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A cup of consolation, filled from Heaven
I have found him.--
Idon. Here art thou, then can I be desolate?
Idon. Wild words for me to hear, for me, an orphan,
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
For closer care; – here, is no malady.
[Taking his arm. Has overwhelmed him.-I must follow.
Mar. There, is a malady-
Lady! (Striking his heart and forehead.) And here, and here,
All nature curses me, and in my heart
It must be told, and borne. I am the man,
(Abused, betrayed, but how it matters not)
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!
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;
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
Miserable woman, thee.
Too quickly moved, too easily giving way,
With the disastrous issue of last night,
[Turns to MARMADUKE. Be calm, I pray thee! My faithful, true, and only comforter.
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
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
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
Above, or sunk below, all further sense
Coward I have been; know, there lies not now
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.
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.)
A rash deed: [He walks about distractedly. With that reproof I do resign a station
Of which I have been proud.
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,
Several of the band (eagerly.) Captain!
Mar. No more of that; in silence hear my doom:
Like the old Roman, on their own sword's point.
POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH.
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.
Primroses, the spring may love them –
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.
Loving she is, and tractable, though wild;