Poems on Various Subjects By John Thelwall. In Two Volumes |
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Canto the Fifth.
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 | Poems on Various Subjects |  |
158
Canto the Fifth.
Sweet queen of mournful numbers! wheresoe'er,
With steps demurely slow, or frantic pace
Thou rov'st, or whether with thy falling tear
Thou troublest Castaly's translucent face,
Or stretch'd on earth, where cypress mourns around,
Thy throbbing bosom beats the humid ground!
With steps demurely slow, or frantic pace
Thou rov'st, or whether with thy falling tear
Thou troublest Castaly's translucent face,
Or stretch'd on earth, where cypress mourns around,
Thy throbbing bosom beats the humid ground!
Say, sad Melpomene! (for wide to you
Is op'd those dismal annals of distress
Recording spirits with their tears bedew)
What heav'nly arm, for sure it was no less,
Snatch'd from endeavour'd death the frantic fair?
—No arm immortal; but a father's care.
Is op'd those dismal annals of distress
Recording spirits with their tears bedew)
What heav'nly arm, for sure it was no less,
Snatch'd from endeavour'd death the frantic fair?
—No arm immortal; but a father's care.
159
For on the barren cliff's stupendous brow,
Within a gloomy cave, to sorrow wed,
Sir Thudor dwelt—a weeping hermit now!—
The cell his palace, and the rock his bed.
Here mourn'd the sire his child's uncertain state,
And his own rage, which drove her to her fate.
Within a gloomy cave, to sorrow wed,
Sir Thudor dwelt—a weeping hermit now!—
The cell his palace, and the rock his bed.
Here mourn'd the sire his child's uncertain state,
And his own rage, which drove her to her fate.
For soon as time had sooth'd his haughty ire
Then cool Reflection (sober matron!) came,
And brought contrition to the frantic sire:
He saw his folly had expos'd his shame,
And the dishonour of his house reveal'd,—
Which kind indulgence might have kept conceal'd.
Then cool Reflection (sober matron!) came,
And brought contrition to the frantic sire:
He saw his folly had expos'd his shame,
And the dishonour of his house reveal'd,—
Which kind indulgence might have kept conceal'd.
Then sickly Fancy, with her shadowy train
Of woe-born spectres, haunts his cheerless day,
Invades the morphean hour, and his brain
Renews the scene soft sleep would chace away;
Weeping he'd wake,—but only woke to weep!
She haunts him waking, who disturb'd his sleep.
Of woe-born spectres, haunts his cheerless day,
Invades the morphean hour, and his brain
Renews the scene soft sleep would chace away;
Weeping he'd wake,—but only woke to weep!
She haunts him waking, who disturb'd his sleep.
160
And now, in thought, his hapless child he sees
To lust promiscuous yield her loathing charms,
The bitter pangs of pressing want to ease;
And sees her now expire in famine's arms.
Struck with the fancied horrors of her fate,
Contrition seiz'd him,—but she seiz'd too late!
To lust promiscuous yield her loathing charms,
The bitter pangs of pressing want to ease;
And sees her now expire in famine's arms.
Struck with the fancied horrors of her fate,
Contrition seiz'd him,—but she seiz'd too late!
Anxious enquires he, but enquires in vain,
For his Amanda: all his busy care
No trace, no tidings of her fate can gain.
Then, all abandon'd to his deep despair,
Detesting life, forswearing mortal view,
Here, to the lonely cliff, he, sad recluse, withdrew.
For his Amanda: all his busy care
No trace, no tidings of her fate can gain.
Then, all abandon'd to his deep despair,
Detesting life, forswearing mortal view,
Here, to the lonely cliff, he, sad recluse, withdrew.
And here the sire, upon his arm reclin'd,
Attentive to the rough waves boist'rous roar,
To keen reflection yields his tortur'd mind,
When lost Amanda stood the cavern o'er,
And rear'd her frantic voice. He starts, he flies,
(The voice rememb'ring) trembling with surprize.
Attentive to the rough waves boist'rous roar,
To keen reflection yields his tortur'd mind,
When lost Amanda stood the cavern o'er,
And rear'd her frantic voice. He starts, he flies,
(The voice rememb'ring) trembling with surprize.
161
Before the moss-grown cavern's gloomy door
The rock projects some paces o'er the wave;
As here the maniac bounds, trembling all o'er,
He follows swift, and, just in time to save,
Caught the white garment's plaited folds behind,
Which, as she plung'd, flew fluttering in the wind.
The rock projects some paces o'er the wave;
As here the maniac bounds, trembling all o'er,
He follows swift, and, just in time to save,
Caught the white garment's plaited folds behind,
Which, as she plung'd, flew fluttering in the wind.
And as some silent angler trembling sees
His rod inflected with the weighty prize,
With timid caution draws it by degrees,
While fear and transport mingle in his eyes;
In hope now sees it stretch'd upon the sand,
Now doubts his feeble line and slender wand:
His rod inflected with the weighty prize,
With timid caution draws it by degrees,
While fear and transport mingle in his eyes;
In hope now sees it stretch'd upon the sand,
Now doubts his feeble line and slender wand:
So the fond sire, perplex'd 'tween hope and fear,
Drew her, all trembling, up the hanging rock.
Unconscious she of the paternal care,
Thick beats her heart with strong convulsive shock:
The wild sensation throbs thro' all her frame;—
O'er all her form a chilly moisture came.
Drew her, all trembling, up the hanging rock.
Unconscious she of the paternal care,
Thick beats her heart with strong convulsive shock:
The wild sensation throbs thro' all her frame;—
O'er all her form a chilly moisture came.
162
As when some dove to 'scape the falcon flies,
But meets the treacherous fowler's meshy art;
From dole to dolour flown, forlorn she lies;
Against the ground quick beats her panting heart.
By fear convuls'd, thus poor Amanda lay,
Till terror snatch'd the dizzy sense away.
But meets the treacherous fowler's meshy art;
From dole to dolour flown, forlorn she lies;
Against the ground quick beats her panting heart.
By fear convuls'd, thus poor Amanda lay,
Till terror snatch'd the dizzy sense away.
Thus lay she, like a lily, trodden down,
When Damon, rushing tow'rds the boiling wave,
Saw,—paus'd,—no longer to destruction prone,
Bless'd the good chance which from a watry grave
Had snatch'd the fair, and rear'd to heav'n his eyes,
With grateful looks of transport and surprize.
When Damon, rushing tow'rds the boiling wave,
Saw,—paus'd,—no longer to destruction prone,
Bless'd the good chance which from a watry grave
Had snatch'd the fair, and rear'd to heav'n his eyes,
With grateful looks of transport and surprize.
Then, fill'd with hope, the fearless lover sprung
To where supine the fainting fair-one lay;
Kiss'd her cold lips, and o'er her weeping hung,
And with his kerchief wip'd the dews away
That soil'd her bloodless face; her hand then prest,
Bath'd it with tears, then dried it in his breast.
To where supine the fainting fair-one lay;
Kiss'd her cold lips, and o'er her weeping hung,
And with his kerchief wip'd the dews away
That soil'd her bloodless face; her hand then prest,
Bath'd it with tears, then dried it in his breast.
163
Oft struggled he, but oft in vain, to speak;
His quivering tongue refus'd its wonted part.
Hoarse, hollow murmurs only fault'ring break
Their interrupted way. He smites his throbbing heart!
Then, frantic, strains her to his panting breast,
And bathes with flowing tears the fair distrest.
His quivering tongue refus'd its wonted part.
Hoarse, hollow murmurs only fault'ring break
Their interrupted way. He smites his throbbing heart!
Then, frantic, strains her to his panting breast,
And bathes with flowing tears the fair distrest.
With equal anguish torn, the father strove
Her fleeting, wand'ring spirit to recal;
But long his tender offices of love
Want pow'r to wake her from the death-like thrall:
At length she feebly lifts her languid eyes;
“My father! Oh ye pow'rs!” she shrieking cries,
Her fleeting, wand'ring spirit to recal;
But long his tender offices of love
Want pow'r to wake her from the death-like thrall:
At length she feebly lifts her languid eyes;
“My father! Oh ye pow'rs!” she shrieking cries,
Then dies once more away. Then thus the sire:
“My sweet Amanda! dear, lov'd child! Oh me!
“Does then thy soul indignantly retire
“When thy sad eyes their cruel father see?—
“Yes, I deserve thy scorn! thy hatred claim,
“More, more than he who soil'd thy virgin fame.
“My sweet Amanda! dear, lov'd child! Oh me!
“Does then thy soul indignantly retire
“When thy sad eyes their cruel father see?—
“Yes, I deserve thy scorn! thy hatred claim,
“More, more than he who soil'd thy virgin fame.
164
“What wish had I, what passion to indulge,
“Should make me plant fresh poignards in thy breast?
“To cruel crowds thy injur'd fame divulge,
“And bar the doors of virtue, peace and rest?
“Curs'd be my haughty rage! my fury wild!
“'Tis I that kill thee, I, my child! my child!
“Should make me plant fresh poignards in thy breast?
“To cruel crowds thy injur'd fame divulge,
“And bar the doors of virtue, peace and rest?
“Curs'd be my haughty rage! my fury wild!
“'Tis I that kill thee, I, my child! my child!
“Yet, yet Amanda, if the wand'ring sprite
“Not yet for ever quits thy lovely frame,
“Ere yet thou seek'st the realms of blissful light,
“Return, return Amanda! (dear, lov'd name!)
“Say but you pardon my unsirelike part:
“Oh! give that comfort to my aching heart!”
“Not yet for ever quits thy lovely frame,
“Ere yet thou seek'st the realms of blissful light,
“Return, return Amanda! (dear, lov'd name!)
“Say but you pardon my unsirelike part:
“Oh! give that comfort to my aching heart!”
Now round her breast the brisker zephyrs play;
Repentant death suspends his lifted dart;
Unveil her clouded eyes, whose tearful ray
Beam feeble hope on each afflicted heart.
So looks Aurora pale, when drizzling skies
Obscure her beamy beauties as they rise.
Repentant death suspends his lifted dart;
Unveil her clouded eyes, whose tearful ray
Beam feeble hope on each afflicted heart.
So looks Aurora pale, when drizzling skies
Obscure her beamy beauties as they rise.
165
Alas! can words the tender scene display?—
Oh, had I, Opie, thy distinguish'd skill!
Could I like thee the mournful draught pourtray,
And each charm'd heart with soft compassion fill
With pictur'd scenes, where art and fancy join;
Colours so just, and postures so divine!
Oh, had I, Opie, thy distinguish'd skill!
Could I like thee the mournful draught pourtray,
And each charm'd heart with soft compassion fill
With pictur'd scenes, where art and fancy join;
Colours so just, and postures so divine!
Then for the pencil I'd the muse forego:
In emulation of thy murder'd James,
My rival canvas should aspire to glow;
For ah! the scene an Opie's genius claims:—
Opie, who gives e'en death an envied life,
Shall triumph over time's destroying strife!
In emulation of thy murder'd James,
My rival canvas should aspire to glow;
For ah! the scene an Opie's genius claims:—
Opie, who gives e'en death an envied life,
Shall triumph over time's destroying strife!
But ah, vain wish! nor am I doom'd to be
The favour'd vot'ry of Apelles' art.
Come then ye daughters nine of Castaly!
Let Opie's colours charm the gazer's heart;
The melting strain and numbers sad be mine,
Which make the list'ner's eye with pity's dew-drops shine.
The favour'd vot'ry of Apelles' art.
Come then ye daughters nine of Castaly!
Let Opie's colours charm the gazer's heart;
The melting strain and numbers sad be mine,
Which make the list'ner's eye with pity's dew-drops shine.
166
Supine on earth the sad Amanda lay,
'Tween her supporting sire and kneeling love;
Who her sad tears alternate wip'd away,
And to suppress their own alternate strove.
But ah! 'twas fruitless strife, they gush'd amain,
And by their flow awaken'd hers again.
'Tween her supporting sire and kneeling love;
Who her sad tears alternate wip'd away,
And to suppress their own alternate strove.
But ah! 'twas fruitless strife, they gush'd amain,
And by their flow awaken'd hers again.
Her auburn ringlets flow'd dishevelled round,
With all the blooms of scented spring array'd;
Some o'er her bosom spread, some trail'd the ground;
Her heaving breast, to court the breeze display'd,
Shone thro' the parting locks which trembled there,
Shook by deep sighs, which her sad bosom tear.
With all the blooms of scented spring array'd;
Some o'er her bosom spread, some trail'd the ground;
Her heaving breast, to court the breeze display'd,
Shone thro' the parting locks which trembled there,
Shook by deep sighs, which her sad bosom tear.
Her azure eye in tearful languish strays,
Now on her father, now on Damon bent;
Her sire one arm embraces as she lays,
One trembling hand is to her Damon lent.
Such was the mournful scene, if numbers faint
The mournful beauties of the scene can paint.
Now on her father, now on Damon bent;
Her sire one arm embraces as she lays,
One trembling hand is to her Damon lent.
Such was the mournful scene, if numbers faint
The mournful beauties of the scene can paint.
167
A dismal pause of anguish held them long;
Till Damon thus: “Amanda, oh my love!
“Can can you pardon me the cruel wrong,
“Which I, barbarian, by lewd passion drove,
“To thee have done? And to these guardian arms—
“These arms repentant, yield thy injur'd charms?”
Till Damon thus: “Amanda, oh my love!
“Can can you pardon me the cruel wrong,
“Which I, barbarian, by lewd passion drove,
“To thee have done? And to these guardian arms—
“These arms repentant, yield thy injur'd charms?”
“Ah me! my Damon,” feebly she replies,
“I pardon thee; yes, from my very heart;
“And may you live to taste sincerest joys!
“Thy bliss be great as poor Amanda's smart:
“I need not wish thee more. But oh too late
“Contrition comes; I feel the stroke of fate.
“I pardon thee; yes, from my very heart;
“And may you live to taste sincerest joys!
“Thy bliss be great as poor Amanda's smart:
“I need not wish thee more. But oh too late
“Contrition comes; I feel the stroke of fate.
“But oh, my father! how shall I obtain
“Thy kind forgiveness for the blushing woes
“My indiscretion caused thee to sustain?
“My dawning shame stains thy life's honour'd close.
“Yet, yet, Oh pardon, ere the hand of death
“Seals these cold lids, and stops this fainting breath.”
“Thy kind forgiveness for the blushing woes
“My indiscretion caused thee to sustain?
“My dawning shame stains thy life's honour'd close.
“Yet, yet, Oh pardon, ere the hand of death
“Seals these cold lids, and stops this fainting breath.”
168
“Talk not of pardon from thy murd'ring sire!
“'Tis I, my child, must for forgiveness plead:
“Not Damon's treach'ry, but rash Thudor's ire
“Points the keen shaft by which you timeless bleed.
“But Oh, dear offspring of my tender love!
“These gloomy terrors from thy heart remove:
“'Tis I, my child, must for forgiveness plead:
“Not Damon's treach'ry, but rash Thudor's ire
“Points the keen shaft by which you timeless bleed.
“But Oh, dear offspring of my tender love!
“These gloomy terrors from thy heart remove:
“Amanda yet may live, may bless the arms
“Of her repentant sire;—she may, she must:
“Repentant Damon shall protect thy charms;
“Love and contrition yet shall make him just.
“Thou yet shalt live for happiness, for love:
“Heav'n shall for sorrows past thy future joys improve.”
“Of her repentant sire;—she may, she must:
“Repentant Damon shall protect thy charms;
“Love and contrition yet shall make him just.
“Thou yet shalt live for happiness, for love:
“Heav'n shall for sorrows past thy future joys improve.”
“Vain are your hopes,” she said, “alas the while!
“The idle terrors of a frantic mind
“Impell'd my feeble limbs to over toil—
“Oh had I known you when you chanc'd to find!
“Or had, my Damon, reason 'lumed my breast,
“I might have liv'd, and had perhaps been blest.”
“The idle terrors of a frantic mind
“Impell'd my feeble limbs to over toil—
“Oh had I known you when you chanc'd to find!
“Or had, my Damon, reason 'lumed my breast,
“I might have liv'd, and had perhaps been blest.”
169
Smiting his sigh-swoln breast, “Oh mighty pow'r!”
The lover cries, “is this, is this the end?
“Is this the fruit of one delighted hour?—
“Said I the fruit? Ah me, fresh tortures rend—
“Perhaps another stab behind remains:
“A helpless babe, perhaps, forlorn complains.”
The lover cries, “is this, is this the end?
“Is this the fruit of one delighted hour?—
“Said I the fruit? Ah me, fresh tortures rend—
“Perhaps another stab behind remains:
“A helpless babe, perhaps, forlorn complains.”
“Ah no,” she sigh'd, “for grief and keen distress
“Destroy'd the embryo in my woful womb.—
“But ah farewell!—I feel some pow'r suppress
“My lab'ring breath. Let those who hear my doom
“Confess no brand of guilt should mark my name:
“Pity and love my faults, my portion grief and shame!”
“Destroy'd the embryo in my woful womb.—
“But ah farewell!—I feel some pow'r suppress
“My lab'ring breath. Let those who hear my doom
“Confess no brand of guilt should mark my name:
“Pity and love my faults, my portion grief and shame!”
She said: and strait the stiff'ning eye-lids clos'd;
The tide of life no longer warm'd her heart;
In blissful hope her franchis'd soul repos'd;
Her wearied frame obey'd the fatal dart.—
Farewel, sad maid! may none hereafter know
Such bitter pangs of undeserved woe!
The tide of life no longer warm'd her heart;
In blissful hope her franchis'd soul repos'd;
Her wearied frame obey'd the fatal dart.—
Farewel, sad maid! may none hereafter know
Such bitter pangs of undeserved woe!
170
A while, with sorrow speechless, weeping hung
The frantic mourners o'er the breathless fair;
Each tortur'd breast with keen contrition stung.
Then thus the father vents his deep despair:
“Yes, yes Amanda, 'twas my haughty ire
“Gave the keen wound by which you now expire.
The frantic mourners o'er the breathless fair;
Each tortur'd breast with keen contrition stung.
Then thus the father vents his deep despair:
“Yes, yes Amanda, 'twas my haughty ire
“Gave the keen wound by which you now expire.
“Was it for me, whose kind, indulgent love
“Should shield from slander's shrinking breath thy name,
“Thy griefs allay, thy wants, thy cares remove,
“And hide?—but hold, my tongue! no more exclaim;
“Death, death shall give me ease!—Oh world farewel!
“Yet, yet with thee, Amanda, will I dwell.”
“Should shield from slander's shrinking breath thy name,
“Thy griefs allay, thy wants, thy cares remove,
“And hide?—but hold, my tongue! no more exclaim;
“Death, death shall give me ease!—Oh world farewel!
“Yet, yet with thee, Amanda, will I dwell.”
He then, all frantic, plunging headlong down,
Sought from the gloomy surge a timeless end;
And after him himself had Damon thrown,
But that Pastorus held: “Ah me, my friend!
“Reflect a while: tho' heavy are thy woes,
“Wouldst thou fair mercy's gate for ever close?”
Sought from the gloomy surge a timeless end;
And after him himself had Damon thrown,
But that Pastorus held: “Ah me, my friend!
“Reflect a while: tho' heavy are thy woes,
“Wouldst thou fair mercy's gate for ever close?”
171
“Talk not of mercy's gate, for hell is here;
“Here, in my bosom, all its tortures glow:
“The wreathing damn'd feel nothing more severe:
“'Tis here the wild, unutterable woe.
“Unhand me then, and let me follow swift
“The murder'd Thudor down the rugged clift.
“Here, in my bosom, all its tortures glow:
“The wreathing damn'd feel nothing more severe:
“'Tis here the wild, unutterable woe.
“Unhand me then, and let me follow swift
“The murder'd Thudor down the rugged clift.
“For here, here, here,” quick smiting oft his breast,
“With wild convulsive throbs, I feel it here:
“My heart, impatient to escape to rest
“From such wild anguish, torture so severe,
“Against my heaving side enanguish'd bounds;
“Thro' all my echoing frame each throb resounds.”
“With wild convulsive throbs, I feel it here:
“My heart, impatient to escape to rest
“From such wild anguish, torture so severe,
“Against my heaving side enanguish'd bounds;
“Thro' all my echoing frame each throb resounds.”
“Oh talk not thus,” Pastorus weeping cries,
“But live, and let repentance wipe thy soul
“From guilt, and time from pearly griefs thy eyes.”
His hand then Damon seiz'd, his eyes wild roll:
“And what is time? and what repentance now?
“Where must I find them? or o'ertake them how?
“But live, and let repentance wipe thy soul
“From guilt, and time from pearly griefs thy eyes.”
His hand then Damon seiz'd, his eyes wild roll:
“And what is time? and what repentance now?
“Where must I find them? or o'ertake them how?
172
“Can my fleet steps tread back their mazy flight?
“Regain the youthful hours unstain'd by crime,
“Those panther-footed hours of pure delight?
“Or can I backward force the preacher time?—
“Could I do this, contrition might repair
“My perjur'd wrongs, and banish black despair.
“Regain the youthful hours unstain'd by crime,
“Those panther-footed hours of pure delight?
“Or can I backward force the preacher time?—
“Could I do this, contrition might repair
“My perjur'd wrongs, and banish black despair.
“But oh! thy poignard lend!—Yet there's no need.
“Ah me! my heart distends my lab'ring side!
“I feel, I feel the mangled vitals bleed.
“Here for a moment let thy hand abide.—
“Tell me, what think'st thou of this bustling heart?
“Does it not struggle furiously to part?
“Ah me! my heart distends my lab'ring side!
“I feel, I feel the mangled vitals bleed.
“Here for a moment let thy hand abide.—
“Tell me, what think'st thou of this bustling heart?
“Does it not struggle furiously to part?
“Tell me, dost think 'twill not a passage find—
“A speedy passage thro' this yielding frame?—
“It comes;—aye, let it,—let it, to my mind
“It can't too soon. Pastorus hide my shame.—
“Ah no! reveal it: publish to the world:
“Teach men, what vengeance on such crimes is hurl'd.
“A speedy passage thro' this yielding frame?—
“It comes;—aye, let it,—let it, to my mind
“It can't too soon. Pastorus hide my shame.—
“Ah no! reveal it: publish to the world:
“Teach men, what vengeance on such crimes is hurl'd.
173
“I come, Amanda! here, upon thy lip,
“To breathe my last sad fainting accents out
“In broken murmurs.—Oh the vengeful whip
“Which gorgon-frowning conscience whirls about!”
He ceas'd. Deliriums wild, & fierce convulsions seiz'd,
Till Death, in terrors clad, his body eas'd.
“To breathe my last sad fainting accents out
“In broken murmurs.—Oh the vengeful whip
“Which gorgon-frowning conscience whirls about!”
He ceas'd. Deliriums wild, & fierce convulsions seiz'd,
Till Death, in terrors clad, his body eas'd.
Fast by Amanda's injur'd corse he dies,
Grasping, in mad embrace, her murder'd charms.
The frighted Muse, in speechless horror, flies,
With eyes averted, and uplifted arms:
Forsakes the scene, to moralize a while
To those who revel gay in fortune's smile.
Grasping, in mad embrace, her murder'd charms.
The frighted Muse, in speechless horror, flies,
With eyes averted, and uplifted arms:
Forsakes the scene, to moralize a while
To those who revel gay in fortune's smile.
Thou son of dissipation, whosoe'er,
That thoughtless now, in chace of wanton joy,
Pursu'st the virgin, this sad story hear,
Nor dare the cause of all her peace destroy.
Think of the horrors that on Damon tend:
Think of Amanda, and her hapless end:
That thoughtless now, in chace of wanton joy,
Pursu'st the virgin, this sad story hear,
Nor dare the cause of all her peace destroy.
Think of the horrors that on Damon tend:
Think of Amanda, and her hapless end:
174
Think, that tho' such her end may never be
Whom now with perjur'd vows thy lust pursues,
Far, far superior anguish she may see:
Think of the horrors of the public stews;
Where health, where peace, and future hopes are sold,
A sad existence barely to uphold.
Whom now with perjur'd vows thy lust pursues,
Far, far superior anguish she may see:
Think of the horrors of the public stews;
Where health, where peace, and future hopes are sold,
A sad existence barely to uphold.
Oh to thy mind the horrid tortures bring
Of fell disease, and all her writhing train.
Think—but what boots whate'er the muse can sing?
Hast thou not read the plaintive Goldsmith's strain?
If what he sung cannot affect thy heart,
What can I hope from my inferior art?
Of fell disease, and all her writhing train.
Think—but what boots whate'er the muse can sing?
Hast thou not read the plaintive Goldsmith's strain?
If what he sung cannot affect thy heart,
What can I hope from my inferior art?
But thou, injurious sire, or cruel dame,
Whom pride, resentment, or a stubborn mind,
Might prompt to drive thy ruin'd child to shame,
Reflect: and be the barb'rous thought resign'd:
Think, that for one offence our common Sire
Dooms not his children to eternal ire:
Whom pride, resentment, or a stubborn mind,
Might prompt to drive thy ruin'd child to shame,
Reflect: and be the barb'rous thought resign'd:
Think, that for one offence our common Sire
Dooms not his children to eternal ire:
175
Oh think, how oft his kind indulgent care
Has warn'd, in vain, from crimes of deeper dye;
Oh think, how long with thee he deigns to bear,
And views thy wand'rings with a pitying eye;
Nor e'er, till stubborn guilt provok'd him sore,
Did his indulgent hand close mercy's door.
Has warn'd, in vain, from crimes of deeper dye;
Oh think, how long with thee he deigns to bear,
And views thy wand'rings with a pitying eye;
Nor e'er, till stubborn guilt provok'd him sore,
Did his indulgent hand close mercy's door.
And wilt thou then, for one departure flight,
One slip of prudence, plunge in endless shame
The darling offspring of thy soft delight?
Oh! wilt thou bar thy breast to pity's claim?
And wilt thou let, oh frantic wretch! thy ire
The prostitution of thy child conspire?
One slip of prudence, plunge in endless shame
The darling offspring of thy soft delight?
Oh! wilt thou bar thy breast to pity's claim?
And wilt thou let, oh frantic wretch! thy ire
The prostitution of thy child conspire?
Oh hapless child whom such a father owns!
Oh hapless child whom such a mother bore!
Where shalt thou hide from fortune's savage frowns,
If once deluded from strict honour's shore?
A cruel world thy anguish shall inflame,
And they who should preserve shall damn thy fame.
Oh hapless child whom such a mother bore!
Where shalt thou hide from fortune's savage frowns,
If once deluded from strict honour's shore?
A cruel world thy anguish shall inflame,
And they who should preserve shall damn thy fame.
176
Lo! want appears in all her meagre forms:
Cold shivers, hunger craves, and thirst assails;
Temptation strong thy tottering virtue storms;
Strong pleads distress, and vice at last prevails.
A respite short abhorred lust obtains;
But soon destruction comes with tenfold pains.
Cold shivers, hunger craves, and thirst assails;
Temptation strong thy tottering virtue storms;
Strong pleads distress, and vice at last prevails.
A respite short abhorred lust obtains;
But soon destruction comes with tenfold pains.
Thus some poor dappled hind, or brindled fawn,
In barbarous chace (inhuman sport!) pursu'd,
Alarm'd by terror scours the less'ning lawn
Till it arrives at some runcaria rude,
Which its advent'rous foot durst ne'er before,
In search of foilage green for browse, explore;
In barbarous chace (inhuman sport!) pursu'd,
Alarm'd by terror scours the less'ning lawn
Till it arrives at some runcaria rude,
Which its advent'rous foot durst ne'er before,
In search of foilage green for browse, explore;
Thoughtless of thorn, of gorse, of twisted brake,
Of sloughy bog, wild bri'r, high bramble bush,
The foe close pressing, knowing life at stake,
Wing'd by despair, it makes a desp'rate push;
Bounds to the centre, foils the eager chace,
Nor heeds the circling horrors of the place;
Of sloughy bog, wild bri'r, high bramble bush,
The foe close pressing, knowing life at stake,
Wing'd by despair, it makes a desp'rate push;
Bounds to the centre, foils the eager chace,
Nor heeds the circling horrors of the place;
177
The dread of death once past, the little beast
Would fain return to browse on hill or lawn,
But can't, from twining brambles, get releas'd
Till by surrounding bri'rs in pieces torn,
With anguish, and with famine's double strife
The wretched fugitive resigns its life.
Would fain return to browse on hill or lawn,
But can't, from twining brambles, get releas'd
Till by surrounding bri'rs in pieces torn,
With anguish, and with famine's double strife
The wretched fugitive resigns its life.
| Poems on Various Subjects | |