University of Virginia Library

X.

One morn her savage Lord in quest of food,
Forsook the cave and sought the adjacent wood;
And as her darling boy he with him bore,
Irza [alone] might pace the sounding shore;
Listless and slow she moved—she climbed with pain;
A towering crag which beetled o'er the main.
Now three full years had flown since Irza's eye,
[Had gazed on human form, and since reply]
From human tongue had blest her ear; tis true,
Throned on a cliff (which spread before her view,
The blue sea's liquid plains) she once descried,
A gallant ship which ploughed the neighbouring tide.
By cries to draw it near she long essayed,
And oft a palm branch waved in sign for aid;
But all her cries and all her signs were vain,
On sailed the bark, nor e'er returned again.
On that same cliff she sat and eyed the wave,
And wished she there had found a watery grave.
Fain had she sought one then, plunged from the steep,
And buried all her sufferings in the deep;
But faith alike and reason bade her shun
That wish, nor break a thread which God had spun.
Hark! was it fancy? Hark again!—the shores
Echo the dash of fast approaching oars!
Oh! how she gazed! A Barge (by Friars 'twas manned)
Cut the smooth waves and sought the rocky strand.
Soon (while his withered hands a crosier hold,
All rich with gems, and rough with sculptured gold)
Landing alone a reverend Monk appeared,
His jewell'd cross—his flowing silvery beard—
“'Tis he! 'Tis he!” swift down the steep she flies,
Falls at the stranger's feet and frantic cries,
Down her palecheek, while tears in torrents roll
“Help Father Abbot! save me! save my soul!”
“'Twas he indeed! that Bark which ne'er returned,
Well on the cliff her fair wild form discerned;
But deemed some Island Fiend had spread a snare,
To lure them with a form so wild and fair;
Yet oft at Lisbon would those seamen tell,
How angled for their souls the Prince of Hell;
And warmly paint, their leisure to beguile,
The fallen Angel of th' enchanted Isle.
At length the wonder reached the Abbot's ear,
And prompt affection, made the wonder clear;
“'Twas Irza! Shipwreck'd Irza! none but she,
So heavenly fair, so lonely lost could be.”
And straight again he sped the sea to brave,
Which once before had yawned that good man's grave.
Resolved for Irza's sake to dare the worst,
Which fate could offer on those rocks accurst;
Far off his ship was anchored—on that strand,
Not India's wealth could make a Layman land.
Therefore with none but Monks he manned his barge,
Which bore of beads and bells a sacred charge;
Whole heaps of relics left by Cintra's nuns,
And holy water blessed at Rome by tons.
His pains were all o'erpaid—he saw again
His favourite child, and kindly soothed her pain.
And while her tale he heard, oft dropt a tear,
And signed his beard-swept breast-in awe and fear;
Then bade her speed the friendly bark to gain,
And fly the infernal Monarch's green domain,
Nor yield her Tyrant time to cast a spell,
And raise to cross her flight, the powers of Hell.
Then first from Irza's cheek the glow of red,
By hopes of rescue raised, grew faint and fled.
Trembling she named the cherub boy—confest
A mother's fondness, filled her mother's breast.
Described how fair he looked, how sweet he smiled,
And feared her flight might quite destroy her child.
Then rose the Abbot's Ire. “Oh guilty care!”
Frowning he cried, and shook his hoary hair;
“Fair is the Imp! and shall he therefore breathe,
“To win more subjects for the realms beneath?
“The Fiends most dangerous are those spirits bright,
“Who toil for Hell and seem like sons of light;
“And still when Satan spreads his subtlest snare,
“The baits are azure eyes, the lines are golden hair!
“Name thou the brat no more!—Cintra's walls,
“Fly where thy footsteps mild repentance calls.
“Kneel not—I'll hear no plaint—I'm deaf to prayer,
“Quick, Brethren, to the Bark this maniac bear.
“Speed! Speed! no tears! no struggling! no delay!
“Row Brethren, row, and waft us swift away!”
The Monks obeyed—Then, then, in Irza's soul,
What varions passions raged and mocked control.
Now how she mourned—now how she wept for joy —
How loathed the Sire, and how adored the boy.
The Barge is gained: they row—when lo! from high,
Her ear again received that well known cry,
That sad strange moan! she starts, and lifts her eye.
There on a rock which fenced the strand, once more:
She saw her Demon husband stand, he bore
The beauteous babe; and while he viewed the Barge,
Keen anguish seemed each feature to enlarge;
And shake each Giant limb. With piteous air,
His arms he spreads, his hands he clasped in prayer.
Knelt—wept—and while his eyeballs seemed to burn,
Oft showed the child and wooed her to return.
The Monks his suit disdain—the Bark recedes:
More humbly now he kneels, more earnest pleads;
But when he found no prayers their course delay,
And still the Barge pursue its watery way;
Then 'gainst his grief and rage no longer proof,
He gnashed his teeth, he stampt his iron hoof;
Whirled the boy wildly round and round his head,
Dash'd it against the rocks and howling fled.
Loud shreaks the mother—changed to stone she stands,
And silent lifts to heaven her clay cold hands;
Then sinking down—stretched on the floor she lies,
Hid her pale face, and clos'd her breaking eyes.
But hark! Why shout the Monks? “again” they said,
“Again the Demon comes?” with desperate dread,
Starts the poor wretch and lifts her anguished head.
Yes! there the Infant murderer stands once more,
But now far different were the locks he bore;
No bending knee, no suppliant glance was seen,
Proud was his port, and stern and fierce his mien.
His blood-stained eyeballs glazed with vengeful ire,
His spreading nostrils seemed to snort out fire.
Swiftly from rock to rock he following flung,
While round his neck his shaggy offspring clung;
And now like some dark tower erect he stood,
Where the last rock hung frowning o'er the flood.
“Look! look!” he seemed to say with action wild,
“Look mother, look! this babe is still your child.
“With him as me, all social bonds you break,
“Scorned and detested for his father's sake;
“My love, my service, only wrought disdain,
“And nature fed his heart from thine in vain.
“Then go, Ingrate. Far o'er the billows go,
“Consign your friend, your child, to endless woe;
“Renounce us! hate us! pleased your course pursue,
“And break their hearts who live alone for you.”
His eyes which flashed red flames, his arms spread wide,
His brat raised high to heaven, too plain implied,
Such were his thoughts—tho' nature speech denied.
And now with eager glance the deep he viewed,
And now with savage howl the Bark pursued;
Then to his lips the Infant wildly prest,
And fondly, fiercely, clasped it to his breast.
Three piteous moans, three hideous yells he gave,
Plunged headlong from the rock and made the sea their grave.