[Poems by Trowbridge in] A masque of poets Including Guy Vernon, a novelette in verse |
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| 6. | PART VI.
SATURN. |
 | [Poems by Trowbridge in] A masque of poets |  |
277
6. PART VI.
SATURN.
I.
Lorne undertook the business with a zeal
And promptness hardly to have been expected.
The lodging-house had little to reveal,
And yet one clew that Saturn had neglected
Showed where his baggage went, and where he checked-it
For a swift western train that afternoon,—
Which Lorne, this point decided, followed soon.
And promptness hardly to have been expected.
The lodging-house had little to reveal,
And yet one clew that Saturn had neglected
Showed where his baggage went, and where he checked-it
For a swift western train that afternoon,—
Which Lorne, this point decided, followed soon.
And now commenced the rather curious chase
Of the escaping husband by the lover.
'Mid crossing trains Lorne often lost the trace
Whereby he hoped to hunt the pair to cover,
Which happy chances helped him to recover,—
A friendly clerk or baggageman, somewhere,
Remembering Saturn's face and foppish air.
Of the escaping husband by the lover.
'Mid crossing trains Lorne often lost the trace
Whereby he hoped to hunt the pair to cover,
Which happy chances helped him to recover,—
A friendly clerk or baggageman, somewhere,
Remembering Saturn's face and foppish air.
278
At last he seemed to lose it altogether
Upon the Mississippi; where he stayed
His course at Memphis, undecided whether
He should go back or forward. Here he strayed
One afternoon along the esplanade
And high bluff of the river-fronting town,
To watch the boats and see the sun go down.
Upon the Mississippi; where he stayed
His course at Memphis, undecided whether
He should go back or forward. Here he strayed
One afternoon along the esplanade
And high bluff of the river-fronting town,
To watch the boats and see the sun go down.
The lyric fit had left him; but the sight
Of the strong river sweeping vast and slow,
Gleaming far off, a flood of crimson light;
And, darkly hung between it and the glow
Of a most lovely sunset sky, the low,
Interminable forests of Arkansas,
Might have inspired some very pretty stanzas.
Of the strong river sweeping vast and slow,
Gleaming far off, a flood of crimson light;
And, darkly hung between it and the glow
Of a most lovely sunset sky, the low,
Interminable forests of Arkansas,
Might have inspired some very pretty stanzas.
The esplanade looks down upon the landing,
A broadly shelving bank, well-trodden and bare,
Called by a singular misunderstanding
The levee,—while there is no levee there;
The famous landing at New Orleans, where
There is one, having fixed the name forever
For that and other landings on the river.
A broadly shelving bank, well-trodden and bare,
Called by a singular misunderstanding
The levee,—while there is no levee there;
The famous landing at New Orleans, where
There is one, having fixed the name forever
For that and other landings on the river.
279
Acres of merchandise, of cotton-bales,
And bales of hay, awaiting transportation;
Ploughs, household goods, and kegs of rum or nails,
Endless supplies for village and plantation,
Enclosed a scene of wondrous animation,
Of outcry and apparent wild confusion
Contrasting with the sunset's soft illusion;—
And bales of hay, awaiting transportation;
Ploughs, household goods, and kegs of rum or nails,
Endless supplies for village and plantation,
Enclosed a scene of wondrous animation,
Of outcry and apparent wild confusion
Contrasting with the sunset's soft illusion;—
The steamers lying broadside to the stream,
With delicately pillared decks, the clang
Of bells, the uproar of escaping steam;
There, tugging at some heavy rope, the gang
Of slaves that all together swayed and sang,
Their voices rising in a wild, rich chime,
To which lithe forms and lithe black arms kept time;
With delicately pillared decks, the clang
Of bells, the uproar of escaping steam;
There, tugging at some heavy rope, the gang
Of slaves that all together swayed and sang,
Their voices rising in a wild, rich chime,
To which lithe forms and lithe black arms kept time;
The shouts of negro-drivers, droves of mules,
Driven in their turn by madly yelling blacks;
Chairs, tables, kitchen-ware and farming-tools,
Carts, wagons, barrels, boxes, bales, and sacks,
Pushed, hauled, rolled, tumbled, tossed, or borne on backs
Of files of men, across the ways of plank
Between the loading steamers and the bank!
Driven in their turn by madly yelling blacks;
Chairs, tables, kitchen-ware and farming-tools,
Carts, wagons, barrels, boxes, bales, and sacks,
Pushed, hauled, rolled, tumbled, tossed, or borne on backs
Of files of men, across the ways of plank
Between the loading steamers and the bank!
280
Then as the sunlight faded from the stream,
And deepening shadows cooled the upper air,
The waves were lighted by the lurid gleam
Of flambeaux that began to smoke and flare,
And cast a picturesque and ruddy glare
On shore and boats and men of every hue—
Among the rest, a face that Robert knew.
And deepening shadows cooled the upper air,
The waves were lighted by the lurid gleam
Of flambeaux that began to smoke and flare,
And cast a picturesque and ruddy glare
On shore and boats and men of every hue—
Among the rest, a face that Robert knew.
III.
He had strolled down upon the bank to note
The arrival of a steamer and await
The travellers disembarking from the boat;
When from the gangway, on through rows of freight,
In the red glare advanced that face of fate,—
Swart features of the alert and powerful sort,
Although a dandy's: Saturn's face, in short.
The arrival of a steamer and await
The travellers disembarking from the boat;
When from the gangway, on through rows of freight,
In the red glare advanced that face of fate,—
Swart features of the alert and powerful sort,
Although a dandy's: Saturn's face, in short.
Lorne's heart leaped to his lips, and he was tempted
To clutch the rascal without more ado,—
A rather risky feat to have attempted,
For Saturn was the stouter of the two;
And always 'tis a thing that you will rue,
So to unmask your purpose, unprepared
To close and finish with the game you 've scared.
To clutch the rascal without more ado,—
A rather risky feat to have attempted,
For Saturn was the stouter of the two;
And always 'tis a thing that you will rue,
So to unmask your purpose, unprepared
To close and finish with the game you 've scared.
281
He looked for Vernon: Saturn came alone,
Bearing a light portmanteau, which he flung
At a black coachman; whose white eyeballs shone
And ivories grinned, as off he marched among
The less distinguished drivers, open swung
His carriage door, and dashed it to again,
Then perched upon his box with whip and rein:
Bearing a light portmanteau, which he flung
At a black coachman; whose white eyeballs shone
And ivories grinned, as off he marched among
The less distinguished drivers, open swung
His carriage door, and dashed it to again,
Then perched upon his box with whip and rein:
Saturn inside and Lorne on foot without!
Here was a crisis: what was to be done?
No moment to be wasted in weak doubt:
Follow he must,—but should he ride or run?
There were the drivers: he selected one,
And straightway mounted with him to his seat:
Money makes coachmen kind and horses fleet.
Here was a crisis: what was to be done?
No moment to be wasted in weak doubt:
Follow he must,—but should he ride or run?
There were the drivers: he selected one,
And straightway mounted with him to his seat:
Money makes coachmen kind and horses fleet.
'Mid drays and piles of freight their way they find.
“What street, my friend?”—“Follow that coach!”—“All right!”
The glare of flambeaux quickly fades behind,
And through the suburbs, on into the night
(Keeping the coach they followed well in sight),
With rattling speed (the ways were dim and rough),
They bowled along the summit of the bluff.
“What street, my friend?”—“Follow that coach!”—“All right!”
The glare of flambeaux quickly fades behind,
And through the suburbs, on into the night
(Keeping the coach they followed well in sight),
With rattling speed (the ways were dim and rough),
They bowled along the summit of the bluff.
282
The mighty river glimmered far below,
Soon lost to view; while on the other hand,
Just breaking from the horizon, looming slow,
The red moon, burning like a red bright brand,
Far over misty levels of dim land
And scattered roofs and gardens shone, and showed
The forward coach drawn up beside the road.
Soon lost to view; while on the other hand,
Just breaking from the horizon, looming slow,
The red moon, burning like a red bright brand,
Far over misty levels of dim land
And scattered roofs and gardens shone, and showed
The forward coach drawn up beside the road.
IV.
With columned front and roof of gleaming slate,
A dim house stood half hid in trees, surrounded
By a high wall. Before a high close gate,
Down from his box the dandy's coachman bounded,
And pulled a bell, whose iron clangor sounded
Hollow within: then straightway open flew
The double panels, while the coach drove through;
A dim house stood half hid in trees, surrounded
By a high wall. Before a high close gate,
Down from his box the dandy's coachman bounded,
And pulled a bell, whose iron clangor sounded
Hollow within: then straightway open flew
The double panels, while the coach drove through;
And closed again behind with sullen clank,
Just as the second coach drove slowly by,—
Shutting their ponderous jaws of bolted plank
Forbiddingly; appearing to defy
Alike marauding force and prying eye.
Then with the brightening moonlight seemed to fall
A deep mysterious silence over all.
Just as the second coach drove slowly by,—
Shutting their ponderous jaws of bolted plank
Forbiddingly; appearing to defy
Alike marauding force and prying eye.
Then with the brightening moonlight seemed to fall
A deep mysterious silence over all.
283
Thought Lorne, “I 've tracked the devil to his den!—
What house is that?”—The driver turned to stare,
(One of your dry, deliberative men,
With a wise drawl), and answered with an air
Of cautious candor: “Friend, you have me there!
That house has got a sort of secret history,—
Leastwise a curious nickname—‘Castle Mystery.’”
What house is that?”—The driver turned to stare,
(One of your dry, deliberative men,
With a wise drawl), and answered with an air
Of cautious candor: “Friend, you have me there!
That house has got a sort of secret history,—
Leastwise a curious nickname—‘Castle Mystery.’”
V.
“Who owns the place?”—“That 's more than I can tell.
Most of the time nobody but an old,
Queer cove ties up here; while the master—well,
Just there comes in the mystery; I 've been told
He practises the art of making gold.
He spends a powerful heap when he 's away;
That gone, he comes and makes some more, they say.”
Most of the time nobody but an old,
Queer cove ties up here; while the master—well,
Just there comes in the mystery; I 've been told
He practises the art of making gold.
He spends a powerful heap when he 's away;
That gone, he comes and makes some more, they say.”
“But that 's a foolish fable!”—“Yes, of course;
Some sort of counterfeiting game, perhaps;
Unnatural stories have some natural source.
The old man helps; he keeps the tools and traps;—
Beats all your deep philosophizing chaps!
Doctor, he 's called: he may be: but the fact is,
He 's all gone up and run to seed in practice.
Some sort of counterfeiting game, perhaps;
Unnatural stories have some natural source.
The old man helps; he keeps the tools and traps;—
Beats all your deep philosophizing chaps!
Doctor, he 's called: he may be: but the fact is,
He 's all gone up and run to seed in practice.
284
“He has a room and shop plumb full of books,
Vials and things; and studies day and night,
And tries experiments, until he looks
Dazed, like an owl that 's brought too near the light:
Keeps that black coachman, and one servant,—white;
And now and then there comes a strutting fellow
That 's neither black nor white, but mongrel yellow.
Vials and things; and studies day and night,
And tries experiments, until he looks
Dazed, like an owl that 's brought too near the light:
Keeps that black coachman, and one servant,—white;
And now and then there comes a strutting fellow
That 's neither black nor white, but mongrel yellow.
“He 's in the coach there now—or was. Some say
He owns the place. That 's their imagination;
And all because he has a pompous way,
As if he had a mortgage on Creation
In his breast-pocket. That 's my observation.
I 've seen him come and go, and then—it 's queer!
Sometimes he won't be round here for a year.
He owns the place. That 's their imagination;
And all because he has a pompous way,
As if he had a mortgage on Creation
In his breast-pocket. That 's my observation.
I 've seen him come and go, and then—it 's queer!
Sometimes he won't be round here for a year.
“Well, no; I never had the luck to see
The master,—he keeps mighty close, somehow.
He 's the last person you would take to be
A rogue, by what they tell me. I allow,
He 's at his business in the house there now;—
He hates it bad enough, but has to do it,
As if some fate or devil drove him to it.”
The master,—he keeps mighty close, somehow.
He 's the last person you would take to be
A rogue, by what they tell me. I allow,
He 's at his business in the house there now;—
He hates it bad enough, but has to do it,
As if some fate or devil drove him to it.”
285
Lorne sought in vain the root of this uncouth,
Fabulous story. Error is a vine,
A parasite upon the tree of Truth,
About whose modest stem its own malign,
Luxurious branches sometimes twist and twine,
Until it seems a hopeless task to single
The true from false, their boughs so mix and mingle.
Fabulous story. Error is a vine,
A parasite upon the tree of Truth,
About whose modest stem its own malign,
Luxurious branches sometimes twist and twine,
Until it seems a hopeless task to single
The true from false, their boughs so mix and mingle.
VI.
Back by the house they drove. An open field
Adjoined the “Castle” grounds, and bounded all.
Eager to see what its gray stones concealed,
Lorne rode into the shadow of the wall,
Rose to his feet, and—being somewhat tall—
Looked over, while his heart beat high and fast,
Into Guy Vernon's strange retreat at last;
Adjoined the “Castle” grounds, and bounded all.
Eager to see what its gray stones concealed,
Lorne rode into the shadow of the wall,
Rose to his feet, and—being somewhat tall—
Looked over, while his heart beat high and fast,
Into Guy Vernon's strange retreat at last;
Nearing the scene of mystery with a thrill.
There lay the garden, half in shadow bound,
Half-silvered by the moonlight soft and still,
Slanting on tree and shrub and cultured ground,
Where many a path and peaceful alley wound;
All perfumed by the breath of early spring.
The tender bud and first sweet blossoming.
There lay the garden, half in shadow bound,
Half-silvered by the moonlight soft and still,
Slanting on tree and shrub and cultured ground,
Where many a path and peaceful alley wound;
All perfumed by the breath of early spring.
The tender bud and first sweet blossoming.
286
Before the quiet garden stood the solemn,
Pale-fronted mansion; its broad, silent mass
Projecting from quaint gable and pale column
A vast and shapeless shadow on the grass:
One warm, bright light behind tall doors of glass,
Which opened from a cheerful banquet-room
On the dark lawn and ray-besprinkled gloom.
Pale-fronted mansion; its broad, silent mass
Projecting from quaint gable and pale column
A vast and shapeless shadow on the grass:
One warm, bright light behind tall doors of glass,
Which opened from a cheerful banquet-room
On the dark lawn and ray-besprinkled gloom.
VII.
There, like the lord and master of the Castle,
A petty despot, at his meat and wine,
Alone, sat Saturn; while an abject vassal
Stood by to serve his dish and see him dine.
Lorne could even see the rings and trinkets shine,
As, blazing there in his own solitary
Magnificence, he ate, and sipped his sherry.
A petty despot, at his meat and wine,
Alone, sat Saturn; while an abject vassal
Stood by to serve his dish and see him dine.
Lorne could even see the rings and trinkets shine,
As, blazing there in his own solitary
Magnificence, he ate, and sipped his sherry.
Soon, having finished his repast, the Varlet
Wiped his mustache and gave the ends a pull;
Then set a smoking-cap of flaming scarlet,
With gorgeous tassels, on his carded wool;
Lit a cigar, and out upon the cool
Veranda stepped, while from the open door
His own burlesquing shadow stretched before.
Wiped his mustache and gave the ends a pull;
Then set a smoking-cap of flaming scarlet,
With gorgeous tassels, on his carded wool;
Lit a cigar, and out upon the cool
Veranda stepped, while from the open door
His own burlesquing shadow stretched before.
287
A base act Robert scorned; and when he saw
Saturn face towards him, all at once he thought
It would be highly proper to withdraw,—
Not just because he dreaded to be caught
Playing the spy; but to the ill-doer naught
Conduces more to virtuous reflection,
Than a good, startling prospect of detection.
Saturn face towards him, all at once he thought
It would be highly proper to withdraw,—
Not just because he dreaded to be caught
Playing the spy; but to the ill-doer naught
Conduces more to virtuous reflection,
Than a good, startling prospect of detection.
And yet there was a fearful fascination
In spying out the stronghold of the foe.
Had he not come with stern determination
To track, to watch, to circumvent, to know
The villain's plots, then strike some sudden blow
To rescue Vernon, or at least determine
The cause of his subjection to such vermin?
In spying out the stronghold of the foe.
Had he not come with stern determination
To track, to watch, to circumvent, to know
The villain's plots, then strike some sudden blow
To rescue Vernon, or at least determine
The cause of his subjection to such vermin?
He would have willingly become a pupil
Of Machiavel himself, but to enhance
Florinda's happiness; and should he scruple
To take advantage now of any chance
Which served his righteous purpose to advance?
It seemed as if the hand of mighty Nemesis
Had led him thus to the mysterious premises.
Of Machiavel himself, but to enhance
Florinda's happiness; and should he scruple
To take advantage now of any chance
Which served his righteous purpose to advance?
It seemed as if the hand of mighty Nemesis
Had led him thus to the mysterious premises.
288
He stooped in shadow, but did not retire:
Hand grasping wall, and trembling knee the coach,
He crouched; when from the Castle rose a dire,
Deep outcry of entreaty and reproach;
And, springing to his feet, he saw approach—
While Saturn turned with cool, sarcastic grin—
Florinda's husband, rushing from within!
Hand grasping wall, and trembling knee the coach,
He crouched; when from the Castle rose a dire,
Deep outcry of entreaty and reproach;
And, springing to his feet, he saw approach—
While Saturn turned with cool, sarcastic grin—
Florinda's husband, rushing from within!
VIII.
Guy Vernon, most astonishingly clad:
In leather apron, bare arms; on his head
A paper cap; in his right hand he had
A sort of ladle; features flushed and red,
As from a furnace whence he just had fled.
A lean, slight figure followed, with lank face,—
The little owl-eyed Doctor of the place.
In leather apron, bare arms; on his head
A paper cap; in his right hand he had
A sort of ladle; features flushed and red,
As from a furnace whence he just had fled.
A lean, slight figure followed, with lank face,—
The little owl-eyed Doctor of the place.
In tones of strong remonstrance and entreaty
Vernon addressed the Varlet; who stood by
Without a flicker of remorse or pity
In the cold, settled purpose of his eye,
And waved him back: then with a plaintive cry
To the freed slave knelt the subjected freeman,
The sad, fallen man to the exalted demon!
Vernon addressed the Varlet; who stood by
Without a flicker of remorse or pity
In the cold, settled purpose of his eye,
And waved him back: then with a plaintive cry
To the freed slave knelt the subjected freeman,
The sad, fallen man to the exalted demon!
289
For so it seemed to Lorne: which when he saw,
His fury he no longer could restrain.
Reckless of danger, dignity, or law,
Or how the outer world he should regain,
From coach to high wall-top he leaped amain,
Dropped down within,—a sheer ten-foot descent,—
And through the shaded shrubbery crashing went
His fury he no longer could restrain.
Reckless of danger, dignity, or law,
Or how the outer world he should regain,
From coach to high wall-top he leaped amain,
Dropped down within,—a sheer ten-foot descent,—
And through the shaded shrubbery crashing went
To lawn, veranda, and wide-open casement;
And stood, one fiery pulse from head to foot,
Before the Varlet turning with amazement,
Guy Vernon staggering back irresolute,
And the lean Doctor blinking pale and mute;
While his astonished coachman, at the wall,
Peered over in blank wonder at it all.
And stood, one fiery pulse from head to foot,
Before the Varlet turning with amazement,
Guy Vernon staggering back irresolute,
And the lean Doctor blinking pale and mute;
While his astonished coachman, at the wall,
Peered over in blank wonder at it all.
Lorne eagerly reached forth his hand for Guy's:
“Vernon! my friend!”—But Saturn, all serene,
Having recovered from his first surprise,
With a polite “Excuse me!” stepped between:
“I do not know you, sir!” with courteous mien
Barring the way. “My Master is engaged.”
Whereat Lorne opened on him, all enraged.
“Vernon! my friend!”—But Saturn, all serene,
Having recovered from his first surprise,
With a polite “Excuse me!” stepped between:
“I do not know you, sir!” with courteous mien
Barring the way. “My Master is engaged.”
Whereat Lorne opened on him, all enraged.
290
“I know you, Alexander,—Dandy Sam—
Saturn or Satan,—what's your name? no matter!”
The Varlet made his wonderful salaam,
And quirked his eyebrows with a leer: “You flatter!”
Preventing still Lorne's progress; while the latter
Called vainly after Guy,—who shrank away
In sad confusion,—charging him to stay.
Saturn or Satan,—what's your name? no matter!”
The Varlet made his wonderful salaam,
And quirked his eyebrows with a leer: “You flatter!”
Preventing still Lorne's progress; while the latter
Called vainly after Guy,—who shrank away
In sad confusion,—charging him to stay.
“I 've come for you—I will not go without you!
Think of Florinda!—all shall yet be well!
What is this net which they have woven about you?
Where is your manhood? Break this hideous spell!”
And Lorne, regardless of a spring and yell
From Saturn, made a dash, the table cleared—
Too late! already Guy had disappeared.
Think of Florinda!—all shall yet be well!
What is this net which they have woven about you?
Where is your manhood? Break this hideous spell!”
And Lorne, regardless of a spring and yell
From Saturn, made a dash, the table cleared—
Too late! already Guy had disappeared.
With him, the Doctor; and behind them both
The obsequious servant had secured the door.
Lorne turned on Saturn; with a thrilling oath,
And look more threatening than his speech, he swore
Not to depart from out that house before
He had conferred with Vernon. “Then I fear
You will stay late!” said Saturn with a leer.
The obsequious servant had secured the door.
Lorne turned on Saturn; with a thrilling oath,
And look more threatening than his speech, he swore
Not to depart from out that house before
He had conferred with Vernon. “Then I fear
You will stay late!” said Saturn with a leer.
291
“You cannot turn me out—I will not stir!
I am commissioned by his injured wife;
And I will take her husband back to her,
Or make you a frank present of my life!”
And, all unarmed, Lorne looked full-armed for strife.
There was a moment's awkward silence; then
The lordly Saturn was himself again.
I am commissioned by his injured wife;
And I will take her husband back to her,
Or make you a frank present of my life!”
And, all unarmed, Lorne looked full-armed for strife.
There was a moment's awkward silence; then
The lordly Saturn was himself again.
X.
He turned magnificently to his henchman,—
Who seemed, in vulgar terms, a sort of cook
And general waiting-man; a stocky Frenchman,
Servile, alert, intelligent; who took
His orders from a signal or a look,
And vanished. Saturn blandly smiled. “You 're right!
You shall be satisfied this very night!
Who seemed, in vulgar terms, a sort of cook
And general waiting-man; a stocky Frenchman,
Servile, alert, intelligent; who took
His orders from a signal or a look,
And vanished. Saturn blandly smiled. “You 're right!
You shall be satisfied this very night!
“Be seated!”—with elaborate politeness.
“You shall be welcome as the lady's friend.
I'm sorry that she questions my uprightness:
You share her prejudice, I apprehend!—
Here 's some refreshment I can recommend.”
The nimble Frenchman placed upon the table
A bottle with an interesting label;
“You shall be welcome as the lady's friend.
I'm sorry that she questions my uprightness:
You share her prejudice, I apprehend!—
Here 's some refreshment I can recommend.”
The nimble Frenchman placed upon the table
A bottle with an interesting label;
292
And poured a glass, which Lorne declined. “No harm, sir!”
Said Saturn with a smile. “I know my place;
So there is no occasion for alarm, sir;
I am too well aware of the disgrace
For gentlemen of your superior race
To drink and fellowship with one of mine.
But there 's no taint of color in the wine!”
Said Saturn with a smile. “I know my place;
So there is no occasion for alarm, sir;
I am too well aware of the disgrace
For gentlemen of your superior race
To drink and fellowship with one of mine.
But there 's no taint of color in the wine!”
XI.
Which sarcasm made Lorne wince. He was a man
Who hated from his heart all tyranny
Of artificial caste and social ban;
In broad, imaginative sympathy
A poet; for, however they may be
Wanting in social manners and urbanity,
Poets are all for freedom and humanity.
Who hated from his heart all tyranny
Of artificial caste and social ban;
In broad, imaginative sympathy
A poet; for, however they may be
Wanting in social manners and urbanity,
Poets are all for freedom and humanity.
“That you have been a servant, or in slavery,
Or have a colored skin,” he cried, “who cares?
Not I! But I have small respect for knavery,
Foppish magnificence and insolent airs!”
At which plain English Saturn grins and glares.
“You 're frank! But 'tis just possible that you
May not see all things, from your point of view.
Or have a colored skin,” he cried, “who cares?
Not I! But I have small respect for knavery,
Foppish magnificence and insolent airs!”
At which plain English Saturn grins and glares.
“You 're frank! But 'tis just possible that you
May not see all things, from your point of view.
293
“What you have called my knavery, in your haste—
Of that there 's something more for you to know.
Then please set down to differences of taste,
And my unhappy race's love of show,
Much of the foppery that disgusts you so;
And it may be the insolence you 've noticed
Is just a proud but ignorant person's protest
Of that there 's something more for you to know.
Then please set down to differences of taste,
And my unhappy race's love of show,
Much of the foppery that disgusts you so;
And it may be the insolence you 've noticed
Is just a proud but ignorant person's protest
“Against injustice which would keep him under,—
Too violent a rebound of self-respect.
That I am what I am, is no great wonder:
No fine advantages, please recollect,
Of birth and education.” Which direct
And simple speech took Robert by surprise,
And brought a curious twinkle to his eyes.
Too violent a rebound of self-respect.
That I am what I am, is no great wonder:
No fine advantages, please recollect,
Of birth and education.” Which direct
And simple speech took Robert by surprise,
And brought a curious twinkle to his eyes.
“That Mr. Vernon's lady deemed that I
Was his bad genius, I was well aware.
But it was not convenient to deny
What none the less was somewhat hard to bear.
No doubt I 've acted strangely in the affair;
But I have been no more the evil cause,
Than whirlwinds are produced by whirling straws.
Was his bad genius, I was well aware.
But it was not convenient to deny
What none the less was somewhat hard to bear.
No doubt I 've acted strangely in the affair;
But I have been no more the evil cause,
Than whirlwinds are produced by whirling straws.
294
“And neither is my master a great villain:
Our weak point lies in his too strict veracity.
With something to conceal, he was not willing
To use a little innocent mendacity,—
Of which I have perhaps a small capacity;
Enough to have invented some slight fiction,
Which would have saved his lady much affliction.
Our weak point lies in his too strict veracity.
With something to conceal, he was not willing
To use a little innocent mendacity,—
Of which I have perhaps a small capacity;
Enough to have invented some slight fiction,
Which would have saved his lady much affliction.
“Don't think my influence over him lies solely
In his great fear to have his trouble known.
For thirty years, sir, he has trusted wholly
To my fidelity: I am proud to own,
That in our boyhood, before he had grown
Familiar with misfortune and disaster,
I was his servant, he my little master.
In his great fear to have his trouble known.
For thirty years, sir, he has trusted wholly
To my fidelity: I am proud to own,
That in our boyhood, before he had grown
Familiar with misfortune and disaster,
I was his servant, he my little master.
“Then when affliction came, our ties were closer.
I shared his fortunes; sleeping or awake,
I was his chosen attendant. You must know, sir,
The ancient family honor was at stake.
There was no sacrifice they would not make—
Honest device they would not try—to hide
The stain upon the old Virginia pride.
I shared his fortunes; sleeping or awake,
I was his chosen attendant. You must know, sir,
The ancient family honor was at stake.
There was no sacrifice they would not make—
Honest device they would not try—to hide
The stain upon the old Virginia pride.
295
“With Master Guy himself the constant dread
Of an exposure had become a steady
Motive and habit, when at last it led
To the deception practised on his lady.
We hoped,—and he believed—that he already
Had passed the crisis,—that his chains were broken.”
Lorne started wonderingly, and would have spoken.
Of an exposure had become a steady
Motive and habit, when at last it led
To the deception practised on his lady.
We hoped,—and he believed—that he already
Had passed the crisis,—that his chains were broken.”
Lorne started wonderingly, and would have spoken.
Saturn proceeded: “Since you 've found us here,
And got some partial facts in your possession,
And are the lady's agent, and appear
A gentleman of sense and good discretion,
I shall go on and make a frank confession
Of the main circumstance—which you have guessed?—
Then we shall make short business with the rest.
And got some partial facts in your possession,
And are the lady's agent, and appear
A gentleman of sense and good discretion,
I shall go on and make a frank confession
Of the main circumstance—which you have guessed?—
Then we shall make short business with the rest.
“This place was fitted for his occupation,
At my suggestion, and with his consent.
Then, when he felt the first faint intimation,—
The coming of the terrible event,—
To keep his secret he was well content
To fly with me, and in this shelter wait
Until the storm was over. But of late,
At my suggestion, and with his consent.
Then, when he felt the first faint intimation,—
The coming of the terrible event,—
To keep his secret he was well content
To fly with me, and in this shelter wait
Until the storm was over. But of late,
296
“Love for his lady, fear to do her wrong,
And hope that still the shadow might pass by,
Has caused my master to delay too long.
But, though I was not pleasing to her eye,
Which had to be avoided, I was nigh,
And watched him close, and when all hope was past,
Of his improvement, brought him off at last.
And hope that still the shadow might pass by,
Has caused my master to delay too long.
But, though I was not pleasing to her eye,
Which had to be avoided, I was nigh,
And watched him close, and when all hope was past,
Of his improvement, brought him off at last.
“Our Doctor was the family physician;
Under his charge my master first was placed.
Then he was offered here, in this position,
Advantages he readily embraced;
Where undisturbed he can indulge his taste
For chemistry, until some fresh attack
Of the disorder brings his patient back.
Under his charge my master first was placed.
Then he was offered here, in this position,
Advantages he readily embraced;
Where undisturbed he can indulge his taste
For chemistry, until some fresh attack
Of the disorder brings his patient back.
“'Tis now twelve years since my old master died,
And left him and his fortune to my care.
The mother went before. We have three tried
And faithful servants, who would neither dare
To tell his secret, nor to hurt a hair
Of that dear head!” Here, winking hard, the dandy,
With a fierce gulp, tossed off a glass of brandy.
And left him and his fortune to my care.
The mother went before. We have three tried
And faithful servants, who would neither dare
To tell his secret, nor to hurt a hair
Of that dear head!” Here, winking hard, the dandy,
With a fierce gulp, tossed off a glass of brandy.
297
“I showed some rudeness, which you'll please excuse.
An ignorant man is liable to err.
Now shall you care to see him? As you choose.
In any case, I do not fancy, sir,
That you will wish to take him back to her!
The thing has gone so far, though, I suppose
It will perhaps be better if she knows.
An ignorant man is liable to err.
Now shall you care to see him? As you choose.
In any case, I do not fancy, sir,
That you will wish to take him back to her!
The thing has gone so far, though, I suppose
It will perhaps be better if she knows.
“Sometimes for several years he is exempt;
Then the old indications: first, a strange
Irritability; then perhaps the attempt
To hide even from himself the coming change
In a forced gayety; then the symptoms range
From moody melancholy and fitful sadness
To deep despondency and downright madness!
Then the old indications: first, a strange
Irritability; then perhaps the attempt
To hide even from himself the coming change
In a forced gayety; then the symptoms range
From moody melancholy and fitful sadness
To deep despondency and downright madness!
“Quite harmless; often fancies he is poor,
But that he has the art of making gold.
Indulgence is the surest way to cure
His whims; and 'tis a comfort to behold
Even a poor madman flattered and consoled.
But when he knelt to-night and begged for snow
To make some silver, I had none to show.”
But that he has the art of making gold.
Indulgence is the surest way to cure
His whims; and 'tis a comfort to behold
Even a poor madman flattered and consoled.
But when he knelt to-night and begged for snow
To make some silver, I had none to show.”
298
XII.
So Saturn told his story; and 'tis time
Mine, too, were ended,—which so far has strayed,
Winding along the indented shores of rhyme,
In many an idle pool and eddy played.—
Lorne did not keep the promise he had made,
But all alone, and sorrowful, and late,
That night, took his departure by the gate.
Mine, too, were ended,—which so far has strayed,
Winding along the indented shores of rhyme,
In many an idle pool and eddy played.—
Lorne did not keep the promise he had made,
But all alone, and sorrowful, and late,
That night, took his departure by the gate.
To know the worst is better than long doubt,
The slow, consuming fever of suspense.
Therefore, when Lorne had traced the mystery out,
And to Florinda bore the news, a sense
Of soothing respite followed long, intense
Horror and dread, and speedily allayed
The anguish of the wound the sharp truth made.
The slow, consuming fever of suspense.
Therefore, when Lorne had traced the mystery out,
And to Florinda bore the news, a sense
Of soothing respite followed long, intense
Horror and dread, and speedily allayed
The anguish of the wound the sharp truth made.
That some remorse for her unjust suspicion
Of Saturn stung her, cannot be denied.
Then came a message sent by Guy's physician;
And questions rose of duty, love, and pride,
Which Robert nobly helped her to decide;
And soon she made a journey,—by her presence
To cheer Guy Vernon in his convalescence.
Of Saturn stung her, cannot be denied.
Then came a message sent by Guy's physician;
And questions rose of duty, love, and pride,
Which Robert nobly helped her to decide;
And soon she made a journey,—by her presence
To cheer Guy Vernon in his convalescence.
299
The wise, who would expel a spectral thing
That haunts the chambers of the lonely mind,
Invite sweet sound and sight of birds that sing,
And flowers and winds and heavenly beams, to find
Freely their way through wide-flung door and blind,
And pure affections, an angelic host,
To fill the rooms and drive away the ghost.
That haunts the chambers of the lonely mind,
Invite sweet sound and sight of birds that sing,
And flowers and winds and heavenly beams, to find
Freely their way through wide-flung door and blind,
And pure affections, an angelic host,
To fill the rooms and drive away the ghost.
The truth was known; and terror of discovery
Swayed Vernon's soul no more as in the past;
And for his mind a more complete recovery
And perfect cure seemed possible at last.
The cloudy future now was clearing fast,
And would have brought in brighter days, no doubt,
When our unlucky civil war broke out.
Swayed Vernon's soul no more as in the past;
And for his mind a more complete recovery
And perfect cure seemed possible at last.
The cloudy future now was clearing fast,
And would have brought in brighter days, no doubt,
When our unlucky civil war broke out.
There, where the treasure is, the heart will be:
Guy Vernon's bride was northern; his estates
And many slaves were in the South; and he,
Having in vain withstood the fiery fates
That strove to rend the covenant of States,
Went with his own, and helped to fight their battles,
To save his cotton, cane, and human chattels.
Guy Vernon's bride was northern; his estates
And many slaves were in the South; and he,
Having in vain withstood the fiery fates
That strove to rend the covenant of States,
Went with his own, and helped to fight their battles,
To save his cotton, cane, and human chattels.
300
His lands were overrun, his slaves were freed,
The cause was lost he struggled to defend,
And poor Florinda wore a widow's weed!
And now no doubt you think the lover friend
Steps in to give our tale a happy end.
But truth is truth; and when the news was carried
To Lorne at last, he had been three years married.
The cause was lost he struggled to defend,
And poor Florinda wore a widow's weed!
And now no doubt you think the lover friend
Steps in to give our tale a happy end.
But truth is truth; and when the news was carried
To Lorne at last, he had been three years married.
XIII.
Not his the queen of wit, or star of beauty,
Dazzling beholders, but a pearl more precious,
Set in the sacred ring of daily duty;
Not vast domain, but something far more spacious;
Nor great renown; yet Fortune has been gracious,
And to requite his simple faith has sent
The all-enclosing freehold of Content.
Dazzling beholders, but a pearl more precious,
Set in the sacred ring of daily duty;
Not vast domain, but something far more spacious;
Nor great renown; yet Fortune has been gracious,
And to requite his simple faith has sent
The all-enclosing freehold of Content.
Smiles of affection keep his fireside bright,
Around his heart light-footed cherubs dance:
Love and the Muse make labor a delight,
The spirit blithe, and sweet the countenance.
Books he has printed, essay, song, romance;
And now—the latest venture of them all—
He publishes a novel in the fall.
Around his heart light-footed cherubs dance:
Love and the Muse make labor a delight,
The spirit blithe, and sweet the countenance.
Books he has printed, essay, song, romance;
And now—the latest venture of them all—
He publishes a novel in the fall.
301
O critic of his little book! I hope
You will not prove of that pedantic class
Who view defects as through a telescope;
But when they see a modest merit pass,
Smile, shrug, look doubtful, and reverse the glass,
Then swear the object is so very small
As scarcely to be visible at all.
You will not prove of that pedantic class
Who view defects as through a telescope;
But when they see a modest merit pass,
Smile, shrug, look doubtful, and reverse the glass,
Then swear the object is so very small
As scarcely to be visible at all.
And take this counsel kindly as I mean it:
In your reviews, don't hasten to disclose
The story's plot,—before the world has seen it,
Pulling to pieces one's poor little rose!
But let its readers—ere the volume goes
To the oblivion of their upper shelves—
Pluck out its little mystery for themselves.
In your reviews, don't hasten to disclose
The story's plot,—before the world has seen it,
Pulling to pieces one's poor little rose!
But let its readers—ere the volume goes
To the oblivion of their upper shelves—
Pluck out its little mystery for themselves.
| [Poems by Trowbridge in] A masque of poets | |