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Then was I pleased in lonely ways to tread,
And muse on tragic tales of lovers dead;
For all the merit I could then desery
In man or woman was for love to die.

On man a kind of dignity they shed,
A sort of gloomy pomp about his bed:
Then if he leaves them, go where'er he will,
They have a claim upon his body still;
Nay, when they quit him, as they some-I mused on charmers chaste, who pledged

times do,

What is there left t' enjoy or to pursue?
But dost thou love this woman?" Ö! beyond
What I can tell thee of the true and fond:
Hath she not soothed me, sick, enrich'd me,
poor,

And banish'd death and misery from my door?
Has she not cherish'd every moment's bliss,
And made an Eden of a world like this?
When Care would strive with us his watch
to keep,

Has she not sung the snarling fiend to sleep?
And when Distress has look'd us in the face,
Has she not told him, thou art not Disgrace?

"I must behold her, Richard; I must see
This patient spouse who sweetens misery
But didst thou need, and wouldst thou not
apply?

Nay thou wert right—but then how wrong
was I!"
"My indiscretion was-" "No more repeat;
Would I were nothing worse than indis-

creet ;

But still there is a plea that I could bring,
Had I the courage to describe the thing.'
"Then thou too, Brother, couldst of weak-
ness tell;

Thou, too, hast found the wishes that rebel
Against the sovereign reason; at some time
Thou hast been fond, heroic, and sublime;
Wrote verse, it may be, and for one dear
maid

The sober purposes of life delay'd;
From year to year the fruitless chase pursued,
And hung enamour'd o'er the flying good:
Then be thy weakness to a Brother shown,
And give him comfort who displays his own."
"Ungenerous youth! dost thou presuming ask
A man so grave his failings to unmask?
What if I tell thee of a waste of time,
That on my spirit presses as a crime,
Wilt thou despise me?-I, who, soaring, fell
So late to rise-Hear then the tale I tell;
Who tells what thou shalt hear, esteems

his hearer well."

Yes, my dear Richard, thou shalt hear me

Own

their truth,

And left no more the once-accepted youth;
Though he disloyal, lost, diseased, became,
The widow'd turtle's was a deathless flame;
This faith, this feeling gave my soul delight,
Truth in the lady, ardour in the knight.
I built me castles wondrous rich and rare,
Few castle-builders could with me compare;
The hall, the palace, rose at my command,
And these I fill'd with objects great and
grand.

Virtues sublime, that nowhere else would
live,

Glory and pomp, that I alone could give; Trophies and thrones by matchless valour gain'd,

Faith unreproved, and chastity unstain'd;
With all that soothes the sense and charms
the soul,

Came at my call, and were in my control.
And who was I? a slender youth and tall,
In manner awkward, and with fortune
small;

With visage pale, my motions quick and
slow,

That fall and rising in the spirits show ;
For none could more by outward signs express
What wise men lock within the mind's recess;
Had I a mirror set before my view,
I might have seen what such a form could do;
Had I within the mirror truth beheld,
I should have such presuming thoughts
repell❜d:

But awkward as I was, without the grace
That gives new beauty to a form or face;
Still I expected friends most true to prove,
And grateful, tender, warm, assiduous love.
Assured of this, that love's delicious bond
Would hold me ever faithful, ever fond;
It seem'd but just that I in love should find
A kindred heart as constant and as kind.
Give me, I cried, a beauty; none on earth
Of higher rank or nobler in her birth;
Pride of her race, her father's hope and care,
Yet meek as children of the cottage are;
Nursed in the court, and there by love
pursued,

But fond of peace, and blest in solitude;
By rivals honour'd, and by beauties praised,
Yet all unconscious of the envy raised;
Suppose her this, and from attendants freed,
To want my prowess in a time of need,
When safe and grateful she desires to show
She feels the debt that she delights to owe,
And loves the man who saved her in distress
So Fancy will'd, nor would compound for less.

Follies and frailties thou hast never known;
Thine was a frailty,-folly, if you please,
But mine a flight, a madness, a disease.
Turn with me to my twentieth year, for then
The lover's frenzy ruled the poet's pen;
When virgin reams were soil'd with lays of
love
The flinty hearts of fancied nymphs to move: In some sweet solitude, in some green bower,

This was my dream. In some auspicions hour,

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Yet in this world there was a single scene, That I allow'd with mine to intervene; This house, where never yet my feet had stray'd,

I with respect and timid awe survey'd; With pleasing wonder I have oft-times stood,

To view these turrets rising o'er the wood; When Fancy to the halls and chambers flew, Large, solemn, silent, that I must not view; The moat was then, and then o'er all the ground

Tall elms and ancient oaks stretch'd far around;

And where the soil forbad the nobler race, Dwarf-trees and humbler shrubs had found their place,

Forbidding man in their close hold to go, Haw, Gatter, Holm, the Service and the Sloe; With tangling weeds that at the bottom grew, And Climbers all above their feathery branches threw. Nor path of man or beast was there espied, But there the birds of darkness loved to hide, The loathed toad to lodge, and speckled snake to glide.

To me this hall, thus view'd in part, appear'd A mansion vast; I wonder'd, and I fear'd: There as I wander'd, Fancy's forming eye Could gloomy cells and dungeons dark espy; Winding through these, I caught th' appalling sound

Of troubled souls, that guilty minds confound,

Where murder made its way, and mischief stalk'd around.

Above the roof were raised the midnight storms,

And the wild lights betray'd the shadowy
forms.
and fancies, then so
dear,

With all these flights
I reach'd the birthday of my twentieth

year; And in the evening of a day in June Was singing-as I sang-some heavenly tune;

My native tone, indeed, was harsh and hoarse, But he who feels such powers can sing of

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So was I singing, when I saw descend From this old seat a lady and her friend ; Downward they came with steady pace and Arm link'd in arm, to bless my world below. slow, I knew not yet if they escaped, or chose Their own free way,-if they had friends or foes,But near to my dominion drew the pair, Link'd arm in arm, and walk'd conversing, there.

I saw them ere they came, myself unseen,
My lofty fence and thorny bound between-
And one alone, one matchless face I saw,
And, though at distance, felt delight and awe:
Fancy and truth adorn'd her; fancy gave
Much, but not all; truth help'd to make
their slave;

For she was lovely, all was not the vain
Or sickly homage of a fever'd brain;
No! she had beauty, such as they admire
Whose hope is earthly, and whose love
desire;

Imagination might her aid bestow,
But she had charms that only truth could
show.

Their dress was such as well became the place,

But One superior; hers the air, the grace, The condescending looks, that spoke the

nobler race.

Slender she was and tall: her fairy-feet ̧
Bore her right onward to my shady seat;
And O! I sigh'd that she would nobly dare
To come, nor let her friend th' adventure
share;

But see how I in my dominion reign,
And never wish to view the world again.

Thus was I musing, seeing with my eyes
These objects, with my mind her fantasies,
And chiefly thinking-is this maid, divine
As she appears, to be this queen of mine?
Have I from henceforth beauty in my view,
Not airy all, but tangible and true?
Here then I fix, here bound my vagrant
views,

And here devote my heart, my time, my muse.

She saw not this, though ladies early trace Their beauty's power, the glories of their face;

Yet knew not this fair creature-could not know

That new-born love! that I too soon must
show:

And I was musing-how shall I begin?
How make approach my unknown way to win,
And to that heart, as yet untouch'd, make
known

The wound, the wish, the weakness of my
own?

Such is my part, but-Mercy! what alarm?
Dare aught on earth that sovereign beauty

harm?

Again—the shrieking charmers-how they

rend

The gentle air The shrickers lack friend

a

They are my princess and th' attendant maid
In so much danger, and so much afraid!
But whence the terror?-Let me haste and

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Was cach a cow like that which challenged
Guy,

|

I now had time my business to behold,
And did not like it—let the truth be told:
The cows, though cowards, yet in numbers
strong,

Like other mobs, by might defended wrong;
In man's own pathway fix'd, they seem'd
disposed

For hostile measure, and in order closed,
Then halted near me, as I judged, to treat,
Before we came to triumph or defeat.
I was in doubt: 'twas sore disgrace, I knew,
To turn my back, and let the cows pursue;
And should I rashly mortal strife begin,
"Twas all unknown who might the battle win;
And yet to wait, and neither fight nor fly,
Would mirth create,-I could not that deny;
It look❜d as if for safety I would treat,
Nay, sue for peace-No! rather come defeat!
Look to me, loveliest of thy sex! and give
One cheering glance, and not a cow shall live;
For lo! this iron bar, this strenuous arm,
And those dear eyes to aid me as a charm.

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So thought the maid, who now, beyond the
stile,

Received her champion with a gracious
smile;
Who now had leisure on those charms to
dwell,

That he could never from his thought expel ;
There are, I know, to whom a lover seems,
Praising his mistress, to relate his dreams;
But, Richard, looks like those, that angel-face
Could I no more in sister-angel trace;
O! it was more than fancy! it was more
Than in my darling views I saw before,
When I my idol made, and my allegiance

I had resolved t' attack it, and defy
In mortal combat! to repel or die.
That was no time to parley—or to say,
I will protect you-fly in peace away!
Lo! yonder stile-but with an air of grace,
As I supposed, I pointed to the place.
The fair ones took me at my sign, and flew,
Each like a dove, and to the stile withdrew;
Where safe, at distance, and from terrors Henceforth 'twas bliss upon that face to

free,

swore.

dwell,

They turn'd to view my beastly foes and me. Till every trace became indelible;

I blest the cause of that alarm, her fright, | Such, my dear Richard, was my early flame,
And all that gave me favour in her sight,
Who then was kind and grateful, till my

mind,

Pleased and exulting, awe awhile resign'd.
For in the moment when she feels afraid,
How kindly speaks the condescending maid;
She sees her danger near, she wants her
lover's aid;

My youthful frenzy-give it either name;
It was the withering bane of many a year,
That past away in causeless hope and fear;
The hopes, the fears, that every dream
could kill,

Or make alive, and lead my passive will.
At length I learnt one name my angel bore,
And Rosabella I must now adore;
Yet knew but this-and not the favour'd
place

As fire electric, when discharged, will strike
All who receive it, and they feel alike,
So in the shock of danger and surprise
Our minds are struck, and mix, and sym-Nor where, admired, the sweet enchantress

pathise.

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0! my dear Richard, what a waste of time
Gave I not thus to lunacy sublime;
What days, months, years, (to useful pur-
pose lost)

That held the angel or th' angelic race;

dwelt,

But I had lost her-that, indeed, I felt.
Yet, would I say, she will at length be mine!
Did ever hero hope or love resign?
Though men oppose, and fortune bids despair,
She will in time her mischief well repair,
And I, at last, shall wed this fairest of the
fair!

My thrifty uncle, now return'd, began
To stir within me what remain'd of man;
My powerful frenzy painted to the life,
And ask'd me if I took a dream to wife?
Debate ensued, and though not well content,
Upon a visit to his house I went:
He, the most saving of mankind, had still
Some kindred feeling; he would guide my
will,

And teach me wisdom-so affection wrought,
That he to save me from destruction sought:
To him destruction, the most awful curse
Of Misery's children, was an empty purse!
He his own books approved, and thought
the pen

An useful instrument for trading men;
But judged a quill was never to be slit
Except to make it for a merchant fit:
He, when inform'd how men of taste could
write,

Look'd on his ledger with supreme delight;
Then would he laugh, and, with insulting joy,
Tell me aloud, that's poetry, my boy;
These are your golden numbers-them

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repeat,

The more you have, the more you'll find them sweetTheir numbers move all hearts-no matter for their feet.

Has not this dire infatuation cost?
To this fair vision I, a bounded slave, Sir, when a man composes in this style,
Time, duty, credit, honour, comfort, gave; What is to him a critic's frown or smile?
Gave all and waited for the glorious things What is the puppy's censure or applause
That hope expects, but fortune never brings. To the good man who on his banker draws,
Yet let me own, while I my fault reprove, Buys an estate, and writes upon the grounds,
There is one blessing still affix'd to love-Pay to A. B. an hundred thousand pounds?
To love like mine-for, as my soul it drew Thus, my dear nephew, thus your talents
From Reason's path, it shunn'd Dishonour's
prove;
Leave verse to poets, and the poor to love.'
Some months I suffer'd thus, compell'd to sit
And hear a wealthy kinsman aim at wit;
Yet there was something in his nature good,
And he had feeling for the tie of blood:
So while I languish'd for my absent maid
I some observance to my uncle paid.

too;

It made my taste refined, my feelings nice,
And placed an angel in the way of vice.
This angel now, whom I no longer view'd,
Far from this scene her destined way pursued;
No more that mansion held a form so fair,
She was away, and beauty was not there.

Had you inquired? said Richard. I had placed

Inquirers round, but nothing could be traced;
Of every reasoning creature at C.is Hall,
And tenant near it, I applied to all—
Tell me if she-and I described her well-
Dwelt long a guest, or where retired to
dwell?
But no! such lady they remember'd not-
They saw that face, strange beings! and
forgot.

Nor was inquiry all; but I pursued
My soul's first wish, with hope's vast
strength endued:

I cross'd the seas, I went where strangers go, And gazed on crowds as one who dreads a foe,

Or seeks a friend; and, when I sought in vain, Fled to fresh crowds, and hoped, and gazed again.

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Of mental suffering! they o'erthrew my powers,

And made my mind unsteady-I have still, At times, a feeling of that nameless ill, That is not madness-I could always tell My mind was wandering-knew it was not well;

Felt all my loss of time, the shameful waste Of talents perish'd, and of parts disgraced: But though my mind was sane, there was a void

My understanding seem'd in part destroy'd; I thought I was not of my species one, But unconnected, injured, and undone.

While in this state, once more my uncle pray'd

That I would hear-I heard, and I obey'd;
For I was thankful that a being broke
On this my sadness, or an interest took
In my poor life-but, at his mansion, rest
Came with its halcyon stillness to my breast:
Slowly there enter'd in my mind concern
For things about me-I would something
learn,

And to my uncle listen; who with joy, Found that ev'n yet I could my powers employ,

Till I could feel new hopes my mind possess, Of ease at least, if not of happiness:

Till, not contented, not in discontent,
As my good uncle counsell'd, on I went;
Conscious of youth's great error-nay, the
crime

Of manhood now-a dreary waste of time! Conscious of that account which I must give

How life had past with me-I strove to live.

Had I, like others, my first hope attain'd, I must, at least, a certainty have gain'd; Had I, like others, lost the hope of youth, Another hope had promised greater truth; But I in baseless hopes, and groundless views,

Was fated time, and peace, and health to lose, Impell'd to seek, for ever doom'd to fail, Is I distress you-let me end my tale.

Something one day occurr'd about a bill That was not drawn with true mercantile skill,

And I was ask'd and authorized to go
To seek the firm of Clutterbuck and Co.;
Their hour was past-but when I urged
the case,

There was a youth who named a second place;

Where, on occasions of important kind,
I might the man of occupation find
In his retirement, where he found repose
From the vexations that in business rose.
I found, though not with case, this private

seat

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I gave them both; and, left to be amused, Well as I might, the parlour I perused. The shutters half unclosed, the curtains fell Half down, and rested on the window-sill, And thus, confusedly, made the room half visible:

Late as it was, the little parlour bore
Some tell-tale tokens of the night before;
There were strange sights and scents about
the room,

Of food high season'd, and of strong perfume;
Two unmatch'd sofas ample rents display'd,
Carpet and curtains were alike decay'd;
A large old mirror, with once-gilded frame,
Reflected prints that I forbear to name,

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