 | Young Arthur |  |
SUBJECT III.
The Grave of the Good.—Allan and Edith.—A Stranger.
Simple the stone which records it's lot;
Mournful the cypress whose boughs, declin'd,
Wave, murmuring, over the hallow'd spot.
The turf, stone, and cypress, shall wither and wane,
But the seed in that grave it shall flower again.
And whom does that stone record?
Now happily rest that humble head
In the bosom of the Lord!
O'! sweet is the sleep that the virtuous take,
But sweeter the sound that shall bid them awake.
And Allan he rais'd this stone;
And he heav'd a sigh, and he dropp'd a tear,
For loss of the love that's gone!
Farewell, gentle hearts, ye shall smile in the day
When many a proud one shall sorrow for aye!
But the stranger houses there;
For that cottage for gold is the stranger's right,
They've sign'd, and they have seal'd, and the bargain's tight,—
The cot Allan sold
To have and to hold,
For Allan was Simon's heir.
And fix'd in his cap a plume;
And a gallant, gay, ship he has gone aboard,
With many a spirit of valour stor'd;
And his heart beat high,
But he heav'd a sigh,
And his face was o'erspread with gloom.
To list to the nightingale's lay,
And sigh for the youth who had all her love—
“And, say, have ye tidings, or can ye prove
“Where Allan is gone?
“For I must moan
“For the youth I have driven away.”
Forfend that the gallant should fall!
And fair Edith she sits all pensively
By the ivy that clings round the wall.
A STRANGER.
And a bonny steed you stride;
And gallant and gay is your harness dight;
Like a meteor you dart on the wondering sight,
So few in this lone path ride.
And alight at my father's door;
For a knight is he, and his heart is right,
And to honour the brave is his high delight;
Then spur on your steed no more.
Against maiden reserve offend;
My sire he saw you, and bade me fly,
And crave that his gate you'd not pass by,
See, his grooms your will attend.
I rest me at your say;
Sure ne'er was a beauty so rich and rare,
Like a vision benignantly beaming in air
You come to adorn the day.
The knight a stranger; Edith was the fair.
He stopp'd, alighted; ready grooms attend—
Fashion still finds the welcome of a friend—
Grooms, lacquies, pages, ready at his call,
The stranger bows in Brandon's lofty hall:
The youth receives them as the courteous glass
Reflects, and faithfully, the image warm;
All without substance, fallacy, and form:
Contrasted manner told this tale aloud,
The stranger humble, and Sir Brandon proud;
A stately banquet stately welcome waits;
There Edith rules; and there the youth relates
Varied adventures: as the maiden hears
Smiles speak her pleasure, half-heav'd sighs her fears;
Alternate thus the stranger's heart they try,
And still to Edith they attract his eye;
Sir Brandon fill'd; the youth ne'er backward stands,
But fills; yet, e'er each pledge for drinking's up;
Respect to beauty gallantry demands,
Each bow'd to Edith, kissing first the cup;
Their gentle courtesy the maid discern'd,
With smiles receiv'd, and modestly return'd;
At length fair Edith, and the haughty man,
The youth's adventures ask'd, who thus began.
THE STRANGER'S TALE.
My name is Ernest; tir'd of tranquil life,To see the world, and mingle in its strife,
I left the spot where being first I knew
When eighteen summers light, and winters, drew
The mind to active hope; my guardians fir'd
My thirst for glory; as, by that inspir'd,
I drew the bow, the Britons' native pride;
And plac'd the arrow where but vainly tried
All of my age; for well my nerves were strung,
And sanguine hope this song for ever sung,
“Sloth and the coward win inglorious care,
The brave and active fortune and the fair.”
Near to the sea I dwelt; a vessel there
Once moor'd by chance, some damage to repair;
A front and port the captain bore that told
The wary leader, and the warrior bold;
His looks were fierce, yet gentle forms he knew,
And told of deeds that rapt attention drew:
A week he stay'd; my eager heart he won,
And still to greet Sir Gorman would I run;
With all the soul, by valour rous'd, holds dear;
And as he spoke mark'd well my eager mind,
My sparkling eye, that told my soul inclin'd
To noble daring; doubly then he strove
To tempt my longing, and secure my love;
Enough—in short he won my soul's esteem,
I long'd for glory, and I saw its gleam;
The bold Sir Gorman tow'ring by my side,
I reach the vessel, and the deck I stride;
The anchor weigh'd, the sails unfurl'd to view,
I leave the old world, panting for the new:
Young hope look'd round; new was the scene and grand,
The spreading ocean and receding land,
The arching sky a bound'ry to the whole;
The heaving billow, and the vessel's roll;
The careless crew, the unaccustom'd cheer;
The pride of honour, and contempt of fear;
The seaman's nerve, activity, and skill;
The bark obedient to the master's will;
The trim set canvass, and the compass true,
The captain's rule, and order of the crew.
New was the scene, inspiring was the sight,
My mind all wonder, and my soul delight;
One horrid night, that look'd like Nature's last,
A storm, tremendous, burst; down stream'd the rain,
Heard but not seen, for darkness hid the main;
Save, when the vivid sheet expos'd all 'round,
Then vanishing, made darkness more profound;
While shrieking winds with roaring billows vied,
Thunder's dread burst with rattling peal replied:
Now to the clouds we mounted, torn, and toss'd;
Then plum-down, sudden, in a gulph were lost;
While flying yards and spars against us dash'd;
Mast by the board went; quick, the sailors lash'd
Booms in reserve, with well-twin'd cordage fast,
And rais'd to service the fictitious mast.
A leak we sprung; “lost! lost!” the sailors cried,
“Dastards!” Sir Gorman furiously replied;
Flew to the pump himself, and set them on;
He who, though chief, through all had wonders done.
But to a pleasing picture let me turn;
The winds relax; with gratitude we learn
And morning shews that 'neath bare poles we ride.
Yards, sails, sheets, blocks, and braces, strew the deck;
All hands are busied to repair the wreck;
From splic'd yards, sails (patch'd up in haste) expand;
Slowly tow'rds some dense mass a-head we stand,
And one rude burst of rapture hails the land!
A shore we near; a well known creek they view,
Cast anchor there; Sir Gorman and the crew
Now to refit prepare; at his command,
The boats are lower'd, and he rows to land;
The crew, part follow, part behind remain,
To guard the vessel; I the harbour gain;
I tread the land once more; with youthful zeal,
And grateful heart, to providence I kneel;
They mark the action, and with shouts decry,
And for thanksgiving large libations ply;
And one insensate sleep envelopes all!
Shock'd by the savage horde; enrag'd, deceiv'd
By false Sir Gorman him I had believ'd
Honour's true son, and not a bandit, given
To brave humanity, and blaspheme Heaven;
Though strange the shore, chill'd horror bade me fly,
I plied with ardour ev'ry energy
To climb a cliff, o'ertowering where they lay;
And through a strait, chance, chink, an oft check'd way,
(By careful clinging, stopping, striving, oft,
Hanging by ledges, then from footing soft
Slipping) I found; and vigour gain'd from zeal,
I reach'd the summit; made to Heav'n appeal;
Then ran, nor rested till I reached a spot
Where in a grove had nature form'd a grot;
On heav'n relying, here, fatigued, repos'd;
And on my tablets thus my heart disclos'd.
A ship is said to ride beneath bare poles when all her sails and yards are torn away by the violence of the tempest, and nothing but the masts are left standing.
Yards are the transverse lengths of wood to which the sails are attached; the sheets are ropes used with the clue-lines in regulating the sails; but the term sheets, is often improperly used for sails. Blocks, pullies—braces, ropes belonging to all the yards, except the mizen.—Marine Dictionary.
HYMN.
A hand that all directs;
There is a power for all purveys,
A power that all protects.
A trust can ne'er betray;
There is a grace when mortals grieve
Can wipe the tear away.
Who watches while we sleep:
And trust is sure, in watch or ward,
The desart or the deep.
To him whom mercies move,
The humble, unaffected sighs
Of gratitude, and love!
A hand awoke me, and my half-clos'd eyes
Beheld Sir Gorman; sternly he survey'd;
“Follow,” he cried; defenceless, I obey'd.
“Ernest,” he said, “our manners please thee not;
“But thou hast sought us, and must share our lot;
“A pirate I, freebooters are my crew,
“And those who join us must our course pursue:
“Zeal in my service rich reward will gain,
“Resistance, Death—reflect, escape is vain.”
Silent I heard; in silence soon we reach
Where the crew labour on the busy beach,
To right the vessel; and their toils prevail;
Again we board her, and unfurl the sail,
And move, majestic, with a fav'ring gale.
Forc'd, I submit, and wait some fav'ring hour
To give me freedom from the pirate's pow'r;
Southward we bear, to where her hundred heads
Rears Terra Firma —deep the valley spreads
And sap the soil for half the rolling year;
Here lenient balms, rich gums and fruits abound;
And here the precious emerald is found.
Enriching earth with constancy's green hue,
While sapphire veins it with celestial blue.
Here beasts of blood, in frowning forests, roar;
And birds of loveliest plumage grace the shore;
A wond'rous tree, the Manzunello nam'd,
Here spreads its boughs, far fatal, as far fam'd;
The brutes, instinctively, at distance keep;
And racking pains await unthinking sleep
Stretch'd 'neath its shade; its fruit the foe of breath,
Delight to gaze on, but to taste is death.
Whose fruit th' envenom'd from the venom frees.
Next is Panama and the pearl is there;
Pure, lovely emblem of the graceful fair:
A fish contains it in transparent shell,
And daring divers seek it in its cell,
With weapon arm'd; for here the fish of prey
Watches the diver on his watery way;
The fish (the weapon failing in its blow)
Feeds on the diver in the deeps below.
Here Porto Bello, by Columbus nam'd,
For tainted air, and ample harbour fam'd;
And there Capira's towering head supplies
A “cloud capp'd” index to capricious skies.
Rude Terra Firma on the north its bound;
Andes the east; Chili the south extreme;
The west the Sea Pacific—hence its stream,
Its endless stream, to which with tribute flow
Two hundred streams; then, blending with it go,
Rolls the proud Amazon; upon whose banks
Once “unsex'd” women led th' embattled ranks
Of glaive-arm'd war; and, harness'd in array,
Led mankind captive from the bloody fray;
A race (to some few instances decreas'd)
In every land who live, in Britain least;
Their bucklers softness, and their weapons smiles.
Peru the realm of wealth; where mountains grow,
Their towering heads capp'd with eternal snow.
Fertile the centre, barren is the coast,
Vein'd by the precious ore, its bane, and boast.
Here the Quinquina's medicated rind
Gives wasting life new energy and mind;
And here a tree, whose each integral part
Presents some benison to health or art.
Fam'd for ne'er drinking, the mild Pacos tall
For toil's convenience and for hunger's call,
Here among beasts ranks paramount to all.
Here the Vicuna yields the bezoar stone,
The subtle leech's grand specific known;
And knaves find nostrums to impose on fools.
Here stern Pizarro spread the fatal war;
Gold was his god, ambition was his law:
Before the chief the wondering Indians flew,
As sheep are scatter'd when fierce dogs pursue;
Soon Tumbez fell, where, in Sol's temple, lay
The splendid treasures of the orb of day;
Caciques were slaughter'd at the altars there,
And screaming vestals rent th' astonish'd air.
But what gave fell Pizarro the command,
Intestine feuds divide the golden land;
The lawful Inca from the throne expell'd,
And golden chains depos'd Huascar held.
The fallen Inca's loyal friends appear,
And civil feuds the bloody standard rear;
The foul usurper to the Spaniard flies,
Believes, and trusts; and by the Spaniard dies.
Now Manco Capac mounts Peruvia's throne;
All feuds forgotten, all his empire own:
The Don mistrustful that his power should cease,
Projects a parley, and proposes peace.
By art the Inca in his power he gains,
Loads him with policy's deceitful chains,
And, in the Inca's name, Pizarro reigns.
Of bonds impatient, the Peruvian tries
Deceit in turn; and thus his purpose plies:
“Pizarro, gold, our hapless soil which veins,
“Tempted your host to desolate our plains;
“Much have you master'd, much more have you miss'd;
“My rule usurp'd, but vainly I resist
“Your cruel force; and since I cannot fly,
“Since truth and justice can no aid supply,
“My state I'll barter, and my freedom buy.
Treasure your bait, I try the baneful test,
And cheaply with her gold buy sad Peruvia rest.
My royal signet on this edict shown,
Where'er it reaches riches are your own;
Nay more, to purchase for my country peace,
There is a treasure, sacred to the land—
O Sun, 'tis thine!”—with tears his accents cease;
Quick he resumes, while all impatient stand,—
“Rear'd by the priesthood of that sacred fane
Where Peru's sons in prostrate awe remain;
In antient days, with sacred rites perform'd,
While rich devotion every bosom warm'd,
To yon bright power by Peruvians prais'd
A form gigantic of himself was rais'd ;
The statue gold, with every gem inlaid
Peru could boast; the spot, a secret made,
Alone the Inca and the high priest know;
Him you have slaughterd; guarded then I go,
Expose the treasure, and my country free;
That sacred image of thyself shall be,
O Sun! thus dedicated best to thee.”
A double guard to watch the prince prepar'd;
To hidden Yarico, a sacred vale,
He led the guard, amus'd by crafty tale;
Through many a secret pass he took his way,
Known to himself alone; and some where day
Its beams ne'er darted; here the king they lost;
Freedom he gain'd, and gain'd it to their cost.
His ready subjects his intention knew;
Thousands on thousands to his standard flew;
War strode o'er slaughter; by a hapless stroke
The Inca fell;—and dying, thus he spoke:—
“My words fulfill'd, the sacred image I;
“My country ask'd it, and content I die,
“A patriot sacrifice; then, taught by me,
“Be each the image, and Peruvia's free.”
Due honors paid the self-devoted king,
A sacred fury to the field they bring;
The Spaniards felt it in the wounds they gave,
And, with their gold, battalions bought a grave.
But,—Heaven sure will'd it!—still remains to tell
Pizarro triumph'd, and Peruvia fell!
He triumph'd—but what is in blood begun
Must end in blood—Almagro's base-born son—
Murder in heart and holy cross in hand,
Peru to ravage, and destroy the land;
And stain'd the Cross; cov'ring the blood it bore,
Those sacred spots for man's redemption shed,
With clotted streams of base-shed human gore;
Such as call vengeance on the murderer's head,—
Almagro 'gainst Pizarro would conspire,
Spaniard with Spaniard fought; by treachery slain,
Almagro fell; the son avenged the sire,
And clos'd at Lima, fell Pizarro's reign.
Peru abhors, Spain, disavow the name,
Pizarro! “d---d to everlasting fame.”
Terra Firma Proper, or the Isthmus of Darien, joins North and South America; the climate is very sultry during the whole year; particularly in the northern divisions. It abounds with prodigious high mountains and deep vallies.
From the end of May till the beginning of November, there is an almost continual succession of thunder, rain, and tempest; the excessive heats raise the vapour of the sea, which is precipitated in such rains as seem to threaten a deluge. From the middle of December to the middle of April the rains cease, and the weather becomes more agreeable.
The bird called the Preacher is found here; so called from its custom of perching on the tops of trees, and making a noise resembling ill articulated sounds; its bill is variegated with all those bright colours which adorn the plumage of other birds.
In the woods about Carthagena, is a species of willow, which bears the name of Habella de Carthagena, or bean of Carthagena. This bean contains a kernel resembling an almond, but less white, and very bitter: It is a remedy against the bite of venomous reptiles, with which the place abounds. The inhabitants take a little of this kernel fasting, and are then under no apprehension of danger.
Fine harbour, so called from its capacious size, profound depth, and certain security; this place abounds in forests and mountains. Columbus subdued it in 1514.
The principal mountain in Porto Bello, which serves as a barometer to the inhabitants. The changes of weather are singularly abrupt, and the inhabitants are only fore-warned of them by the various appearances of the clouds on its summit. The heat here is excessive, the torrents of rain impetuous, and the storms of lightning and thunder dreadful; so that the inhabitants die very fast; and the beasts brought from other places soon lose flesh, and become scarcely eatable.
It is bounded on the north by Pompayan, a part of Terra Firma; on the east by the Andes or Cordillera Mountains, which divide it from the country of the Amazons and Paraguay; on the south, by Chili and La Plata; and on the west by the South Sea or Pacific Ocean. The river of Amazons, the largest river in the world, (its course being between four and five thousand miles) has its rise in Peru, and running east, falls into the Atlantic by eighty-four channels, which in the rainy seasons overflow the banks and fertilize the country. Its mouth is 159 miles broad, and it receives in its progress near 200 other rivers, and about 1500 miles from its mouth, it is from forty to fifty fathoms deep.
Peru, it has been said, was not known by any general name when it was discovered by the Spaniards; but an Indian being asked its appellation, answering, Peru, or Beru, (What do you say?); from that circumstance it received the name it now bears. This may appear absurd, but many records apparently as ridiculous have their foundation in fact.
The Magney—it produces a delicious drink; honey, vinegar, timber, hemp, and thread; the two latter being made from the leaves, stalks, &c. Needles are made from the prickles, and its fruit is converted into a kind of soap.
The Pacos or Huanca, or Peruvian sheep: it is as large as a stag, and resembles a camel. It is a beast of burthen as well as of food; will carry an hundred weight; walks extremely erect and stately, and no beating can make it quicken its pace; its wool is extremely coarse, and its flesh is as white as veal, and as innocent as that of a chicken; it is never known to drink, and grazes on very rough and common grass.—The Vicuna is another species of sheep, smaller and lighter than the Pacos, and is called also the Indian goat.
Notwithstanding the play of Pizarro has given some publicity to the fall of Peru, I thought it a subject necessarily connected with a description of that country, as the circumstance occurred during the century in which the action of the poem is placed, (16th) The Spaniards landed in Peru in 1530. I have however to apologize for a glaring anachronism (for which, I hope, I may plead the poetica licentia, or any other licence the reader may be pleased to give me,) in Ernest's relation—because the reader will discover from other incidents in the poem, that the Spaniards did not land in Peru till some time after Ernest had left it.
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