunt hyæna,
Snatching at life, and gluttonous of death.
'Twas man that bow'd, opprest, destroy'd me,
Girded with power, that ravisht every blessing;
Ease, liberty, and love:—that cast me forth,
Drove out, a monster, from the haunts of men,
To foam and chafe, to prowl for prey, and shake,
With fierce alarms, these wild resounding woods.
—O woods, ye woods, who lift your towering trunks,
And wave your dark tops in the northern breeze,
Safe from the barbarous and despoiling axe;—
Thou cavern'd rock, grotesque and rude, whose top
The mountain-laurel, and whose shelving side
The gadding frost-vine, cover and adorn;—
And ye, ye fountains, whose translucent streams,
Irriguous, beautify the forest wild,
Bursting, white-foaming, from this rocky cave,
Fit haunt of souls like mine!—O bear me witness!
To you alone my sorrows I unfold;
Covering my face with smiles, or, on my brow,
Bearing the stern look of revengeful war,
Before my fellows:—O be witness ye!
Once I was happy: competence and ease,
And glorious freedom, blest me; and, supreme,
Extent, and height, and crown, of every joy,
Love, ardent and sincere, I felt, I knew,
And saw return'd, successful. No remorse
Steept its foul bitter in my cup of bliss.
—Remorse!—stern God of Vengeance! why remorse?
Was it not man, proud man, insulting man,
Tyrannous, and boastful of his noble blood,
That tore, with ruffian hand, my joys away?
Do I not right to make him smart for this?
To spoil him of his wealth, strip him of power,
And o'er his rich domains spread wasting war?
—Thou know'st, inscrutable God! thou knowest well,
That never on the weak my vengeance came;
That I have never stript the poor, but sav'd
His humble cot, and spar'd his little flock.