Narrative poems on the Female Character in the various relations of life. By Mary Russell Mitford ... Vol. I |
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| III. | CANTO III. |
 | Narrative poems on the Female Character |  |
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CANTO III.
I.
'Tis blest, as rare, when nature's glories findMan's jarring soul in such pure harmony,
That every charm strikes from th' accordant mind,
A sweeter tone of higher extasy!
'Twas now the loveliest hour of fair July:
The birds in silence sought their verdant cell,
Save that one chirp, soft as a lover's sigh,
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And seem'd of peace and rest the warring world to tell.
II.
The gentle lamb now sought her mother's side;Whilst the shy bat, quick glancing o'er the stream,
Seem'd like some airy fleeting shade to glide:
Transparent in the horizontal beam
The elmin leaves like pendent emeralds gleam;
And, piercing every western dell, the sun
Rich glories threw, till each rude nook, I deem,
So bright in its illusive lustre shone,
That eastern Kings had own'd their jewel'd thrones outdone.
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III.
And lovely as the gay and cheerful glowOf thy retiring beams, bright orb of light!
From whose blest fount, hope, joy, and being flow,
Ev'n such as thou, so beautiful, so bright,
So good is Temper to our mental sight!
Ev'n as thy rays each craggy path illume,
And flash their glories on the brow of night,
So can she chase the intellectual gloom;—
The sun that gladdens life, the torch that lights the tomb.
IV.
Frederic had watch'd each transitory charmOf earth and sky, from the refulgent hue
That universal nature seem'd to warm
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Than Etna or Vesuvius ever knew;
Till now that twilight wraps her sable stole
Round wood and sky; and the refreshing dew
Seems o'er the mead in vapory clouds to roll,
Or gem the slender grass beneath each woody knoll.
V.
Dear to the lover's heart the twilight hour!The hour when fancy's potent dreams enthrall,
And mingling hope and love's bewitching power,
Charm each bewilder'd sense, and chain them all.
O what sweet dreams obey the Syren's call
Of ceaseless bliss and exquisite delight!
Ev'n so to dream is joy!—Joy that would fall,
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Reason is day's stern Queen!—Wild fancy rules the night.
VI.
Yet dearer even than that magic dreamIt is, to linger round her lov'd abode,
Who, like the polar star's benignant beam,
Points to the haven of bliss, and lights the road.
The wavering flame that through the casement glow'd,
Capricious blazing from the cottage fire,
At times a swift and graceful shadow show'd;
The cheerful soul could ev'n the shade inspire,
With its own airy grace, and charms that cannot tire.
314
VII.
Young Frederic stood upon the very spotWhere his ear drank in love at early morn:
And now he saw the Sisters leave the cot,
With one, at once his hatred and his scorn,
With Mowbray, he the heartless and forsworn!
Mary alone advanc'd beyond the door,
And pausing, with a charm of kindness born,
“Will you not come, dear Grace, and tread once more
The scene of early bliss, our nurse's humble floor?”
VIII.
“Will you not come?” As if to tempt her forth,Peer'd, o'er the feathery grove, the silver moon,
Darting her pallid light from south to north
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Still Grace refus'd; “Mary, grant thou my boon,”
Sir Walter cried, “and I with thee will go;”
And Mary smil'd and paus'd, but answer'd soon,
“Why wilt thou tempt me thus to empty show?
Why force me still to say, my kindest brother, no?”
IX.
“In sooth, the show thou scorn'st, my gentle dame,Is the heart's hope of many a lovely girl;
For never yet rank's proud and beamy flame
Play'd round a fairer brow than Claremont's Earl;
I would but guide him to the modest pearl,
Which by my brighter diamond shines so fair:
Those charms that ne'er were made for village churl,
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And show to courtly crowds my chosen, peerless pair.
X
“I ask thee but one week with us to stayAt Claremont Hall, and canst thou then refuse?
Desert thy sister on her bridal day?
Fly from a brother who so humbly sues?”
“Nay, Mowbray, mock not thus my lowly views,
Nor teach my Grace to scorn her sister's name.
Blest may you be, and well your blessings use!
Honor wait on you, riches, health and fame!
Each holy hope fulfill'd, and every virtuous aim!
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XI.
“For me—Oh, leave me here! content, to cheerMy tender mother through declining age;
Leave me, nor yet believe, my sister dear,
(Though far from courtly Claremont's bustling stage,)
To-morrow's joy will any heart engage
More deeply, or with fewer tears between;—
Nor will I hide it in my hermitage;
The tabor shall our youthful friends convene,
And Mary lead the dance along the village green.
XII.
“I am no guest for Claremont Hall—Farewell!”Sweet was her smile as lightly forth she sprang.
Gay Mowbray sigh'd,—and something seem'd to swell
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Of the clos'd door, which through the cottage rang,
Proclaim'd his chafing lady's angry mood:
And even as he gaz'd, he felt a pang,
Insulting though he were—Both of one blood,
He thought, and both so fair!—Ah, why not both so good?
XIII.
Frederic the converse heard across the court,And Grace's rage compar'd to his was cool;
“With Mary's virgin coyness dost thou sport,
Judging her soul by thine, officious fool!
And is Lord Claremont then thy destin'd tool?”
Pausing he strove imperious wrath to curb,
And with sweet Mary's art his passions school;
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Whilst scarce her bounding steps the timid hare disturb.
XIV.
'Twas in a path where the bright moon-beams slept,And Mary saw and knew the stranger youth;
Half-starting with surprise, yet still she kept
Her fearless way tow'rds the low cot of Ruth.
Frederic advanc'd:—For manly grace, in sooth,
Few forms with his could vie:—Yet earnest love
In manner loses what it gains in truth;
And ne'er ungracefully did Frederic move,
Till to sweet Mary's hands he gave her rescued dove.
320
XV.
Half caught the maiden his confusion sweet,Whilst flinging her light basket from her hand,
His piercing eyes her modest glances meet,
All as to clasp the bird her arms expand.
Her quicker breath the dove's light plumage fann'd,
As if her innocent joy she strove to check:
Yet still she strok'd its wing, with gesture bland,
Still laid her cheek against its glossy neck,
And show'd how childhood's joys can lovely woman deck.
XVI.
Yes! If a friend I sought, it should be oneWho to such childish pleasures knows to bend:
Who seeks the shell upon the sea-beach thrown,
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Whose feet the wild, untrodden dell descend
To seek the primrose pale, the violet fair,
The robin's nest from plunderers to defend,
With the young brood her simple viands share,
And smile with blameless joy at each successful care.
XVII.
For good and happy is the glowing breastWhence, universal love! thy essence springs!
What though wit's carping tribe, proudly unblest,
Mock at the bliss thy joyous spirit brings:
What though they hold the beauties nature flings
And her free denizens, as parts so small
Of this fair world, such vile and useless things
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Yet she whom genius loves has care and love for all.
XVIII.
Frederic, delighted, view'd the gentle maid;The more delighted, for his piercing look
Soon guess'd she would not fly his proffer'd aid;
Mary her bird, and he the basket took,
And as they pass'd, each glen and darkling nook,
And every silvery path to converse led.
For terror soon each generous mind forsook,
And they had gaily reach'd Ruth's humble shed,
Ere either heart had deem'd that half their way was sped.
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XIX.
And yet, in sooth, as slowly had they walk'dAs if their lingering steps could bribe old Time
To stop his fleeting sand-glass while they talk'd;
Or win the moon to stay her course sublime
And list young Frederic's wild and ardent rhyme,
And Mary's song, his sweetest recompense.
Nor e'er, thou silvery moon, in any clime
Rose sweeter offerings to thy heavenly sense,
Than love's enthusiast lay and warbling innocence.
XX.
Sweet was it to the lover's heart to markHow Ruth on Mary's gentle accents hung,
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Kindness and comfort mingling from her tongue,
And plenty from her liberal hand, she flung.
Yet envied he the goodness he admir'd,
When with a parting kiss from Ruth she sprung:
And with a new and scarce-own'd wish inspir'd
To charm as she was charm'd, from the lone cot retir'd.
XXI.
Silent awhile they walk'd.—It was a pauseThat calm and gay indifference never knew;
Each throbbing heart could well explain the cause,
And fear'd, yet long'd the converse to renew.
Frederic began—“Why does each spot I view
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'Tis that they say—I soon must bid adieu
To her whose sweet companionship would cheer
Arabia's lonely wilds, or Lapland's ice-bound year.
XXII.
“Nay shake not thus thy head, sweet monitress!This is no fancy of the sickly brain,
Born of bright moonshine and calm loneliness,
And fading in the morning light again:
Still dost thou smile? list then a humbler strain,
List, nor refuse thy lowly suppliant's prayer!
Didst thou not say, that quitting the gay train
Who to Lord Claremont's sumptuous halls repair,
Thou on the village green to-morrow's dance shouldst share?
326
XXIII.
“Thou hast refus'd to join the courtly group;A peasant gains the bliss denied a peer!
Mary, were I that peasant, I would stoop
To gaze on kings as from a higher sphere!
Oh make me then thus happy, maiden dear,
And deign with me to lead the rustic dance!”
In her sweet smile he found no cause of fear,
And caught the joy that could his soul entrance,
Before she whisper'd “yes,” from her accordant glance.
XXIV.
Yet, from some lurking feeling, Frederic ask'd,(Could it be jealousy?) “Hast thou e'er met
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Of prosperous fortune, never troubled yet
Till now that Mary scorns his coronet:
Know'st thou Lord Claremont?” “No! I know him not.
Yet when I hear his virtues, I regret
For one short moment my calm humble lot,
And the strong bar that parts the castle from the cot:—
XXV.
“I go not there—for I am here so blest!Why should I risk thy precious peace, content?
Why seek by flattering tongues to be caress'd
Then rudely from the fickle bosom rent,
And left to pine, to pity, to lament?
328
I mourn no friendships lost, no hours mispent.
Nay vanity itself endears the scene,
There I a slave should be—and here I am a queen.
XXVI.
“The fairy queen—Titania, merry sprite!To-morrow eve, we hold our revels gay;
Now, Oberon, we part!—A fair good night!”
She cried, and airy as the sprightly fay
Bounded from Frederic's side alert away;
And gain'd her cottage home; and dreamt, I deem,
Not of the coming morn's superb array,
But of her waking vision's new born theme:—
O shadow of a shade!—Is it not all a dream?
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XXVII.
Ye lovely dames, beneath whose nuptial state,The proud earth trembled as it pass'd along,
Tell, for ye can, the honors that await
The beauteous idol of the courtly throng!
Tell, for ye can, that ev'n while bards prolong
In praise of the fair bride the mirthful hour,
Ev'n in the dance, the banquet, and the song,
The heart returns to its dear native bower;
And doubt, the mildew, hangs in love's expanded flower.
XXVIII.
For ye, sweet maids!—needless it were to tell,How lightly tripp'd at eve upon the plain,
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Had bound him in the strong though flowery chain
That Temper weaves and never weaves in vain.
Beauty but traces letters on the sand;
Temper engraves on brass. And the bright swain
Who own'd in Mary's form her soft command
As Frederic won her heart, as Claremont gain'd her hand.
XXIX.
And needless 'twere to tell that Mary's lifeIn virtue pass'd, and bliss that cannot cloy:
Whilst Grace with Mowbray wag'd incessant strife,
And found in every blessing some alloy.
For wedlock, like the Amreeta cup, brings joy
331
But in the fierce and wicked can destroy
Love, peace, and hope; and rushing through the blood
Deathless, yet killing not, give wrath perpetual food!
| Narrative poems on the Female Character | |