The Complete Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, Late Poet Laureate

Gave me a hearty welcome; they had laid
The plot to rid themselves, at any cost,
Of a tyrannic master whom they loathed.

So we pursued our voyage: when we landed,

The tale was spread abroad; my power at once

Shrunk from me; plans and schemes, and lofty hopes-
All vanished. I gave way-do you attend?

Mar. The crew deceived you?
Osw.

Nay, command yourself.
Mar. It is a dismal night—how the wind howls!
Osw. I hid my head within a convent, there
Lay passive as a dormouse in mid winter.
That was no life for me - I was o'erthrown,
But not destroyed.

Mar. The proofs-you ought to have seen The guilt-have touched it-felt it at your heart— As I have done.

Drove by the place of my retreat: three nights
Did constant meditation dry my blood;
Three sleepless nights I passed in sounding on,
Through words and things, a dim and perilous way;
And wheresoe'er I turned me, I beheld
A slavery compared to which the dungeon
And clanking chains are perfect liberty.
You understand me-I was comforted;
I saw that every possible shape of action
Might lead to good-I saw it and burst forth
Thirsting for some of those exploits that fill
The earth for sure redemption of lost peace.

[Marking MARMADUKE's countenance.
Nay, you have had the worst. Ferocity
Subsided in a moment, like a wind
That drops down dead out of a sky it vexed.
And yet I had within me evermore
A salient spring of energy; I mounted
From action up to action with a mind
That never rested-without meat or drink
Have I lived many days - my sleep was bound
To purposes of reason—not a dream
But had a continuity and substance
That waking life had never power to give.
Mar. O wretched human-kind!—Until the mystery
Of all this world is solved, well may we envy
The worm, that, underneath a stone whose weight
Would crush the lion's paw with mortal anguish,
Doth lodge, and feed, and coil, and sleep, in safety.
Fell not the wrath of Heaven upon those traitors?
Osw. Give not to them a thought. From Palestine
We marched to Syria: oft I left the camp,
When all that multitude of hearts was still,
And followed on, through woods of gloomy cedar,
Into deep chasms troubled by roaring streams;

I have been nourished by the sickly food
Of popular applause. I now perceived
That we are praised, only as men in us
Do recognise some image of themselves,
An abject counterpart of what they are,
Or the empty thing that they would wish to be.
I felt that merit has no surer test

Than obloquy; that, if we wish to serve

The world in substance, not deceive by show,
We must become obnoxious to its hate,

Or fear disguised in simulated scorn.

Mar. I pity, can forgive, you; but those wretches That monstrous perfidy!

Osw.

Keep down your wrath.
False Shame discarded, spurious Fame despised,
Twin sisters both of Ignorance, I found
Life stretched before me smooth as some broad way
Cleared for a monarch's progress. Priests might spin
Their veil, but not for me-'t was in fit place
Among its kindred cobwebs. I had been,
And in that dream had left my native land,

One of Love's simple bondsmen- the soft chain
Was off for ever; and the men, from whom
This liberation came, you would destroy:
Join me in thanks for their blind services.

Mar. "T is a strange aching that, when we would

curse

And cannot,-You have betrayed me-I have done-
I am content - I know that he is guiltless-
That both are guiltless, without spot or stain,
Mutually consecrated. Poor old man!
And I had heart for this, because thou lovedst
Her who from very infancy had been
Light to thy path, warmth to thy blood! - Together
[Turning to OsWALD.

We propped his steps, he leaned upon us both.
Osw. Ay, we are coupled by a chain of adamant;
Let us be fellow-labourers, then, to enlarge
Man's intellectual empire. We subsist
In slavery; all is slavery; we receive

Mar. Have you betrayed me? Speak to that.

Laws, but we ask not whence those laws have come;
We need an inward sting to goad us on.

The mask,

Elea. 'Tis my husband's foot. Good Eldred
Has a kind heart; but his imprisonment
Has made him fearful, and he'll never be
The man he was.

sw.

Which for a season I have stooped to wear,
Must be cast off. - Know then that I was urged,
(For other impulse let it pass) was driven

To seek for sympathy, because I saw

In you a mirror of my youthful self;

I would have made us equal once again,

But that was a vain hope. You have struck home,
With a few drops of blood cut short the business;
Therein for ever you must yield to me.

But what is done will save you from the blank
Of living without knowledge that you live:

Now you are suffering for the future day,

"T is his who will command it-Think of my story — Herbert is innocent.

Mar. (in a faint voice, and doubtingly.) You do but echo

My own wild words?

Osw.
Young man, the seed must lie
Hid in the earth, or there can be no harvest;
"Tis nature's law. What I have done in darkness
I will avow before the face of day.
Herbert is innocent.

Mar.

What fiend could prompt

This action? Innocent!-O, breaking heart!
Alive or dead, I'll find him.

Osw.

Alive-perdition!

[Exit.
[Exit.

SCENE, the inside of a poor Collage.

ELEANOR and IDONEA seated.

Idon. The storm beats hard-Mercy for poor or rich,
Whose heads are shelterless in such a night!
A Voice without. Holla! to bed, good folks, within!
Elea.
O save us!

Idon. What can this mean?
Elea.
Alas, for my poor husband!-
We'll have a counting of our flocks to-morrow;
The wolf keeps festival these stormy nights:
Be calm, sweet lady, they are wassailers

[The voices die away in the distance.
Returning from their feast my heart beats so—
A noise at midnight does so frighten me.
Idon. Hush!
Elea.

husband,

[Listening. They are gone. On such a night, my

Enter ELDRED, (hides a bundle.)

Eld. Not yet in bed, Eleanor! - there are stains in that frock which must be washed out.

Elea. What has befallen you?

Eld. I am belated, and you must know the cause(speaking low) that is the blood of an unhappy man. Elea. Oh! we are undone for ever.

Eld. Heaven forbid that I should lift my hand against any man. Eleanor, I have shed tears to-night, and it comforts me to think of it.

Elea. Where, where is he?

Eld. I have done him no harm, but it will be
forgiven me; it would not have been so once.
Elea. You have not buried any thing? You are no
richer than when you left me?

Eld. Be at peace; I am innocent.
Elea. Then God be thanked-

[A short pause; she falls upon his neck. Eld. To-night I met with an old man lying stretched upon the ground-a sad spectacle: I raised him up with a hope that we might shelter and restore him.

Elea. (as if ready to run.) Where is he? You were not able to bring him all the way with you; let us return, I can help you. [ELDRED shakes his head. Eld. He did not seem to wish for life: as I was struggling on, by the light of the moon I saw the stains of blood upon my clothes - he waved his hand as if it were all useless: and I let him sink again to the ground Elea. O, that I had been by your side!

Eld. I tell you his hands and his body were cold— how could I disturb his last moments? he strove to turn from me as if he wished to settle into sleep. Elea. But, for the stains of blood

Eld. He must have fallen, I fancy, for his bead was cut; but I think his malady was cold and hunger. Elea. O, Eldred, I shall never be able to look up at this roof in storm or fair but I shall tremble.

Eld. Is it not enough that my ill stars have kept me abroad to-night till this hour? I come home, and this is my comfort!

Elea. But did he say nothing which might have set you at ease?

Eld. I thought he grasped my hand while he was muttering something about his child—his daughter(starting as if he heard a noise.) What is that?

Elea. Eldred, you are a father.

Eld. God knows what was in my heart, and will not curse my son for my sake.

Elea. But you prayed by him? you waited the hour of his release?

Eld. The night was wasting fast; I have no friend; [Listening. I am spited by the world-his wound terrified me—if I

MARMADUKE appearing.

had brought him along with me, and he had died in my arms! I am sure I heard something breathing —

and this chair!

Elea. O, Eldred, you will die alone. You will have nobody to close your eyes-no hand to grasp your dying hand-I shall be in my grave. A curse will attend us all.

Eld. Have you forgot your own troubles when I was in the dungeon?

Elea. And you left him alive?

Eld. Alive!-the damps of death were upon himhe could not have survived an hour.

Elea. In the cold, cold night.

Eld. (in a savage tone.) Ay, and his head was bare; I suppose you would have had me lend my bonnet to cover it.You will never rest till I am brought to a felon's end.

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Elea. Is there nothing to be done? cannot we go to Who has a trick of straying from his keepers; We must be gentle: leave him to my care.

the Convent?

Elea. But let us make the attempt. This old man may have a wife, and he may have children-let us return to the spot; we may restore him, and his eyes may yet open upon those that love him.

Eld. He will never open them more; even when he spoke to me, he kept them firmly sealed as if he had been blind.

Idon. (rushing out.) It is, it is my fatherEld. We are betrayed. (looking at IDONEA.) Elea. His daughter!-God have mercy! (turning to IDONEA.)

[Exit Forester. If his own eyes play false with him, these freaks Of fancy shall be quickly tamed by mine; The goal is reached. My master shall become A shadow of myself— made by myself.

Idon. (sinking down.) Oh! lift me up and carry me The first hours of last night were rough with storm:

A lonesome chapel stands, deserted now: The bell is left, which no one dares remove;

For. He leaned upon the bridge that spans the glen, And, when the stormy wind blows o'er the peak,

And down into the bottom cast his eye,

That fastened there, as it would check the current.

Osw. He listened too; did you not say he listened? For. As if there came such moaning from the flood As is heard often after stormy nights.

Osw. But did he utter nothing?
For.

See him there!

It rings, as if a human hand were there

To pull the cord. I guess he must have heard it;
And it had led him towards the precipice,
To climb up to the spot whence the sound came;
But he had failed through weakness. From his hand
His staff had dropped, and close upon the brink
Of a small pool of water he was laid,

And know how busy are the tongues of men;
My heart was willing, Sir, but I am one
Whose good deeds will not stand by their own light;
And, though it smote me more than words can tell,
I left him.

Mar. I believe that there are phantoms,
That in the shape of man do cross our path
On evil instigation, to make sport

Of our distress and thou art one of them!
But things substantial have so pressed on me

Eld. My wife and children came into my mind. Mar. O, monster! monster! there are three of us, And we shall howl together.

[After a pause, and in a feeble voice. I am deserted

At my worst need, my crimes have in a net (Pointing to ELDRED.) Entangled this poor man.—

His

Where was it? where? [Dragging him along. Eld. 'Tis needless; spare your violence. daughter

Mar. Ay, in the word a thousand scorpions lodge: This old man had a daughter.

Eld. To the spot I hurried back with her.- O save me, Sir, From such a journey! there was a black tree, A single tree; she thought it was her father.O. Sir, I would not see that hour again For twenty lives. The daylight dawned, and now— Nay; hear my tale, 't is fit that you should hear itAs we approached, a solitary crow

Rose from the spot;- - the daughter clapped her hands, And then I heard a shriek so terrible

His body is at rest; there was a plot,

[MARMADUKE shrinks back. A hideous plot, against the soul of man:

The startled bird quivered upon the wing.

A cup of consolation, filled from Heaven
For both our needs; must I, and in thy presence,
Alone partake of it? - Beloved Marmaduke!

Mar. Give me a reason why the wisest thing
That the earth owns shall never choose to die,
But some one must be near to count his groans.
The wounded deer retires to solitude,

And dies in solitude: all things but man,

Oh! would that thou hadst perished in the flames!
Idon. Here art thou, then can I be desolate?
Mar. There was a time, when this protecting hand
Availed against the mighty; never more
Shall blessings wait upon a deed of mine.

Idon. Wild words for me to hear, for me, an orphan,
Committed to thy guardianship by Heaven;

All die in solitude. [Moving towards the cottage door. And, if thou hast forgiven ine, let me hope,

Mysterious God,

If she had never lived I had not done it!

Idon. Alas, the thought of such a cruel death Has overwhelmed him.-I must follow.

Eld.

Lady!

You will do well; (she goes) unjust suspicion may
· Cleave to this stranger: if, upon his entering,
The dead man heave a groan, or from his side
Uplift his hand that would be evidence.
Elea. Shame! Eldred, shame!
Mar. (both returning.)

one face. (to himself.)

In this deep sorrow, trust, that I am thine
For closer care; - here, is no malady.

(Striking his heart and forehead.) And here, and here,

A mortal malady. -I am accurst:

All nature curses me, and in my heart

Thy curse is fixed; the truth must be laid bare,

It must be told, and borne. I am the man,
(Abused, betrayed, but how it matters not)

The dead have but Presumptuous above all that ever breathed,
Who, casting as I thought a guilty person
Upon Heaven's righteous judgment, did become
An instrument of fiends. Through me, through me
Thy father perished.

And such a man-so meek and unoffending

Helpless and harmless as a babe: a man,

By obvious signal to the world's protection,

Solemnly dedicated

Thou didst command me to bless all mankind;
Nor to this moment have I ever wished

Evil to any living thing; but hear me,

Idon.
Perished by what mischance?
Mar. Beloved!-if I dared, so would I call thee-
Conflict must cease, and, in thy frozen heart,
The extremes of suffering meet in absolute peace.
[He gives her a letter.

Idon. (reads.) Be not surprised if you hear that some signal judgment has befallen the man who calls himself your father; he is now with me, as his signature will show: abstain from conjecture till you see me. 'HERBERT. MARMADUKE.'

The writing Oswald's; the signature my father's:

Hear me, ye Heavens!-(kneeling.)-may vengeance (Looks steadily at the paper.) And here is yours,

haunt the fiend

For this most cruel murder: let him live
And move in terror of the elements;

The thunder send him on his knees to prayer
In the open streets, and let him think he sees,
If e'er he entereth the house of God,

The roof, self-moved, unsettling o'er his head;
And let him, when he would lie down at night,
Point to his wife the blood-drops on his pillow!
Mar. My voice was silent, but my heart hath joined
thee.

Idon. (leaning on MARMADUKE.) Left to the mercy I put denial on thy suit, and hence,

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