Per. Hast thou, before, found cause my| faith to question?
Ever, before this night ?—In justice
One mystic hour the characters of fate [me Mark for the enterprise, which must not pass El. No. [hour, El. What dreadful meaning lurks beneath Per. Believest thou, in this solemn parting I fear, alas! I fearLips that dare imprecate heaven's wrath on Per. For me?
falsehood, Avenging thunders, hell, and penal judgment, Methinks I dream; so strange, so wildering My lips can frame a lie? Believest thou This tale. When ends the mystery ? saidst this?
[issue. El. I would not-cannot think it; but this Per. My fortunes touch upon a speedy Per. A moment, Elinor, consult your heart. Nor had thy sympathy been vainly waked, Have you not something seen, or fancied, in Could I have torn my trembling heart away, [baseness? That clung and would not leave thee-leave That seemed ill coupled with this outward thee here, Arguing a mind above the hireling's pitch, A nobler nature-as in some mewed eagle That creeps, degraded, round a peasant's croft, Which proves the native of the princely eyry? El. Ha! a ray like thatPer. Recal the time When first my face thou saw'st ;-the tale I Glance back to many a trivial circumstance That still belied me; startled thee, so oft, And made thee gaze with wildered eyes. O, think,
Unconscious of my love-a rival's prize- Never to be remembered more; or deemed Senseless of virtues dearer to my soul Than breath can utter. Falling, I could now Greet death with smiles: the rapturous thought thou know'st
My love, my hopes, and wilt remember me, Brightens the dark hour like a glimpse of Eden-
Adieu! dim glows the matin star-But heed! If this be not a dream of ecstasy,
Think of that night when righteous Providence A moment comes, is now upon the wing, Rescued your honor-when the moon beheld When, unexpected, I may rise to claim Your death-like face, and loose locks on my My bride, and love.-Then, shrink not to con- fess me;
When my roused spirit spoke-all else forgot-For every hope swings on that fated hour. High as her bent, and tender as the hour! Thou own'st, feel'st truth in this. Mark! do I, now,
[Presses her hand hastily to his lips; ascends. The picture closes after him.]
Fashion my speech in phrase of servitude? Would the carle's tuneless tongue prove false the boast [with princes; That courts have been my home; my walk My toil the Antique Sages' lore; my sport, Penning sweet roundelays for ladies' lyres, Who paid me with the radiance of their eyes El. Pray, leave me.
Per. O, forgive this lordling pomp- [go, Vain pride-no more-thy heart believes. Go, Elinor, where Destiny conducts me : To be myself; or cast disguise, and life, Together, off. In rank thine equal, peer To England's proudest, powerful as thy sire, And crowned with old hereditary laurels, Arthur returns, or never more. Ah! say, If Fate should smile-wilt thou smile too? canst thou,
O, canst thou bid me rise-to life, to love, To paradise with thee?
El. My heart-alas !
I'm giddy all my senses seem bewildered. Per. May hope thy silence construe ?- Tongues more bless'd,
More used to ecstasy, might talk of mine! El. Thou goest.-But where ? Upon what Per. I cannot answer thee? [quest? El. But is there danger? [tongue.
Per. Question me not, for chains are on my El. O! choose some more propitious sea-
El. [In a wild tone of despair.] He's gone! for ever gone! to bleed ! to perish! The noblest ! bravest!-O! my bursting heart!-
What will become of me
§ 52. Hadad and Tamar. HILLHOUSE. The garden of Absalom's house on Mount Zion, near the palace, overlooking the city. Tamar sitting by a fountain.
Tam. How aromatic evening grows! The flowers,
And spicy shrubs exhale like onycha; Spikenard and henna emulate in sweets. Blest hour! which He, who fashioned it so So softly glowing, so contemplative, [fair Hath set, and sanctified to look on man. And lo! the smoke of evening sacrifice Ascends from out the tabernacle. Heaven Accept the expiation, and forgive This day's offences!-Ha! the wonted strain, Precursor of his coming!-Whence can this→→→ It seems to flow from some unearthly hand— Enter Hadad.
Had. Does beauteous Tamar view, in this Herself, or heaven? [clear fount, Tam. Nay, Hadad, tell me whence Those sad, mysterious sounds.
Had. What sounds, dear Princess ? Tam. Surely, thou know'st; and now I almost think
Some spiritual creature waits on thee
Had. I heard no sounds, but such as eve- With pleasure, like a flowing spring of life.
Up from the city to these quiet shades; A blended murmur sweetly harmonizing With flowing fountains, feathered minstrelsy, And voices from the hills.
Tam. The sounds I mean,
Tam. Our Prophet teaches so, till man rebelled.
[Heaven Had. Mighty rebellion! Had he 'leagured With beings powerful, numberless, and dread
Strong as the enginery that rocks the world
Floating like mournful music round my head, When all its pillars tremble; mixed the fires
From unseen fingers.
Had. When?
Tam. Now, as thou camest.
Had. "Tis but thy fancy, wrought To ecstasy; or else thy grandsire's harp Resounding from his tower at eventide. I've lingered to enjoy its solemn tones, Till the broad moon, that rose o'er Olivet, Stood listening in the zenith; yea, have deemed
Viols and heavenly voices answered him. Tam. But these-
Had. Were we in Syria, I might say The Naiad of the fount, or some sweet Nymph, The goddess of these shades, rejoiced in thee, And gave thee salutations; but I fear Judah would call me infidel to Moses.
Tam. How like my fancy! When these strains precede
Thy steps, as oft they do, I love to think Some gentle being who delights in us Is hovering near, and warns me of thy coming; But they are dirge-like.
Had. Youthful fantasy,
Attuned to sadness, makes them seem so, lady. So evening's charming voices, welcomed ever, As signs of rest and peace;-the watchman's call,
The closing gates, the Levite's mellow trump Announcing the returning moon, the pipe Of swains, the bleat, the bark, the housing- Send melancholy to a drooping soul. [bell,
Tam. But how delicious are the pensive dreams
That steal upon the fancy at their call!
Had. Delicious to behold the world at rest. Meek labor wipes his brow, and intermits The curse, to clasp the younglings of his cot; Herdsmen, and shepherds, fold their flocks
What merry strains they send from Olivet! The jar of life is still; the city speaks In gentle murmurs; voices chime with lutes Waked in the streets and gardens; loving pairs
Eye the red west in one another's arms; And nature, breathing dew and fragrance, yields,
A glimpse of happiness, which He, who formed Earth and the stars, had power to make eternal. [proach the Friend Tam. Ah! Hadad, meanest thou to re- Who gave so much, because he gave not all? Had. Perfect benevolence, methinks, had willed
Unceasing happiness, and peace, and joy; Filled the whole universe of human hearts
Of onset with annihilating bolts
Defensive vollied from the throne; this, this Had been rebellion worthy of the name, Worthy of punishment. But what did man? Tasted an apple! and the fragile scene, Eden, and innocence, and human bliss, The nectar-flowing streams, life-giving fruits, Celestial shades, and amaranthine flowers, Vanish; and sorrow, toil, and pain, and death, Cleave to him by an everlasting curse.
Tam. Ah! talk not thus.
Had. Is this benevolence ?Nay, loveliest, these things sometimes trouble
For I was tutored in a brighter faith. Our Syrians deem each lucid fount, and stream, Forest, and mountain, glade, and bosky dell, Peopled with kind divinities, the friends Of man, a spiritual race allied
To him by many sympathies, who seek His happiness, inspire him with gay thoughts, Cool with their waves, and fan him with their O'er them, the Spirit of the Universe, [airs. Or Soul of Nature, circumfuses all With mild, benevolent, and sun-like radiance; Pervading, warming, vivifying earth, As spirit does the body, till green herbs, And beauteous flowers, and branchy cedars rise; [caves, And shooting stellar influence through her Whence minerals and gems imbibe their lustre. Tam. Dreams, Hadad, empty dreams. Had. These deities
Till time, or fate, return her in its course To quaff, once more, the cup of human joy. Tam. But thou believ'st not this. Had. I almost wish
[mar, Thou didst; for I have feared, my gentle Ta- Thy spirit is too tender for a Law Announced in terrors, coupled with the threats Of an inflexible and dreadful Being, Whose word annihilates, whose awful voice Thunders the doom of nations, who can check
The sun in heaven, and shake the loosened Thy soul, and cloud its native sunshine. stars, [step Tam. [In tears, clasping her hands.] Like wind-tossed fruit, to earth, whose fiery Witness, ye Heavens! Eternal Father, wit
The earthquake follows, whose tempestuous breath
Divides the sea, whose anger never dies, Never remits, but everlasting burns, Burns unextinguished in the deeps of Hell. Jealous, implacable-
Tam. Peace! impious! peace! Had. Ha! says not Moses so? The Lord is jealous.
Tam. Jealous of our faith,
Our love, our true obedience, justly his; And a poor recompense for all his favors. Implacable he is not; contrite man Ne'er found him so.
Had. But others have,
If oracles be true.
Tam. Little we know
Of them; and nothing of their dire offence. Had. I meant not to displease, love; but my soul
Beloved princess. Why distrust my faith? Tam. Thou know'st, alas, my weakness; but remember,
I never, never will be thine, although The feast, the blessing, and the song were past, Though Absalom and David called me bride, Till sure thou own'st, with truth, and love The Lord Jehovah. [sincere,
Had. Leave me not-Hear, hear
I do believe-I know that Being lives [know Whom you adore. Ah! stay-by proofs I
Sometimes revolts, because I think thy nature Shudders at him and yonder bloody rites. How dreadful! when the world awakes to Which Moses had not. light, }
And life, and gladness, and the jocund tide
Morning ushered by a murdered victim, Whose wasting members reek upon the air, Polluting the pure firmament; the shades Of evening scent of death; almost, the shrine O'ershadowed by the holy Cherubim ; And where the clotted current from the altar Mixes with Kedron, all its waves are gore. Nay, nay, I grieve thee-'tis not for myself, But that I fear these gloomy things oppress VOL. VI. Nos. 87 & 88.
Tam. Prince, unclasp my hand. [Exit. Had. Untwine thy fetters if thou canst.- How sweet
To watch the struggling softness! It allays The beating tempest of my thoughts, and flows Like the nepenthe of elysium through me. How exquisite! Like subtlest essences, She fills the spirit! How the girdle clips Her taper waist with its resplendent clasp! Her bosom's silvery-swelling network yields Ravishing glimpses, like sweet shade and Checkering Astarte's statue- [moonshire
SENTIMENTAL, LYRICAL, AND LUDICROUS.
ODES, SONNETS, NARRATIVES, &c.
Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn, [unholy; 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights Find out some uncouth cell, [wings, Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous And the night-raven sings;
There, under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks,
As ragged as thy locks,
In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. But come, thou goddess, fair and free, In heav'n yclep'd Euphrosyne, And by men heart-easing Mirth, Whom lovely Venus at a birth, With two sister Graces more, To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore Or whether (as some sages sing) The frolic wind that breathes the spring, Zephyr, with Aurora playing, As he met her once a-Maying, There on beds of violets blue, And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew, Fill'd her with thee, a daughter fair, So buxom, blithe, and debonair; Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful jollity,
Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport, that wrinkled care derides And Laughter holding both his sides:
Come, and trip it as you go, On the light fantastic toe, And in thy right hand lead with thee The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; And, if I give thee honor due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free; To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing, startle the dull night, From his watch-tow'r in the skies, Till the dapple dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good-morrow, Through the sweet-brier or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine: While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack, or the barn door, Stoutly struts his dames before; Oft list'ning how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumb'ring morn, From the side of some hoar hill, Through the high wood echoing shrill : Some time walking, not unseen, By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green, Right against the eastern gate, Where the great sun begins his state, Rob'd in flames, and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight; While the ploughman near at hand Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, And the milk-maid singing blithe, And the mower whets his sithe,
And ev'ry shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landscape round it measures; Russet lawns, and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray; Mountains, on whose barren breast The lab'ring clouds do often rest; Meadows trim, with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide. Tow'rs and battlements it sees, Bosom'd high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The Cynosure of neighb'ring eyes. Hard by, a cottage-chimney smokes From betwixt two aged oaks, Where Corydon and Thyrsis met, Are at their savory dinner set
Of herbs, and other country messes, Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses And then in haste her bow'r she leaves, With Thestylis to bind the sheaves; Or, if the earlier season lead,
To the tann'd haycock in the mead. Sometimes with secure delight
The upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecks sound To many a youth and many a maid, Dancing in the chequer'd shade; And young and old come forth to play On a sunshine holiday.
Till the live-long day-light fail; Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, With stories told of many a feat, How fairy Mab the junkets eat; She was pinch'd and pull'd, she said, And he by friar's lanthorn led; Tells how the drudging goblin sweat, To earn his cream-bowl duly set, When, in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn, That ten day lab'rers could not end; Then lies him down the lubber fiend, And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength; And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings. Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, By whisp'ring winds soon lull'd asleep. Tow'red cities please us then, And the busy hum of men, Where throngs of knights and barons bold In weeds of peace high triumphs hold, With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit, or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend : There let Hymen oft appear In saffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp, and feast, and revelry, With mask, and antique pageantry, Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream.
Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on,
Or sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild. And ever against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to inmortal verse,
Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out, With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running; Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus' self may heave his head From golden slumber on a bed Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear Such strains as would have won the ear Of Pluto, to have quite set free His half-regain'd Eurydice. These delights, if thou canst give, Mirth, with thee I mean to live.
§ 2. Satan summons the fallen Angels. MILTON.
Is this the region, this the soil, the clime, Said then the lost Arch-angel, this the seat That we must change for Heav'n, this mourn ful gloom
For that celestial light? Be it so, since he Who now is Sov'reign, can dispose and bid What shall be right farthest from him is best, Whom reason hath equall'd, force hath made
Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields, Where joy for ever dwells: Hail Horrors, hail Infernal World, and thou profoundest Hell Receive thy new possessor; one who brings A mind not to be chang'd by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heav'n of Hell, a hell of Heav'n. What matter where, if I be still the same, And what I should be, all but less than he Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least
We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: Here we may reign secure, and, in my choice, To reign is worth ambition though in Hell: Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heav'n. But wherefore let we then our faithful friends, Th' associates and copartners of our loss, Lie thus astonish'd on th' oblivious pool, And call them not to share with us their part In this unhappy mansion, or once more, With rallied arms, to try what may be yet Regain'd in Heav'n, or what more lost in
So Satan spake, and him Beelzebub [Hell? Thus answer'd: Leader of those armies bright, Which but the Omnipotent none could have [pledge
If once they hear that voice, their liveliest Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
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