Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

In this short Interval that Reason knows,
When sad remembrance but augments my woes,
This clotted straw—ah me!—the only bed
Where wretchedness like mine can lay its head;
These plaister'd walls, spread o'er with nauseous stains,
Barr'd windows, cobweb'd roofs, and iron chains,
The only objects that present to view—
Are these returns for Love like Lucio's due?
Cou'd Fulvia thus—For pity hold, my Brain,
'Till I have stabb'd th'Adultress thro' each vein.

Yes, Syren, yes, if black Ingratitude,
(That rankest Fiend of Hell's detested brood,
That pestilential prop of Satan's throne,
In whom all vices are compriz'd in one,
Legion of Sin! in Smiles delusive drest,
Whose loathsome Cell's the grand Deceiver's breast)
Has not already stamp'd you more than Fiend,
These lines shall your polluted heart-strings rend,
Shall make ye groan, nay howl in sad despair,
While Hell's remotest damn'd shall, trembling hear.

Have you forgot the day—you never can,
When like a sick'ning lilly, pale and wan,
You droop'd, e'er yet your bloom was full reveal'd,
In your heart's core Love's hopeless flame conceal'd?
Your weeping friends attending round your bed,
And Death with dart high threat'ning o'er your head,

221

The fatal secret from your lips they drew,
You sigh'd, and wish'd from Lucio an Adieu;
No sound from forth your lips save Lucio came,
Your fault'ring voice still dwelt on Lucio's name:
Your Parents, doubtful, trembling, begg'd my aid,
To save, if possible, their darling Maid;
From me one smile, they urg'd, but one kind word,
Might Hope recall, and lenient balm afford;
Unnotic'd to that instant Fulvia's flame,
A stranger to your beauty—rank—ev'n name;
Fortune had plac'd Me in a sphere above
That humbler walk, where You was wont to move;
Yet, pitying, quick I flew at their request,
And whisper'd comfort to your anguish'd breast;
Pity first op'd the portal of my heart,
When Love, triumphant entering, fill'd each part,
Possess'd me all, enchain'd my very soul,
And, Reason banish'd, sway'd without controul:
I sooth'd, caress'd, recall'd your flitting life,
Nay more, ungrateful, hail'd you Lucio's Wife;
Before the sacred Altar seal'd my vows,
And thought me happy in so fair a spouse;—
Her throne deserted Health once more resum'd,
Your dying features with a glow relum'd:—
What vows, with tears enrich'd, from Fulvia flew!
“How grateful, kind, how loving, and how true!
“My Saviour! my Preserver!” was your cry,
The speaking moisture starting from your eye,
“To you my life—yet more—my love is due;—
“I owe 'em all—and much, much more to you;”—
Whilst I, unhappy, ev'ry vow believ'd,
I read you in myself, and was deceiv'd.

222

Ah! why will tears adown my furrow'd cheek,
Spite of disdain and rage, my weakness speak?
Why with a soul so feeling was I curst?
Why with soft Pity's milky streamlet nurst?
Had Lucio's heart been callous as your own,
Fulvia had dy'd unlov'd, unwept, unknown.

Was there a wish—Oh, let your heart declare,
If still that mark of humankind you bear—
Was there a wish, but lightning-like I flew,
Nor, till your wish enjoy'd, Contentment knew?
Was there a thought of mine but teem'd with love?
Joy was not Joy, did Fulvia not approve:
Pass'd there a day, an hour throughout the year
But brought new proofs my passion how sincere?
And when disease threw o'er your charms a shade,
Unnerv'd your soul, and made your roses fade,
Did I not weary Heav'n with constant pray'r,
And tend you with a more than Nurse's care?
Whilst You—Oh Heav'n! in angel softness drest,
Seem'd to repose your soul in Lucio's breast;—
Upon Delusion's happy shore I stray'd,
'Till Chance, in one curst hour, my golden hopes betray'd.

Unus'd to absence from your Syren Charms,
And dragg'd by hated Bus'ness from your arms
A few sad days—how heavy then my heart!—
From Love—from Fulvia destin'd to depart,
I, wistful, bad Adieu:—Your ev'ry look,
Your glist'ning eye—your broken accents spoke,
They spoke—yes, Dalilah, they spoke Despair;
But ah! each word, each look, how insincere!—

223

Hanging upon my neck, how did you pray
From Fulvia short would be her Lucio's stay!
How did you sigh!—How did your bosom heave!
And to my trembling lips your kisses cleave!
How often call your Lucio back!—Again
Your Lucio to your panting bosom strain!
Again, with lips close prest, (that balmy seat
Where, veil'd in roses, lurks the Fiend Deceit)
How beg, if Fulvia e'er your love possest,
Quick my return to ease her widow'd breast;
Ev'n to the last how did your eyes pursue,
And ev'ry straining look, pronounce Adieu,
'Till distance hid me from your aking view.

Oh, Woman! Woman! All your tears, your sighs,
Your vows—what are they but hyena lies?—
The curling smoke that as it mounts dissolves,
More stable than your love, more fix'd than your resolves.

Each tedious hour of absence was a year,
And in return alone did Hope appear:—
Ah, flattering smiling Hope, thus to deceive!
Ah, foolish Man, Hope's Lurements to believe!—
When free, with eager Extacy I flew,
Lightsome as air, to fancy'd Bliss and You:
Love bore me on his wings, as if to show
How far his joys transcend all joys below;
But hurl'd from thence, with such dire force I fell,
I burst earth's bounds, and plung'd to deepest hell.

'Twas early Morn, Night's Shadows newly fled,
When to my Fulvia's chamber quick I sped,

224

A master-key a ready entrance gave,
And all was silent as the mirky grave,
My swelling pulse in quicker currents flow'd,
My bosom with unusual transports glow'd,
To think what joy in Fulvia wou'd appear,
To see her “Bosom's Lord,” her Lucio near;
To hear her in soft dreams perhaps repeat
Her Lucio's name, in accents Angel-sweet:—
Your curtain drawn, on tiptoe soft I stole,
Love, Hope, and Fancy sporting in my soul;
I look'd and saw—the thought awakes my pain—
Stabs my poor heart, and fires my heated brain,
I saw—my Slave clasp'd in your warm embrace,
While Pleasure slumb'ring glow'd around your face;
Upon your arm, which o'er his neck was thrown—
A bracelet rich with eastern jewels shone,
Which but a few days gone, with sportive pride,
And thousand kisses on your wrist I ty'd;
No other use for treasur'd store I knew,
Bewitching Sorc'ress! but to pleasure You;—
I stiffen'd; clammy chilness stopt each pore,
I scream'd, and lifeless dropt upon the floor.

Oh, had it pleas'd kind Heav'n, of sense depriv'd,
I ne'er to curst Remembrance had reviv'd,
But Fulvia, Love, Ingratitude forgot,
The friendly Grave had been my happy Lot,
I then had peaceful sunk thro' Death to Rest—
From Life, from Thought releas'd, is to be blest;—
But now no common misery's my share,
Ev'n Fiends are strangers to the pangs I bear:—
Far as Love's Joys all other Joys excell,
Love's Torments distant throw the Pains of hell.

225

By Friends officious dragg'd to hated Light,
I heard of the Adult'rers hasty flight,
Heard, that with jewels and with treasure fraught,
Heedless of Lucio, whom they lifeless thought,
For safety to some unknown distance flew;—
But ah! you cannot fly from Heav'n's all-searching view.

Madness ensu'd, while Reason fled her Throne,
And but by Intervals now faintly known;
Shut out from air and from the cheerful day,
(Wou'd I were shrouded a cold lump of clay!)
No Friend to share my Griefs, or soothe my Care,
My sole Companions Madness and Despair,
When maddest, happiest—Mem'ry then in vain,
Lost in a lab'rinth, darts the venom'd pain,
Ev'n Death, half scar'd to hear my uncouth cries,
At distance grins, and friendly aid denies.—

Oh, Fulvia!—but I pray not heav'n to pour
Upon your guilty head the vengeful shower,
May you repent, and may—the pray'r how vain!
Sweet Mercy's Fount were gracious Heav'n to drain,
'Twou'd not suffice to wash away your stain.—

In ev'ry corner of my Cell is view'd
The stabbing marks of your Ingratitude;
For painted roof this den—For downy bed
This beggar straw! no Hope!—All Comfort fled!
While from the neighb'ring Cells, each shriek and groan,
In sounding their despair, proclaims my own;
And menial wretches, wolf-soul'd, thro' my grate
Sport with my ravings and deride my fate;

226

Ev'n midnight Owls and Dogs (more kind than they)
My shrieks with shrieks, and howls with howls repay:
Nay more, a Wretch beneath my notice late,
With lash erect, now tyrant of my fate,
With barb'rous phrase, and yet more barb'rous hand,
And blows—ev'n blows enforcing his command:—
Can it be justice, Heav'n, on me to pour
Of mis'ry such a complicated store?—
'Tis Justice—and your wise decree I own,
My crime was Love to Hell's worst offspring shown,
To Fulvia—At the very sound Fiends grin,
Half-pleas'd to find themselves outdone in sin.

Cou'd you, O Fulvia, cou'd you view those eyes,
That gloated on you with such extacies,
Now rolling fierce, with frightful wildness strain'd,
And in their blood-ring'd sockets scarce contain'd?
Cou'd you behold those lips, to your's when join'd,
On which our flutt'ring souls you swore entwin'd,
Cou'd you behold 'em quiv'ring, sordid, pale,
Frothing wild rage, my gnashing teeth reveal?
Those hands you oft with tears of love bedew'd,
Tearing my shaggy beard, and stain'd in blood?
Cou'd you these lines—this farewell, last Adieu—
Hell dormant in your bosom—careless view?—
The Helen smiles, with scorn she skims 'em o'er,
Then gloating, clasps her dirt-sprung Paramour;—
Seize her, Infernals, drag her quick below,
Heap on her all your quintessence of Woe;

227

They seize her—See! her tender limbs they tear—
Her yell—her dreadful screamings rend my ear;—
And lo!—her heart is marble—and her veins
Spout forth th'ungrateful Adder's inky stains:—
She still is Fulvia—Spare her, and on me
Turn all your vengeance—Set poor Fulvia free;
See!—See! she shuns me, and with mangled charms
For shelter flies to her base Minion's arms;—
This to the Villain's heart ------

[OMITTED]

(Desunt Cætera.)

Persons of all Ranks, till within these few Years, were, on paying a Trifle, occasionally admitted into the long Gallery at Bedlam, where they often made a cruel use of this indulgence.