 | Miami Woods : a golden wedding and other poems |  |
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The Maniac.
I.
“Who walks by yon thicket of hazel and thorn,Her hair all disheveled, her looks all forlorn?”
“'Tis Mary, the Maniac—harmless, though wild—
Her constant companion yon flow'r-seeking child.”
“And what is her story? I pray you relate.”
“'Tis simple—and many are doomed to her fate,
Or worse, for from self shrinks the bosom that errs,
But oblivion of thought is eternally hers.
II.
“Few words will suffice to rehearse you her tale.—Once Mary was fairest of all in our vale;
And the bloom on her cheek, and the glance of her eye,
Shamed the flow'rs of the earth, and the stars of the sky.
But there came to our vale, from the sunny South-West,
A youth who beheld her, and fondly address'd.
He wooed her, he said, as a fair forest flower,
Which he long'd to transplant to his far-away bower.
III.
“He wooed her with looks and with promises dear;He wooed her with words the most honeyed to hear;
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And employ'd each expedient to quiet her fears.
He call'd her the star of his being, whose ray
Could alone gild the gloom of life's perilous way;
He call'd her the sun of his spirit, whose light
Could alone win him back from doubt's wildering night.
IV.
“He call'd her his idol, his glory—the shrineWhere he knelt with a worship was all but divine;
He call'd her,—for words to his false lips came free,—
All man could e'er covet, or woman e'er be.
Touch'd, conquer'd, she rais'd up the low-kneeling youth,
For she knew not that falsehood is smoother than truth;
And his words on her ear like a melody fell,
Till her spirit was bound in a wildering spell.
V.
“She listen'd—and gone were her coyness and pride;She loved—and with his flow'd her heart's gushing tide;
And at once seem'd her whole glad existence to be
Lost in his, as a river is lost in the sea.
From that moment her life was a trance or a dream,
And as tranquilly flow'd as some meadow-marged stream
Which is lull'd with the breath of sweet flow'rs, and the song
Of bee or of bird, all the summer day long.
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VI.
“But 't was like that same stream, had one wave of its breastBeen defiled at the fountain to poison the rest;
And 't was like that same stream, were its course in the path
Which a hurricane soon was to sweep in its wrath.
She awoke from that dream, to the light of the truth;
But in ecstasy still clung her heart to that youth;
For to him all her love, worship, rapture, was giv'n—
Her world now, her idol, her glory, her Heav'n!
VII.
“Oft they stray'd by yon thicket: a bird carol'd thereA song that sooth'd Mary, and wiled her of care;
And still, though six summers have journey'd along,
She roves to that thicket, to listen its song.
But I wander:—Weeks pass'd; and the Frost Sprite came by,
With iris like colors, all fresh from the sky;
And the leaves,—in one clear, starry night, all was done,—
Gleam'd scarlet and gold in the sheen of the sun.
VIII.
“Autumn vanish'd; chill Winter's approaches were heard;And gone was the song of that caroling bird,
Which so long had enchanted the forest and glade;
And gone was the Wooer of Mary the Maid.
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To seek his rich home in the sunny South-West,—
Where, he told her, he'd meet with their wood-chorister,
Whose song should aye 'mind him of first love and her.
IX.
“He'd a mother to win to his purpose, he said,And a father to soften before he could wed;
But he'd leave ere their bird from the South should be flown,
And return with its spring-song to make her his own.
The winter months pass'd, in their darkness and gloom;
But the forest tho' bare, and the flow'rs in their tomb,
Were less desolate far than was Mary's torn breast,
For she heard not one word from the sunny South-West.
X.
At length, where the Winter King rush'd in his wrath,Came spring, and sweet blossoms sprang up in her path;
And the leaf started out from each bud-burden'd spray
She breath'd on, while holding her life-giving way.
Then back to the thicket return'd that fair bird,
And again, morn and eve, its sweet carol was heard;
But the wooer of Mary, who with it had gone,
Came not with its spring-song to make her his own.
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XI.
“Day pass'd after day—week on week journey'd by—And a dark shade was gathering on Mary's blue eye:
Still Hope, sweet deceiver! supported her frame,
And flatter'd her heart, though he hid not its shame.
But the Spring pass'd away: and the Summer's breath blew
On a cheek which was sunken, and pallid of hue;
And a desolate bosom in loneliness beat,
Of tempests of grief and self-torture the seat.
XII.
“Mary's tongue was now fill'd with her false Wooer's name,But the poison-lipp'd spoiler anear her ne'er came;
And she sank, for her grief knew nor changing nor check,
In body and reason a ruin and wreck.
She rose from her couch with an eye fierce and wild,
But gentle whenever it turn'd on her child;
And that child is the only companion she hath,
To lighten the gloom of her desolate path.
XIII.
“All else, though six summers have journey'd awaySave it, and the warbler of life's fairer day,
She shuns; but to listen that thicket-bird's song,
She wanders there often, and loiters there long.
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With fix'd eyes, and check'd breathing, and thin lips apart,
And looks all bewildered,—as if she had heard
A tone of the Past in the song of that bird.
XIV.
“But the spell passes off with a word from her child,And she looks on it kindly, a moment though wild:
Then it leads the poor Maniac home o'er the vale,—
As now.—And such, stranger, is Mary's sad tale.”
“A curse on the Spoiler!” I muttered. “Oh, heaven!
Can he go unscourg'd while his victims 's thus riven?
No! Passion's fierce tempests must rage in his breast,
And his heart find a hell in its sunny South-West!”
XV.
Oh Woman—dear Woman! how often betray'dBy the blandishments sweet that won Mary the Maid!
How often, too yielding! led on to prepare,
By one moment of rapture, an age of despair!
Beware! for the tones the most fervid and sweet,
Are oft but the mask of the deepest deceit,—
As oft the wild flowers that lure with their breath,
Conceal the coil'd serpent, whose venom is death!
| Miami Woods : a golden wedding and other poems | |