 | Young Arthur |  |
PLAINT.
The turf is o'er thy head,
Ah! thou who sleep'st below,
I press thy grassy bed,
The orphan child of woe.
Subdued by grief, my steps I bend
Where rests my boyhood's only friend.
Ah! thou who sleep'st below,
I press thy grassy bed,
The orphan child of woe.
Subdued by grief, my steps I bend
Where rests my boyhood's only friend.
The turf is o'er thy head,
Unheard must I complain;
And peaceful is thy bed
But pillow'd mine by pain;
All, all my pleasure found an end
With thee, my boyhood's only friend.
Unheard must I complain;
And peaceful is thy bed
But pillow'd mine by pain;
All, all my pleasure found an end
With thee, my boyhood's only friend.
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While Allan wailing lay,
A linnet on a spray
Was sweetly singing;
But deaf was Allan's ear
To what could charm or cheer;
And dead the flowers appear
Around him springing.
A linnet on a spray
Was sweetly singing;
But deaf was Allan's ear
To what could charm or cheer;
And dead the flowers appear
Around him springing.
Could not these flowers move
Emotions to reprove
And mock his sorrow?
Like gratitude each gay,
“We grieve not” seem'd to say,
“Though blooming but to-day,
To fade to-morrow.”
Emotions to reprove
And mock his sorrow?
Like gratitude each gay,
“We grieve not” seem'd to say,
“Though blooming but to-day,
To fade to-morrow.”
That warbling linnet's strain
Seem'd saying, “why complain
When I am praising?
Though but the present mine,
The future, mortal, thine;
And can'st thou so repine
Beyond hope's raising?”
Seem'd saying, “why complain
When I am praising?
Though but the present mine,
The future, mortal, thine;
And can'st thou so repine
Beyond hope's raising?”
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Upon a grave-stone by
A verse, which fix'd the eye,
Seem'd grief's denial;
“There is a sorrow, sane,
There is a wailing, vain;
Shall man of care complain,
Since life's a trial?”
A verse, which fix'd the eye,
Seem'd grief's denial;
“There is a sorrow, sane,
There is a wailing, vain;
Shall man of care complain,
Since life's a trial?”
There sat behind that stone,
On weighty griefs, his own,
An old man musing;
Arous'd by Allan's grief,
Pity prompts relief,
His accent bland but brief,—
“Why hope refusing?”
On weighty griefs, his own,
An old man musing;
Arous'd by Allan's grief,
Pity prompts relief,
His accent bland but brief,—
“Why hope refusing?”
His soothings soon prevail,
And Allan told his tale,
Advice entreating;
And from the scene of woe,
Conversing, on they go,
With friendship's kindly glow,
And grace's greeting.
And Allan told his tale,
Advice entreating;
And from the scene of woe,
Conversing, on they go,
With friendship's kindly glow,
And grace's greeting.
290
Ingenuous youth, go, read the sacred page
Of care-indited, profitable, age;
There shalt thou trace the sterling lore of truth:
And, age, O, covet converse with the young;
Grace shalt thou gather from the glow of youth,
And more melodious prove to youth thy tongue.
Of care-indited, profitable, age;
There shalt thou trace the sterling lore of truth:
And, age, O, covet converse with the young;
Grace shalt thou gather from the glow of youth,
And more melodious prove to youth thy tongue.
Sweet is the picture when the head of grey
And brow of care are brighten'd by a smile;
The rust and wrinkle vanishing away
Leave a bright, sacred, beaming to beguile;
And youth approaches with enquiring eye,
Inclining ear, and modesty of mien,
Which proof of reverence and love supply;
Grateful the golden oracles to glean.
And brow of care are brighten'd by a smile;
The rust and wrinkle vanishing away
Leave a bright, sacred, beaming to beguile;
And youth approaches with enquiring eye,
Inclining ear, and modesty of mien,
Which proof of reverence and love supply;
Grateful the golden oracles to glean.
Sir Brandon's mind new perturbation mov'd;
The maid he lean'd on and the man he lov'd
Once to unite his prospect and his pride;
That wish (which pride of ancestry denied)
Resum'd its empire with redoubled force
When render'd hopeless by the young knight's course;
Pride felt abash'd; the struggle was severe:
Ernest depart? affection triumph'd here;
Ernest depart, when, leaving Brandon gates,
Departing friendship on his footstep waits?
Just his departure from a mansion where
His presence but accumulated care:
Just his departure, sorrow to remove
From home abandon'd and maternal love;
Just his departure, every reasoning tried
Of nature, love, necessity, or pride.
The maid he lean'd on and the man he lov'd
Once to unite his prospect and his pride;
That wish (which pride of ancestry denied)
Resum'd its empire with redoubled force
When render'd hopeless by the young knight's course;
Pride felt abash'd; the struggle was severe:
Ernest depart? affection triumph'd here;
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Departing friendship on his footstep waits?
Just his departure from a mansion where
His presence but accumulated care:
Just his departure, sorrow to remove
From home abandon'd and maternal love;
Just his departure, every reasoning tried
Of nature, love, necessity, or pride.
The day is fix'd, Sir Brandon at the thought,
Resum'd the sternness ancient sorrows brought;
Polite to Ernest, portly to the rest,
Save her who, slighted, warm'd alone his breast;
Save her deem'd injur'd, now ordain'd to prove
Redoubled fondness from returning love.
Resum'd the sternness ancient sorrows brought;
Polite to Ernest, portly to the rest,
Save her who, slighted, warm'd alone his breast;
Save her deem'd injur'd, now ordain'd to prove
Redoubled fondness from returning love.
The day is fix'd, the banquet they prepare;
Ernest must Brandon's parting bounty share;
All are invited of respect and name,
All who might notice from Sir Brandon claim.
Ernest must Brandon's parting bounty share;
All are invited of respect and name,
All who might notice from Sir Brandon claim.
The day arrives; Sir Brandon's brow of care
Essays the smile of gallantry to wear;
A specious sunshine, ill assum'd the part,
Joy in his eye, but anguish in his heart.
Essays the smile of gallantry to wear;
292
Joy in his eye, but anguish in his heart.
The day arrives, and all, invited, there;
The guests enraptur'd and the banquet rare;
In all the blaze of dignified attire,
To grace her seat, and gratify her sire,
Eclipsing all the splendour she display'd
By looks angelic, sat the blooming maid;
The graceful Edith, all her father's pride,
Beaming she sat in radiance by his side.
So by some darkling cloud you may behold
The sun more bright from the contrasted gloom;
While its reflected rays with blended gold
Give the dense cloud false splendour to assume.
The smiling guests, in honour to the day,
A blaze of grandeur gorgeously display:
Close by the knight the musing Ernest plac'd
Was mark'd by modesty and manly taste;
With simple fancy decorated o'er,
His knighthood's badge and ruby cross he wore;
And by Sir Ernest, at his host's desire,
Attir'd as seeming, sat the peasant sire;
Hubert, his father, as Sir Ernest thought,
As all he told, and all the accent caught;
While Hubert brooding, and abash'd, receiv'd
Warm 'gratulations for the tale believ'd:
For such a son, an honour known to few,
A son whose sire not even Hubert knew.
The guests enraptur'd and the banquet rare;
In all the blaze of dignified attire,
To grace her seat, and gratify her sire,
Eclipsing all the splendour she display'd
By looks angelic, sat the blooming maid;
The graceful Edith, all her father's pride,
Beaming she sat in radiance by his side.
So by some darkling cloud you may behold
The sun more bright from the contrasted gloom;
While its reflected rays with blended gold
Give the dense cloud false splendour to assume.
The smiling guests, in honour to the day,
A blaze of grandeur gorgeously display:
Close by the knight the musing Ernest plac'd
Was mark'd by modesty and manly taste;
With simple fancy decorated o'er,
His knighthood's badge and ruby cross he wore;
And by Sir Ernest, at his host's desire,
Attir'd as seeming, sat the peasant sire;
293
As all he told, and all the accent caught;
While Hubert brooding, and abash'd, receiv'd
Warm 'gratulations for the tale believ'd:
For such a son, an honour known to few,
A son whose sire not even Hubert knew.
Where strays the gazings of the blushing youth?
To where sits beauty, loveliness and truth;
To Edith?—no; to one whose fame might tell
Her Edith's rival, blooming Isabel:
For high Sir Brandon, chivalrous of soul,
Deem'd no regrets at parting should controul
The “gallant bearing” of a knight; this mov'd
The maid to welcome whom young Ernest lov'd;
Tho' pride might sicken at the galling sight
Of her who triumph'd in his hope's despite:
Hence beauteous Isabel, with splendour chaste,
Plac'd by fair Edith, the glad circle grac'd;
And there the Matron whose maternal heart
Foster'd fair Isabel possess'd a part;
And there too Allan; Allan? where was he?
I' th' welcome garb of wandering minstrelsy;
Allan, and that old man; 'twas he the heath
Who cross'd 'mid storm, while fear presag'd his death;
But heaven a safegard to his footsteps gave,
And led to Allan at old Simon's grave;
A minstrel he; retain'd at Brandon Hall
To aid the pleasures of the festival.
By his wise counsel, Allan (who the string
Could wake with cunning, and with science sing)
With manner feign'd, false beard, and alter'd look,
The harper's habit and his calling took;
And when he sung—alas! she knew not why,
The tear stood trembling in lov'd Edith's eye;
He sung of love condemn'd with woe to cope,
His ballad's burthen “constancy and hope;”
Oft as he sung, his brow Sir Brandon bent,
Pain'd by past scenes, then soften'd to content;
Abstracting thought the scene before him shrouds—
He sat as sits a man when watching clouds;
A cumb'rous giant of dark shade who sees,
Stretch'd all his length at an enormous ease;
While groupes of shadowy rocks come rolling on,
And crush the monster 'neath the unreal stone;
That giant Brandon, cares those thickening rocks,
Which, ever threat'ning, still prepar'd new shocks.
With all a “master's hand” and “prophet's fire,”
The aged minstrel hastens to inspire
Their glowing hearts with strains that care confound,
Soul in the sense, and magic in the sound;
His eyes were fire of glory when he sung,
The vaulted roof with bursting plaudits rung;
He sung of love; then languish'd every eye,
The tear half started, and half heav'd the sigh;
The minstrel sigh'd—then, with an awful look,
The chords he thunder'd, while his weak frame shook,
And thus he sung—
To where sits beauty, loveliness and truth;
To Edith?—no; to one whose fame might tell
Her Edith's rival, blooming Isabel:
For high Sir Brandon, chivalrous of soul,
Deem'd no regrets at parting should controul
The “gallant bearing” of a knight; this mov'd
The maid to welcome whom young Ernest lov'd;
Tho' pride might sicken at the galling sight
Of her who triumph'd in his hope's despite:
Hence beauteous Isabel, with splendour chaste,
Plac'd by fair Edith, the glad circle grac'd;
And there the Matron whose maternal heart
Foster'd fair Isabel possess'd a part;
And there too Allan; Allan? where was he?
I' th' welcome garb of wandering minstrelsy;
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Who cross'd 'mid storm, while fear presag'd his death;
But heaven a safegard to his footsteps gave,
And led to Allan at old Simon's grave;
A minstrel he; retain'd at Brandon Hall
To aid the pleasures of the festival.
By his wise counsel, Allan (who the string
Could wake with cunning, and with science sing)
With manner feign'd, false beard, and alter'd look,
The harper's habit and his calling took;
And when he sung—alas! she knew not why,
The tear stood trembling in lov'd Edith's eye;
He sung of love condemn'd with woe to cope,
His ballad's burthen “constancy and hope;”
Oft as he sung, his brow Sir Brandon bent,
Pain'd by past scenes, then soften'd to content;
Abstracting thought the scene before him shrouds—
He sat as sits a man when watching clouds;
A cumb'rous giant of dark shade who sees,
Stretch'd all his length at an enormous ease;
While groupes of shadowy rocks come rolling on,
And crush the monster 'neath the unreal stone;
That giant Brandon, cares those thickening rocks,
Which, ever threat'ning, still prepar'd new shocks.
295
The aged minstrel hastens to inspire
Their glowing hearts with strains that care confound,
Soul in the sense, and magic in the sound;
His eyes were fire of glory when he sung,
The vaulted roof with bursting plaudits rung;
He sung of love; then languish'd every eye,
The tear half started, and half heav'd the sigh;
The minstrel sigh'd—then, with an awful look,
The chords he thunder'd, while his weak frame shook,
And thus he sung—
| Young Arthur | |