The Drunkard's Children A Sequel to "The Bottle" [by Charles Mackay] |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
Part the Sixth.
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| VII. |
| VIII. |
 | The Drunkard's Children |  |
VI. Part the Sixth.
I
Ay, she was free; but whither should she go?To sin, to grief, to the debasing town?
Ay, back again; to lead a life of woe—
Back to the haunts, uninjured by the frown
Of angry Justice;—back, but lower down.
To herd with libertines for vile reward;
To sell caresses to the meanest clown;—
A worthless thing, beneath the world's regard,
Shut out from Virtue's sight, and from her paths debarred.
II
One friend alone in all the world had she—Her wretched brother. Fresh and pure for him
Burned young affection. Deepest sympathy
For all his sorrow made her sight grow dim
With gathering tear-drops quivering, on the rim
Of her red eye-lids, when her fancy drew
The hapless boy, with fetters on his limb;—
Shut in a dungeon from the daylight's view,
Alone with bitter thoughts, pining the long night through.
III
His crime was great. The sentence was severe—Life-banishment from England's happy shore.
Happy? Ah, no! To him a land austere,
Harsh, and unfriendly. Why should he deplore?
Why weep to quit her soil for evermore—
That niggard soil which had denied him bread,
But given him misery in double store?
“Happy the day when he should go,” he said,
“And feel the good ship heave with flowing sails outspread.”
IV
Such thoughts he whispered to the weeping girl,Who came to Newgate for a last farewell:
Th'attendant gaoler was no heartless churl;—
'Twas a last meeting—they had much to tell,
And he allowed them till the evening bell
T'unbosom each to each their hopes and fears—
The long sad story—how they stood—how fell.
And Emma spoke in sobs, and heard in tears;
Nor felt one hope he felt of joy in future years.
V
“Have you not heard,” he said, with cheerful voice,“Of fortunes made in far Australian clime?
“'Tis a poor chance; but still a chance. Rejoice,
“That I may grasp it, and atone for crime.
“Perhaps we'll meet again in happier time,
“And you shall come and join me o'er the sea.
“I'm but a boy; and ere I reach my prime,
“I may wipe off the stain of infamy,
“Plough my Australian fields, and thrive in liberty!”
VI
“Alas!” she said, “I would that I could trace“And share your hopes, dear Edward; but I know
“That never more my eyes shall see your face.
“There is a something whispers as I go—
“Something, I hear and feel, but cannot show,
“That when we part we shall not meet again!
“My life is short—I can but wish it so.
“But be you happy; and when o'er the main,
“Think of my fate sometimes, nor let it warn in vain.”
VII
He strove to comfort her, but o'er him crept,As time wore on, a sadness like her own;
But stoic in his grief, he never wept,
Although his heart lay heavy like a stone,
As still he listened to his sister's moan.
Far happier he, if in that deep distress,
He, too, had wept. The bell sent forth its tone.
Once more, Farewell. Their burning hands they press;
Farewell to Hope and Joy—Welcome to Wretchedness!
| The Drunkard's Children | |