XXIII.

"O ye wild groves, O where is now your bloom!" (The Muse interprets thus his tender thought.)

Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom, "Of late so grateful in the hour of drought! "Why do the birds, that song and rapture brought "To all your bowers, their mansions now forsake? "Ah! why has fickle chance this ruin wrought? "For now the storm howls mournful through the brake, "And the dead foliage flies in many a shapeless flake.

XXIV.

"Where now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool, "And meads, with life, and mirth, and beauty crown'd! “Ah! see, th' unsightly slime, and sluggish pool, "Have all the solitary vale imbrown'd;

Fled each fair form, and mute each melting sound. "The raven croaks forlorn on naked spray.

86

And, hark! the river, bursting every mound, "Down the vale thunders; and with wasteful sway Uproots the grove, and rolls the shatter'd rocks away.

XXV.

"Yet such the destiny of all on earth:

"So flourishes and fades majestic man.
"Fair is the bud his vernal morn brings forth,
"And fostering gales a awhile the nursling fan.
"O smile, ye heavens, serene; ye mildews wan,
"Ye blighting whirlwinds, spare his balmy prime,
"Nor lessen of his life the little span.

"Borne on the swift, though silent, wings of Time, "Old age comes on apace to ravage all the clime.

XXVI.

"And be it so. Let those deplore their doom,
"Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn.
But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb,
"Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn.
"Shall spring to these sad scenes no more return?
"Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed?
"Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn,
"And spring shall soon her vital influence shed,
Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead.

XXVII.

"Shall I be left forgotten in the dust,

"When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive?
"Shall nature's voice, to man alone unjust,

"Bid him, though doom'd to perish, hope to live?
"Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive
"With disappointment, penury, and pain?
"No: Heaven's immortal spring shall yet arrive ;
"And man's majestic beauty bloom again,

"Bright thro' th' eternal year of love's triumphant reign.”

XXVIII.

This truth sublime his simple sire had taught.
In sooth 't was almost all the shepherd knew.
No subtle nor superfluous lore he sought,
Nor ever wish'd his Edwin to pursue.

"Let man's own sphere (said he) confine his view,
"Be man's peculiar work his sole delight."
And much, and oft, he warn'd him to eschew
Falsehood and guile, and aye maintain the right,
By pleasure unseduced, unawed by lawless might.

XXIX.

"And, from the prayer of Want, and plaint of Wo, "O never, never turn away thine ear!

"Forlorn, in this bleak wilderness below,

"Ah! what were man, should Heaven refuse to hear "To others do (the law is not severe)

"What to thyself thou wishest to be done.

Forgive thy foes; and love thy parents dear,

"And friends, and native land; nor those alone;

All human weal and wo learn thou to make thine own.”

XXX.

See, in the rear of the warm sunny shower,
The visionary boy from shelter fly!

For now the storm of summer-rain is o'er,
And cool, and fresh, and fragrant is the sky.
And, lo in the dark east, expanded high,
The rainbow brightens to the setting sun!
Fond fool, that deem'st the streaming glory nigh,
How vain the chace thine ardor has begun!
Tis fled afar, ere half thy purposed race be run..

XXXI.

Yet couldst thou learn, that thus it fares with age, When pleasure, wealth, or power the bosom warm, This baffled hope might tame thy manhood's rage, And Disappointment of her sting disarm.

But why should foresight thy fond heart alarm? Perish the lore that deadens young desire ! Pursue, poor imp, th' imaginary charm, Indulge gay Hope, and Fancy's pleasing fire: Fancy and Hope too soon shall of themselves expire.

XXXII.

When the long-sounding curfew from afar
Loaded with loud lament the lonely gale,
Young Edwin, lighted by the evening star,
Lingering and listening wander'd down the vale.
There would he dream of graves, and corses pale
And ghosts that to the charnel-dungeon throng,
And drag a length of clanking chain and wail,
Till silenced by the owl's terrific song,

Or blast that shrieks by fits the shuddering isles along.

XXXIII.

Or, when the setting moon, in crimson dyed, Hung o'er the dark and melancholy deep, To haunted stream, remote from man, he hied, Where Fays of yore their revels wont to keep; And there let Fancy rove at large, till sleep A vision brought to his entranced sight. And first, a wildly murmuring wind 'gan creep Shrill to his ringing ear; then tapers bright, With instantaneous gleam, illunied the vault of night.

XXXIV.

Anon in view a portal's blazon'd arch
Arose; the trumpet bids the valves unfold;
And forth an host of little warriors march,
Grasping the diamond lance, and targe of gold.
Their look was gentle, their demeanour bold,
And green their helms, and green their silk attire;
And here and there, right venerably old,

The long robed minstrels wake the warbling wire, And some with mellow breath the martial pipe inspire.

XLIII.

Ah me! neglected on the lonesome plain,
As yet poor Edwin never knew your lore,
Save when against the winter's drenching rain,
And driving snow, the cottage shut the door,
Then, as instructed by tradition hoar,
Her legend when the Beldame 'gan impart,
Or chant the old heroic ditty o'er,

Wonder and joy ran thrilling to his heart;

Much he the tale admired, but more the tuneful art.
XLIV.

Various and strange was the long-winded tale;
And halls, and knights, and feats of arms, display'd;
Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing, enamour'd of the nut-brown maid;
The moon-light revel of the fairy glade ;
Or hags, that suckle an infernal brood,
And ply in caves th' unutterable trade*,

'Midst fiends and spectres, quench the moon in blood, Yell in the midnight storm, or ride th' infuriate flood. XLV.

But when to horror his amazement rose,

A gentler strain the Beldame would rehearse,

A tale of rural life, a tale of woes,

The orphan-babes, and guardian uncle fierce.
O cruel! will no pang of pity pierce

That heart by lust of lucre sear'd to stone?
For sure,
if aught of virtue last, or verse,
To latest times shall tender souls bemoan

Those hopeless orphan-babes by thy fell arts undone.

XLVI.

Behold, with berries smear'd, with brambles torn†,
The babes now famish'd lay them down to die.
Amidst the howl of darksome woods forlorn,
Folded in one another's arms they lie ;

Nor friend, nor stranger, hears their dying cry:
"For from the town, the man returns no more."

But thou, who Heaven's just vengeance darest defy, This deed with fruitless tears shalt soon deplore, When Death lays waste thy house, and flames consume thy

store.

* Allusion to Shakespeare.

Macbeth. How now, ye secret, black, and midnight hags, What is't you do?

Witches. A deed without a name. Macbeth, Act IV, Scene I.

+ See the fine old ballad, called, The Children in the Wood.

XLVII.

A stifled smile of stern vindictive joy

Brighten'd one moment Edwin's starting tear,
"But why should gold man's feeble mind decoy,
"And Innocence thus die by doom severe ?"
O Edwin! while thy heart is yet sincere,
Th' assaults of discontent and doubt repel :
Dark even at noontide is our mortal sphere;
But let us hope; to doubt is to rebel;
Let us exult in hope, that all shall yet be well.

XLVIII.

:

Nor be thy generous indignation check'd,
Nor check'd the tender tear to Misery given;
From Guilt's contagious power shall that protect,
This soften and refine the soul for Heaven.

But dreadful is their doom, whom doubt has driven
To censure Fate, and pious Hope forego:
Like yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven,
Perfection, beauty, life, they never know,
But frown on all that pass, a monument of wo.

XLIX.

Shall he, whose birth, maturity, and age,
Scarce fill the circle of one summer day,
Shall the poor gnat with discontent and rage
Exclaim, that Nature hastens to decay,

If but a cloud obstruct the solar ray,

If but a momentary shower descend!

Or shall frail man Heaven's dread decree gainsay,
Which bade the series of events extend

Wide through unnumber'd worlds and ages without end?

L.

One part, one little part, we dimly scan
Through the dark medium of life' feverish dream;
Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan,
If but that little part incongruous seem.
Nor is that part perhaps what mortals deem ;
Oft from apparent ill our blessings rise.
O then renounce that impious self-esteem,
That aims to trace the secrets of the skies;
For thou art but of dust; be humble, and be wise,

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