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A cup of consolation, filled from Heaven

Mar.

I have found him.--
For both our needs; must I, and in thy presence, Oh! would that thou hadst perished in the flames!
Alone partake of it?— Beloved Marmaduke!

Idon. Here art thou, then can I be desolate?
Mar. Give me a reason why the wisest thing Mar. There was a time, when this protecting hand
That the earth owns shall never choose to die, Availed against the mighty; never more
But some one must be near to count his groans. Shall blessings wait upon a deed of mine.
The wounded deer retires to solitude,

Idon. Wild words for me to hear, for me, an orphan,
And dies in solitude: all things but man,

Committed to thy guardianship by Heaven; All die in solitude. [Moving towards the collage door. And, if thou hast forgiven me, let me hope, Mysterious God,

In this deep sorrow, trust, that I am thine
If she had never lived I had not done it!

For closer care; – here, is no malady.
Idon. Alas, the thought of such a cruel death

[Taking his arm. Has overwhelmed him.-I must follow.

L

Mar. There, is a malady-
Eld.

Lady! (Striking his heart and forehead.) And here, and here,
You will do well; (she goes) unjust suspicion may A mortal malady. – I am accurst:
Cleave to this stranger: if, upon his entering,

All nature curses me, and in my heart
The dead man heave a groan, or from his side Thy curse is fixed; the truth must be laid bare,
Uplift his hand - that would be evidence.

It must be told, and borne. I am the man,
Eleu. Shame! Eldred, shame!

(Abused, betrayed, but how it matters not)
Mar. (both returning.) The dead have but Presumptuous above all that ever breathed,
one face. (to himself.)

Who, casting as I thought a guilty person And such a man- 50 meek and unoffending –

Upon Heaven's righteous judgment, did become Helpless and harmless as a babe: a man,

An instrument of fiends. Through me, through me By obrious signal to the world's protection,

Thy father perished. Solemnly dedicated - to decoy him!

Idon.

Perished — by what mischance? Idon. O, had you seen him living!

Mar. Beloved !- if I dared, so would I call thee -Mar,

I (so filled Conflict must cease, and, in thy frozen heart, With horror is this world) am unto thee

The extremes of suffering meet in absolute peace. The thing most precious, that it now contains :

[He gives her a leller. Therefore through me alone must be revealed

Idon. (reads.) •Be not surprised if you hear that By whom thy parent was destroyed, Idonea !

some signal judgment has befallen the man who calls I have the proofs!

himself your father; he is now with me, as his signaIdon, 0, miserable father!

ture will show: abstain from conjecture till you see me. Thou didst command me to bless all mankind;

• HERBERT. Nor to this moment have I ever wished

• MARMADUKE.' Evil to any living thing; but hear me,

The writing Oswald's; the signature my father's: Hlear me, ye Heavens!—(kneeling.)-may vengeance (Looks steadily at the paper.) And here is yours, haunt the fiend

do my eyes deceive me? For this most cruel murder: let him live

You have then seen my father? And move in terror of the elements;

Mar.

He has leaned The thunder send him on his knees to prayer

Upon this arm. In the open streets, and let him think he sees,

Idon. You led him towards the convent? If e'er he entereth the house of God,

Mar. That convent was Stone-Arthur Castle. Thither The roof, self-moved, unsettling o'er his head; We were his guides. I on that night resolved And let him, when he would lie down at night,

That he should wait thy coming till the day Point to his wife the blood-drops on his pillow !

Of resurrection. Mar. My voice was silent, but my heart hath joined

Idon.

Miserable woman, thee.

Too quickly moved, too easily giving way,
Idon. (leaning on MarmadUKE.) Left to the mercy I put denial on thy suit, and hence,
of that savage man!

With the disastrous issue of last night,
How could he call upon his child !--O friend ! Thy perturbation, and these frantic words,

[Turns to MARMADUKE. Be calm, I pray thee! My faithful, true, and only comforter.

Mar.

Oswald Mar. Ay, come to me and weep. (He kisses her.) Idon.

Name him not. (To ELDRED.) Yes, varlet, look,

Enter female Beggar. The devils at such sights do clap their hands.

[ELDRED retires alarmed. Beg. And he is dead ! — that moor - how shall I Idon. Thy vest is torn, thy cheek is deadly pale;

cross it? Hazt thoo pursued the monster ?

By night, by day, never shall I be able

1

- Or

no, no, for he

To travel half a mile alone. - Good lady!

Your pupil is, you see, an apt proficient. (ironically.) Forgive me! -Saints forgive me. Had I thought Start not!-- Here is another face hard by; It would have come to this!

Come, let us take a peep at both together, Idon.

What brings you hither? speak! And, with a voice at which the dead will quake, Beg. (pointing to MARMADUKE). This innocent gen- Resound the praise of your moralitytleman. Sweet heavens! I told him

Of this too much. Such tales of your dead father! - God is my judge,

[Drawing OSWALD !owards the collage stops I thought there was no harm: but that bad

man,

short at the door. He bribed me with his gold, and looked so fierce.

Men are there, millions, Oswald, Mercy! I said I know not what —0, pity me

Who with bare hands would have plucked out thy heart I said, sweet lady, you were not his daughter

And flung it to the dogs: but I am raised
Pity me, I am haunted ; — thrice this day

Above, or sunk below, all further sense
My conscience made me wish to be struck blind; Of provocation. Leave me, with the weight
And then I would have prayed, and had no voice. Of that old man's forgiveness on thy heart,
Idon. (to MARMADUKE.) Was it my father?- no, Pressing as heavily as it doth on mine.

Coward I have been; know, there lies not now
Was meek, and patient, feeble, old and blind,

Within the compass of a mortal thought Helpless, and loved me dearer than his life.

A deed that I would shrink from ; – but to endure, But hear me. For one question, I have a heart That is my destiny. May it be thine: That will sustain me. Did you murder him?

Thy office, thy ambition, be henceforth Mar. No, not by stroke of arm. But learn the To feed remorse, to welcome every sting process :

Of penitential anguish, yea with tears. Proof after proof was pressed upon me; guilt

When seas and continents shall lie between us Made evident, as seemed, by blacker guilt,

The wider space the better we may find Whose impious folds enwrapped even thee; and truth

In such a course fit links of sympathy, And innocence, embodied in his looks,

An incommunicable rivalship His words and tones and gestures, did but serve

Maintained, for peaceful ends beyond our view. With me to aggravate his crimes, and heaped

[Confused voices several of the band enler Ruin upon the cause for which they pleaded.

rush upon Oswald and seize him. Then pity crossed the path of my resolve:

One of them. I would have dogged him to the jaws Confounded, I looked up to Heaven, and cast,

of hell! Idonea! thy blind father, on the ordeal

Osw. Ha! is it so !—That vagrant hag !-this comes Of the bleak waste — left him and so he died !- Of having left a thing like her alive! [ Aside [IDONEA sinks senseless; Beggar, ELEANOR, &c., Several voices. Despatch him! crowd round, and bear her off.

Osw.

If I pass bepeath a rock Why may we speak these things, and do no more ; And shout, and, with the echo of my voice, Why should a thrust of the arm have such a power, Bring down a heap of rubbish, and it crush me, And words that tell these things be heard in vain? I die without dishonour. Famished, starved, She is not dead. Why!— if I loved this woman, A fool and coward blended to my wish! I would take care she never woke again

[Smiles scornfully and exultingly al MARXADURE. But she will wake, and she will weep for me,

Wal. 'Tis done! (stabs him.)
And say, no blame was mine—and so, poor fool, Another of the band. The ruthless traitor!
Will waste her curses on another name.

Mar.

A rash deed: [He walks about distractedly. With that reproof I do resign a station

Of which I have been proud.
Enter OSWALD.

Wil. (approaching MARMADUKE.) O, my poor Oswald. (to himself.) Strong to o'erturn, strong master! also to build up.

[To MARMADUKE. Mar. Discerning monitor, my faithful Wilfred, The starts and sallies of our last encounter

Why art thou here? [Turning to WALLACE Were natural enough; but that, I trust,

Wallace, upon these Borders, Is all gone by. You have cast off the chains

Many there be whose eyes will not want cause That fettered your nobility of mind

To weep that I am gone. Brothers in arms! Delivered heart and head!

Raise on that dreary waste a monument

Let us to Palestine; That may record my story: nor let words This is a paltry field for enterprise.

Few must they be, and delicate in their touch Mar. Ay, what shall we encounter next? This As light itself — be there withheld from her issue

Who, through most wicked arts, was made an orphan 'T was nothing more than darkness deepening darkness, By one who would have died a thousand times, And weakness crowned with the impotence of death!- To shield her from a moment's harm. To you,

Wallace and Wilfred, I commend the lady,
By lowly nature reared, as if to make her
In all things worthier of that noble birth,
Whose long-suspended rights are now on the eve
Of restoration: with your tenderest care
Watch over her, I pray-sustain her

Several of the band (eagerly.) Captain!

Mar. No more of that; in silence hear my doom:
A hermitage has furnished fit relief
To some offenders; other penitents,
Less patient in their wretchedness, have fallen,

Like the old Roman, on their own sword's point.
They had their choice: a wanderer must I go,
The spectre of that innocent man, my guide.
No human ear shall ever hear me speak;
No human dwelling ever give me food,
Or sleep, or rest: but, over waste and wild,
In search of nothing that this earth can give,
But expiation, will I wander on -
A man by pain and thought compelled to live,
Yet loathing life-till anger is appeased
In Heaven, and mercy gives me leave to die.

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NOTES

TO

:

POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH.

juvenile poems.

Note 1, p. 25.

within the last two or three months unregarded among Of the Poems in this class, “The EVENING WALK” my papers, without being mentioned even to my most and " Descriptive SKETCHES” were first published in intimate friends. Having, however, impressions upon 1793. They are reprinted with some unimportant alte- my mind which made me unwilling to destroy the MS., rations that were chiefly made very soon after their I determined to undertake the responsibility of publishpublication

. It would have been easy to amend them, ing it during my own life, rather than impose upon my in many passages, both as to sentiment and expression, successors the task of deciding its fate. Accordingly and I have not been altogether able to resist the temp it has been revised with some care; but, as it was at tation : but attempts of this kind are made at the risk first written, and is now published, without any view to of injuring those characteristic features which, after all, its exhibition upon the stage, not the slightest alteration will be regarded as the principal recommendation of has been made in the conduct of the story, or the com

position of the characters; above all, in respect to the

two leading persons of the drama, I felt no inducement Note 2, p. 39.

to make any change. The study of human nature sug. * And, hovering, round it often did a raven fly.'

gests this awful truth, that, as in the trials to which life

subjects us, sin and crime are apt to start from their From a short MS. poem read to me when an under

very opposite qualities, so are there no limits to the graduate

, by my schoolfellow and friend, Charles Farish, hardening of the heart, and the perversion of the underlong since deceased. The verses were by a brother of

standing to which they may carry their slaves. During bis, a man of promising genius, who died young. my long residence in France, while the revolution was

rapidly advancing to its extreme of wickedness, I had Note 3, p. 45.

frequent opportunities of being an eye-witness of this "The Borderers.'

process, and it was while that knowledge was fresh This Dramatic Piece, as noticed in its title-page, was upon my memory, that the Tragedy of “The Borderers" composed in 1795–6. It lay nearly from that time till / was composed. — 1842.

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Primroses, the spring may love them –
Summer knows but little of them:
Violets, a barren kind,
Withered on the ground must lie;
Daisies leave no fruit behind
When the pretty flowerets die;
Pluck them, and another year
As many will be blowing here.

Float near me: do not yet depart ! Dead times revive in thee: Thou bringest, gay Creature as thou art: A solemn image to my heart, My Father's Family! Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days, The time, when, in our childish plays, My Sister Emmeline and I Together chased the Butterfly ! A very hunter did I rush Upon the prey:-with leaps and springs I followed on from brake to bush; But she, God love her! feared to brush The dust from off its wings.

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Loving she is, and tractable, though wild;
And Innocence hath privilege in her
To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes;
And feats of cunning; and the pretty round
Of trespasses, affected to provoke
Mock-chastisement and partnership in play.
And, as a fagot sparkles on the hearth,
Not less if unattended and alone
Than when both young and old sit gathered round
And take delight in its activity,
Even so this happy creature of herself
Is all-sufficient; solitude to her
Is blithe society, who fills the air
With gladness and involuntary songs.
Light are her sallies as the tripping Fawn's

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