[Poems by Trowbridge in] A masque of poets Including Guy Vernon, a novelette in verse |
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| 3. | PART III.
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. |
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 | [Poems by Trowbridge in] A masque of poets |  |
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3. PART III.
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.
I.
Foreseeing all her friends' immense astonishment,
Going to meet it with an equal dread,
Florinda gave her maid a strict admonishment
Just what to say, and what to leave unsaid,
To questions soon to shower upon her head;
For, first suspicions having proved unjust,
The girl was granted all the greater trust.
Going to meet it with an equal dread,
Florinda gave her maid a strict admonishment
Just what to say, and what to leave unsaid,
To questions soon to shower upon her head;
For, first suspicions having proved unjust,
The girl was granted all the greater trust.
Deep was the dear old Aunt's amazement, meeting
At the hall door the unexpected bride.
Then, having passed the first tumultuous greeting,
“Your husband, Florie! where is he?” she cried,
Still more bewildered; while the niece replied,
“Some sudden and important information
Obliged him to return by his plantation.”
At the hall door the unexpected bride.
Then, having passed the first tumultuous greeting,
“Your husband, Florie! where is he?” she cried,
Still more bewildered; while the niece replied,
“Some sudden and important information
Obliged him to return by his plantation.”
225
“Without his bride!” “Why, Aunt, 'twas getting late—
'Twas not thought best that I should risk my health.
The owner of so splendid an estate
Of course is burdened with the cares of wealth.
In politics he mixes too—by stealth;
For he is quite above those sordid natures
That fill our congresses and legislatures.
'Twas not thought best that I should risk my health.
The owner of so splendid an estate
Of course is burdened with the cares of wealth.
In politics he mixes too—by stealth;
For he is quite above those sordid natures
That fill our congresses and legislatures.
“We came directly by the boat—so pleasant!
I missed my dearest husband, I confess,
But—O dear Aunt! who do you think was present
Among the passengers? You cannot guess!
Surely there 's no one I expected less
To see on board than Mr. Robert Lorne!
He treated me at first with downright scorn,
I missed my dearest husband, I confess,
But—O dear Aunt! who do you think was present
Among the passengers? You cannot guess!
Surely there 's no one I expected less
To see on board than Mr. Robert Lorne!
He treated me at first with downright scorn,
“As if I'd really done him some great evil.
I could not speak to him, and why should he seek
An interview? But he at length grew civil,
And sent his brandy-flask when I was sea-sick,
(The lightest gale is certain to make me sick!)
An offer which I couldn't well refuse,
Though brandy's something which I never use.
I could not speak to him, and why should he seek
An interview? But he at length grew civil,
And sent his brandy-flask when I was sea-sick,
(The lightest gale is certain to make me sick!)
An offer which I couldn't well refuse,
Though brandy's something which I never use.
226
“We had two days of most distressing weather!
I could have envied martyrs on the rack.
I do not think I cared a pin's weight whether
I lived or died!—I'm so glad to get back!
Robert was kind, and helped us to a hack;
Of course I had to ask the man to call,
Or show him no civility at all.”
I could have envied martyrs on the rack.
I do not think I cared a pin's weight whether
I lived or died!—I'm so glad to get back!
Robert was kind, and helped us to a hack;
Of course I had to ask the man to call,
Or show him no civility at all.”
Truth, every word; though it perhaps may strike
The reader as too gingerly expressed.
Women and Truth, I find, depend alike,
For their effect, upon the way they 're dressed.
I like for both a simple garment best;
But nothing can exceed a woman's tact
In fancy-dressing both herself and Fact.
The reader as too gingerly expressed.
Women and Truth, I find, depend alike,
For their effect, upon the way they 're dressed.
I like for both a simple garment best;
But nothing can exceed a woman's tact
In fancy-dressing both herself and Fact.
Do not too hastily infer that woman
Is guilty of downright equivocation.
It is not only feminine, but human,
To modify by phrase and intonation
Truth's simple theme, till, through the variation
Sometimes embroidered on the homely air,
You hardly guess what good old tune is there.
Is guilty of downright equivocation.
It is not only feminine, but human,
To modify by phrase and intonation
Truth's simple theme, till, through the variation
Sometimes embroidered on the homely air,
You hardly guess what good old tune is there.
227
II.
The bride, whose coming was a nine-days' wonder,
Received in Brooklyn, where her court was held,
So many callers that they fairly stunned her;—
Not old friends only; but her train was swelled
By more whom love of novelty impelled,
And some who thought it worth their while to seek
The charming Mrs. Vernon for their clique.
Received in Brooklyn, where her court was held,
So many callers that they fairly stunned her;—
Not old friends only; but her train was swelled
By more whom love of novelty impelled,
And some who thought it worth their while to seek
The charming Mrs. Vernon for their clique.
With all the rest, but from a different motive,
Went Lorne,—and but a sad appearance made he.
So have I seen a worshipper with votive
Offerings approach some altar of Our Lady,
To find a crowd of tourists there already,
Airing their guide-books, venturing praise or stricture
Upon this sacred relic or that picture.
Went Lorne,—and but a sad appearance made he.
So have I seen a worshipper with votive
Offerings approach some altar of Our Lady,
To find a crowd of tourists there already,
Airing their guide-books, venturing praise or stricture
Upon this sacred relic or that picture.
The world soon wearies of a stale sensation;
And as the swift weeks came and went without
Bringing Guy Vernon back from his plantation,
People began to shake their heads, and doubt;
Till something of the secret had leaked out,
One scarce knows how: a little, I'm afraid,
Came through the indiscretion of the maid.
And as the swift weeks came and went without
Bringing Guy Vernon back from his plantation,
People began to shake their heads, and doubt;
Till something of the secret had leaked out,
One scarce knows how: a little, I'm afraid,
Came through the indiscretion of the maid.
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With Robert Lorne's, Florinda's name was coupled
In terms uncomplimentary to both.
And so discreet Society grew troubled:
'Twas shocked, distressed: it pitied her; 'twas loath
To think what had been told it under oath!
In short, it never, never could esteem her,
After her shameful conduct on the steamer!
In terms uncomplimentary to both.
And so discreet Society grew troubled:
'Twas shocked, distressed: it pitied her; 'twas loath
To think what had been told it under oath!
In short, it never, never could esteem her,
After her shameful conduct on the steamer!
“He followed her upon her wedding journey,
And there in Cuba showed her such devotion!
Vernon was out one day: on his return, he—
Well, all I know is, there was an explosion!
Just what the man discovered, I 've no notion;
I only say, he left her in Havana,
And hurried off next day to Louisiana,
And there in Cuba showed her such devotion!
Vernon was out one day: on his return, he—
Well, all I know is, there was an explosion!
Just what the man discovered, I 've no notion;
I only say, he left her in Havana,
And hurried off next day to Louisiana,
“Cursing, no doubt, the hour when he was wedded!”
Which was not white and stainless truth, we know,
But held some darker substances imbedded:
Just one of Rumor's rolling balls of snow,
That pick up sticks and rubbish as they go:
The farther they are rolled, the more they gather;
And suburbs are the place for rubbish, rather.
Which was not white and stainless truth, we know,
But held some darker substances imbedded:
Just one of Rumor's rolling balls of snow,
That pick up sticks and rubbish as they go:
The farther they are rolled, the more they gather;
And suburbs are the place for rubbish, rather.
229
This to Florinda was a fearful trial,
Added to that which secretly she bore;
For now no explanation, no denial,
Not truth itself, which might have served before,
Could kill reports, but only raise up more.
In fine, her double-burden so unfitted her
For life itself that you would quite have pitied her.
Added to that which secretly she bore;
For now no explanation, no denial,
Not truth itself, which might have served before,
Could kill reports, but only raise up more.
In fine, her double-burden so unfitted her
For life itself that you would quite have pitied her.
A common scandal is a borrowed tool
Passing from hand to hand, yet never losing
Its edge by any ordinary rule,
Battered and blunted by severe abusing;
But, like a cat's claw, it grows sharp with using;
Whose softer part wears faster from the friction,
Leaving the other keen, for your affliction.
Passing from hand to hand, yet never losing
Its edge by any ordinary rule,
Battered and blunted by severe abusing;
But, like a cat's claw, it grows sharp with using;
Whose softer part wears faster from the friction,
Leaving the other keen, for your affliction.
III.
No word from Vernon; though she wrote and pleaded
Until that rascal, Saturn, must have laughed!
Her love and grief remained alike unheeded:
But as each month came round, a princely draft
Shot at her heart its cruel golden shaft;
And in the very thickest of the slander
There came a note from “Samuel Alexander.”
Until that rascal, Saturn, must have laughed!
Her love and grief remained alike unheeded:
But as each month came round, a princely draft
Shot at her heart its cruel golden shaft;
And in the very thickest of the slander
There came a note from “Samuel Alexander.”
230
For so the Varlet signed himself; and truly,
A singular performance was this letter!
He begged to say that Mr. V. was duly
Regretful that he must remain her debtor
For correspondence until he was better:
He had been slightly ill of late; beside,
He was just then extremely occupied.
A singular performance was this letter!
He begged to say that Mr. V. was duly
Regretful that he must remain her debtor
For correspondence until he was better:
He had been slightly ill of late; beside,
He was just then extremely occupied.
“The business which has brought us here” (I quote
From Saturn's postscript) “is not yet quite ended.”
Again, in Postscript Number Two, he wrote:
“Be easy, Madam; he is well attended,
And, every thing considered, doing splendid!
Please, Madam, do not write again, but wait.”
The missive, I should mention, bore no date.
From Saturn's postscript) “is not yet quite ended.”
Again, in Postscript Number Two, he wrote:
“Be easy, Madam; he is well attended,
And, every thing considered, doing splendid!
Please, Madam, do not write again, but wait.”
The missive, I should mention, bore no date.
'Twas a distressing riddle: heart and brain
Were racked and puzzled by it many a day.
“He must be ill!”—but that did not explain
His parting from her in that cruel way,
His long, mysterious silence, and delay
On that strange business,—too much occupied
To write one line to his forsaken bride!
Were racked and puzzled by it many a day.
“He must be ill!”—but that did not explain
His parting from her in that cruel way,
His long, mysterious silence, and delay
On that strange business,—too much occupied
To write one line to his forsaken bride!
231
From her good Aunt she got but little solace,—
A woman of confirmed opinions, blest
With little patience for a young girl's follies;
Who doubted not her niece had lost the best,
Most generous, most devoted, handsomest
Of husbands, through her own infatuation;—
But deemed the monthly draft a consolation.
A woman of confirmed opinions, blest
With little patience for a young girl's follies;
Who doubted not her niece had lost the best,
Most generous, most devoted, handsomest
Of husbands, through her own infatuation;—
But deemed the monthly draft a consolation.
Friends do not like to own that ever any
Advice of theirs in any way was bad.
So in Florinda's circle there were many
Who, though the sequel to the match was sad,
Blamed her for all the ill success it had;
While others would not willingly admit
That ever they approved or counselled it.
Advice of theirs in any way was bad.
So in Florinda's circle there were many
Who, though the sequel to the match was sad,
Blamed her for all the ill success it had;
While others would not willingly admit
That ever they approved or counselled it.
The World, it may be said, dropped her acquaintance;
But there were those who could not keep away,—
Who came to witness suffering and repentance,
To talk the matter over every day,
To know just how she felt, what she would say:
So she had more than one friend who stuck by her,
Though something in the fashion of a brier.
But there were those who could not keep away,—
Who came to witness suffering and repentance,
To talk the matter over every day,
To know just how she felt, what she would say:
So she had more than one friend who stuck by her,
Though something in the fashion of a brier.
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IV.
For Lorne the starry skies of Love had brightened
When her full-mooned renown began to wane;
But soon the cloud of ill report had frightened
Both back to their discreet reserve again.
Hardly could he that stormy heart restrain,
Which sometimes drove him now—as if a very
Demon possessed him—down to Brooklyn ferry!
When her full-mooned renown began to wane;
But soon the cloud of ill report had frightened
Both back to their discreet reserve again.
Hardly could he that stormy heart restrain,
Which sometimes drove him now—as if a very
Demon possessed him—down to Brooklyn ferry!
It was his own imprudence that involved her
In this vile coil,—he thought with penitence.
How tenderly his own great love absolved her
Of every fault but that sweet confidence
Which proved to him her very innocence!
He burned to be her champion,—but forbore,
Knowing that he could only harm her more.
In this vile coil,—he thought with penitence.
How tenderly his own great love absolved her
Of every fault but that sweet confidence
Which proved to him her very innocence!
He burned to be her champion,—but forbore,
Knowing that he could only harm her more.
He plunged in work: his Southern notes he winnowed;
And, much as he a mean deception spurned,
In corresponding with the press, continued
To date from countries whence he had returned,
If he indeed had seen them; and so learned
The art—imaginative and dramatic—
Of writing foreign letters from an attic.
And, much as he a mean deception spurned,
In corresponding with the press, continued
To date from countries whence he had returned,
If he indeed had seen them; and so learned
The art—imaginative and dramatic—
Of writing foreign letters from an attic.
233
His friends averred that he could never gain
A handsome independence by his pen,
And marvelled why such genius should remain
A beggar in a barren garret, when
He might, like many far less able men,
Become a lawyer, or a politician,
And strike for office, fortune, and position.
A handsome independence by his pen,
And marvelled why such genius should remain
A beggar in a barren garret, when
He might, like many far less able men,
Become a lawyer, or a politician,
And strike for office, fortune, and position.
V.
His lodging overlooked, in the Metropolis,
A narrow business street, not over nice,
But unromantically over-populous;
Where, much against the aforesaid friends' advice,
He kept on writing at a moderate price,
Pieces pathetic, picturesque, or funny,
Which gained for him much credit, and some money.
A narrow business street, not over nice,
But unromantically over-populous;
Where, much against the aforesaid friends' advice,
He kept on writing at a moderate price,
Pieces pathetic, picturesque, or funny,
Which gained for him much credit, and some money.
One April afternoon, as he sat writing,
Buried in books and papers to the chin,
Where the high luthern window let the light in,
A hand—scarce heard above the incessant din
Of the loud street—tapped at his door. “Come in!”
He shouted out, in tones not over-civil,
Expecting no one but the printer's devil.
Buried in books and papers to the chin,
Where the high luthern window let the light in,
A hand—scarce heard above the incessant din
Of the loud street—tapped at his door. “Come in!”
He shouted out, in tones not over-civil,
Expecting no one but the printer's devil.
234
Then, too intently occupied to stop, he—
Still studying an unfinished period—
Over his shoulder reached a roll of copy,
Giving a little sidelong careless nod;
But thought the fellow's movements rather odd,—
Turned slowly,—gazed,—and just escaped capsizing
His loaded table in his hasty rising.
Still studying an unfinished period—
Over his shoulder reached a roll of copy,
Giving a little sidelong careless nod;
But thought the fellow's movements rather odd,—
Turned slowly,—gazed,—and just escaped capsizing
His loaded table in his hasty rising.
He stands and stammers, so confused and vexed is he
At his own awkward blunder;—but, O heaven!
What sudden joy, what thrilling, boundless ecstasy,
When from a woman's veil one glance is given,
And, like a panting fawn to covert driven,
Pale, with a look of exquisite concern on
Her fair, sweet face, behold—Florinda Vernon!
At his own awkward blunder;—but, O heaven!
What sudden joy, what thrilling, boundless ecstasy,
When from a woman's veil one glance is given,
And, like a panting fawn to covert driven,
Pale, with a look of exquisite concern on
Her fair, sweet face, behold—Florinda Vernon!
VI.
He sprang to meet her, eager hands outreaching
To clasp, to bless her; but as he came near,
She started from him with a strange, beseeching,
Wild look, in which there was a mingled fear.
“O Rob,” she cried, “I'm crazy to be here!
What would they now say if they only knew it!
I can't—myself—conceive what made me do it!
To clasp, to bless her; but as he came near,
She started from him with a strange, beseeching,
Wild look, in which there was a mingled fear.
“O Rob,” she cried, “I'm crazy to be here!
What would they now say if they only knew it!
I can't—myself—conceive what made me do it!
235
“I know you'll think me dreadfully immodest!—
O Rob! it isn't a mere girlish freak!”
But here she paused, being so tightly bodiced,
And out of breath from climbing stairs, and weak
From agitation, that she could not speak;
When seeing her grow faint and gasp for air,
He thought at last to offer her a chair.
O Rob! it isn't a mere girlish freak!”
But here she paused, being so tightly bodiced,
And out of breath from climbing stairs, and weak
From agitation, that she could not speak;
When seeing her grow faint and gasp for air,
He thought at last to offer her a chair.
Her maid, in his place, would have guessed the matter,
Have found her corset, and at once unlaced it.
But Rob could only stand there staring at her,
And bring some sherry, begging her to taste it;
Which she but touched, then on the table placed it;
And, having now recovered from her faintness,
Looked up at him and smiled with charming quaintness.
Have found her corset, and at once unlaced it.
But Rob could only stand there staring at her,
And bring some sherry, begging her to taste it;
Which she but touched, then on the table placed it;
And, having now recovered from her faintness,
Looked up at him and smiled with charming quaintness.
“This is a scene! I'm horribly ashamed!—
You must not blame me!”—quickly growing serious.
“I'm stifled!—O dear!—Robert,” she exclaimed,
“I 've come on business—something quite imperious;”
And, lest the lady's interlude should weary us,
We'll simply add that, while he sprang to get her
Some sort of fan, she pulled out Saturn's letter.
You must not blame me!”—quickly growing serious.
“I'm stifled!—O dear!—Robert,” she exclaimed,
“I 've come on business—something quite imperious;”
And, lest the lady's interlude should weary us,
We'll simply add that, while he sprang to get her
Some sort of fan, she pulled out Saturn's letter.
236
She talked to him about it while he read it,
Fanning herself incessantly, and weeping;
Told him of all she suffered, all she dreaded:
The mystery haunted her awake or sleeping;
And, O, it never could be solved! Then, leaping
To a most sudden, woman-like conclusion,
She begged, entreated him for a solution.
Fanning herself incessantly, and weeping;
Told him of all she suffered, all she dreaded:
The mystery haunted her awake or sleeping;
And, O, it never could be solved! Then, leaping
To a most sudden, woman-like conclusion,
She begged, entreated him for a solution.
VII.
“Well, looking at it in a business way,”
Said Lorne,—“as if I now first heard the tale,
And did not know the parties,—I should say
Guy Vernon was a felon, out on bail;
I think he 's now convicted, and in jail.
Summoned to trial under his indictment—
That 's what his strange despair and sudden flight meant,
Said Lorne,—“as if I now first heard the tale,
And did not know the parties,—I should say
Guy Vernon was a felon, out on bail;
I think he 's now convicted, and in jail.
Summoned to trial under his indictment—
That 's what his strange despair and sudden flight meant,
“When he had hoped to quash it, all the time.”
“O Rob, you do not think so!”—“Well, why not?
It may have been some gentlemanly crime—
A duel, and his adversary shot—
The southern blood, you know, is quick and hot.”
“No, no!” she cried, “that 's not like him! The duellist
Is of all men, I've heard him say, the cruelest!
“O Rob, you do not think so!”—“Well, why not?
It may have been some gentlemanly crime—
A duel, and his adversary shot—
The southern blood, you know, is quick and hot.”
“No, no!” she cried, “that 's not like him! The duellist
Is of all men, I've heard him say, the cruelest!
237
“He hates the code!—although at first I feared
That he was challenged, and was going to fight.
But, grant it all, the mystery is not cleared:
Why treat me so? and why could he not write
One letter, even in jail?” Says Rob, “You 're right.”
And, on examination, thus they found,
That theory was not altogether sound.
That he was challenged, and was going to fight.
But, grant it all, the mystery is not cleared:
Why treat me so? and why could he not write
One letter, even in jail?” Says Rob, “You 're right.”
And, on examination, thus they found,
That theory was not altogether sound.
“There is,” said Lorne, “one other explanation—
But that, I know, you will not like to hear.
And yet,” he said, with painful hesitation,
“No other seems to make the matter clear.
Suppose he had been summoned to appear
And meet a different trial in his life?—
I mean, your husband has another wife.”
But that, I know, you will not like to hear.
And yet,” he said, with painful hesitation,
“No other seems to make the matter clear.
Suppose he had been summoned to appear
And meet a different trial in his life?—
I mean, your husband has another wife.”
This she opposed with vehement persistency.
“O Rob, it is a monstrous thought!—O no!
And yet,” she said, with feminine consistency,
“He must have had another wife, I know,
For nothing else could separate us so!
I did not think my husband was so bad!
Say something, Robert, or I shall go mad!”
“O Rob, it is a monstrous thought!—O no!
And yet,” she said, with feminine consistency,
“He must have had another wife, I know,
For nothing else could separate us so!
I did not think my husband was so bad!
Say something, Robert, or I shall go mad!”
238
“My dear!” cries Lorne, “'twas only a suggestion!”
And yet the theory seemed not wholly wrong:
It answered, too, the old provoking question,
What kept our beau a bachelor so long?
“The wretch,” she sobbed, “was married all along!
He may have had a dozen wives beside,
And may be finding now another bride!
And yet the theory seemed not wholly wrong:
It answered, too, the old provoking question,
What kept our beau a bachelor so long?
“The wretch,” she sobbed, “was married all along!
He may have had a dozen wives beside,
And may be finding now another bride!
“And I am not his wife at all!”—Lorne trembled
At all these wildly uttered words implied:
Her hand was free, then! But his soul dissembled
Its secret joy; while he sincerely tried
To think but of her grief. “Why now,” he cried,
“You 're driving my conjecture quite too far:
'Tis only in romance that such things are.
At all these wildly uttered words implied:
Her hand was free, then! But his soul dissembled
Its secret joy; while he sincerely tried
To think but of her grief. “Why now,” he cried,
“You 're driving my conjecture quite too far:
'Tis only in romance that such things are.
“Vernon is not a murderer, nor a forger,
Nor jealous fool, as far as we can know;
Nor Bluebeard, looking for more wives to torture;
Nor bankrupt—as the drafts they send you show;
Nor varlet's tool and victim: far below
Our present knowledge and my comprehension
The mystery lurks, and baffles my invention!”
Nor jealous fool, as far as we can know;
Nor Bluebeard, looking for more wives to torture;
Nor bankrupt—as the drafts they send you show;
Nor varlet's tool and victim: far below
Our present knowledge and my comprehension
The mystery lurks, and baffles my invention!”
239
“You do not think,” she said, “he is a gambler,—
That Saturn aids him in that horrid vice?
Or is he just a wanton, reckless rambler?
Never did I discover card or dice!
O Rob,” she pleaded, “give me some advice!
Pity my wretched, my forlorn condition!”
And so, at last, he made this proposition:
That Saturn aids him in that horrid vice?
Or is he just a wanton, reckless rambler?
Never did I discover card or dice!
O Rob,” she pleaded, “give me some advice!
Pity my wretched, my forlorn condition!”
And so, at last, he made this proposition:
“I have a correspondent,—George Lazell,—
A classmate and old crony,—studying law
There in New Orleans: I have known him well:
One of the quickest wits you ever saw
To prove a question or to pick a flaw.
I 've not the slightest doubt he can unravel
This riddle, with a little time and travel.
A classmate and old crony,—studying law
There in New Orleans: I have known him well:
One of the quickest wits you ever saw
To prove a question or to pick a flaw.
I 've not the slightest doubt he can unravel
This riddle, with a little time and travel.
“With your consent, I'll put him in possession”—
Florinda shuddered—“of the whole affair,
And leave its management to his discretion,
Which can be trusted: give him but a hair,
And he will track the mystery to its lair,—
Work up the case, and leave no point neglected,
To keep your action in it unsuspected.”
Florinda shuddered—“of the whole affair,
And leave its management to his discretion,
Which can be trusted: give him but a hair,
And he will track the mystery to its lair,—
Work up the case, and leave no point neglected,
To keep your action in it unsuspected.”
240
She first approved the plan, then straight repented:
It would not do—she dared not! 'twas not right!—
Then, after many doubts and sighs, consented,
And hurried home,—Rob promising to write
The letter to his friend that very night;—
But she next morning sent a note to say
It must not go—when it was on its way.
It would not do—she dared not! 'twas not right!—
Then, after many doubts and sighs, consented,
And hurried home,—Rob promising to write
The letter to his friend that very night;—
But she next morning sent a note to say
It must not go—when it was on its way.
VIII.
Ah, then, for her what days of expectation,
Of curiosity akin to fear;
Of baffled hope, and causeless trepidation
At sound or sight!—a voice she chanced to hear,
Perhaps the liveried footman drawing near,
Who came like Fate, and idly went his way,
Leaving a desolate and empty day.
Of curiosity akin to fear;
Of baffled hope, and causeless trepidation
At sound or sight!—a voice she chanced to hear,
Perhaps the liveried footman drawing near,
Who came like Fate, and idly went his way,
Leaving a desolate and empty day.
The weeks went by and brought no revelation,
And letters came she did not care to read.
But now she had one secret consolation,—
And, O, what harm, if in her heart's great need
She sometimes went to him? What harm indeed,
But that imprudence is the door to sin,
And one small fault may let large vices in.
And letters came she did not care to read.
But now she had one secret consolation,—
And, O, what harm, if in her heart's great need
She sometimes went to him? What harm indeed,
But that imprudence is the door to sin,
And one small fault may let large vices in.
241
To tempted souls there is delight in danger,
And then the provocation seems complete,
When Marriage, like a mastiff in the manger,
But guards the morsel which it may not eat,
And Love and Daring find that morsel sweet!
Don't blame your wife too much, sir; but consider,
Perhaps your coldness or neglect undid her.
And then the provocation seems complete,
When Marriage, like a mastiff in the manger,
But guards the morsel which it may not eat,
And Love and Daring find that morsel sweet!
Don't blame your wife too much, sir; but consider,
Perhaps your coldness or neglect undid her.
A little pressure of the hand, returning
Another's pressure; eyebeams free as air;
The lonely heart's unutterable yearning,—
All this even Innocence itself may share:
And then a kiss is but a kiss—beware!
It is a little mouse that gnaws the net
Around a mighty lion: guard him yet!
Another's pressure; eyebeams free as air;
The lonely heart's unutterable yearning,—
All this even Innocence itself may share:
And then a kiss is but a kiss—beware!
It is a little mouse that gnaws the net
Around a mighty lion: guard him yet!
The world is full of pining hearts mismated,
And still they will mismate, and still will pine.
Is thy sweet hunger never to be sated,
O Love? But Duty also is divine;
And Passion finds a poison in the wine,
In secret, at a stolen banquet poured,
When holy Conscience blesses not the board.
And still they will mismate, and still will pine.
Is thy sweet hunger never to be sated,
O Love? But Duty also is divine;
And Passion finds a poison in the wine,
In secret, at a stolen banquet poured,
When holy Conscience blesses not the board.
242
On every side conflicting voices call;
And we must reconcile as best we can
The rights of each and the great good of all,
The claims of Nature and the laws of man,—
The problem since Society began!
O troubled soul! be tender, wise, and true,
And 'tis beginning to be solved—for you.
And we must reconcile as best we can
The rights of each and the great good of all,
The claims of Nature and the laws of man,—
The problem since Society began!
O troubled soul! be tender, wise, and true,
And 'tis beginning to be solved—for you.
| [Poems by Trowbridge in] A masque of poets | |