Among the common herd of humankind.
Those dreams are gone, and when my
My name will be forgotten-when my grave
Is sunk and levelled with the earth, no one
Shall know that such a man hath been.
Why should I dream of fame, or anything
Above the common herd of humankind?
Why, I am lower than the lowest even
Of that contentious crowd, at least some men
Would have it so-men who more strictly watch
The actions of another than their own-
Who fail to look into their secret thoughts,
As God commands, yet ready to traduce
A neighbour's character, which God forbids.
Go, evil ones! and with the beasts of prey
Herd in the forest, for ye are not fit
For the society of humankind,
Where all should be benevolence and love.
Yet think not, slanderers! that I feel your power;
No! Heaven preserve my mind as it is now,
And I shall, while I breathe, scorn the attacks
Of feeble men, who think that they possess
A venom that may hurt me. They are wrong-
They are as harmless to me as the toad,
That wants the virtue it is dreaded for
Among the vulgar.
Beloved friend! we know there are a few
(Like flowers among a wilderness of weeds)
Upon whose love our spirits may repose
In perfect safety.-On the love of one,
A maid most beautiful, yea, and most pure,
I once reposed-but she is in her grave.
Oh! I have looked upon that empty chair
That stands right opposite, and fancied her
Even there, in all her beauty-seen her smile,
And felt her soft words slide into my heart.
But when the vision fled, how have I wept
To think of her cold dwelling, while I sate
In peace and comfort by a warm fire-side!
Yet, 'mid this loneliness and grief of heart,
I still possess a comfort-when I weave
My melancholy songs, methinks her soul
Hovers around me, and with pleasure hears
Her name breathed from my lips. Yes! while I feel
By every aspiration of my mind,
By every beating of my heart, that I
Possess a soul, which God will not allow
To slumber in the grave, I must believe
That those departed souls act to the friends
They leave behind them as their guardian angels;
Yea, how could those departed souls be blest,
Torn from their weeping families like boughs
Cut from the living trees, unless they hold,
In those sweet dreams that come upon our sleep,
Communion with their kindred, and inspire
Thoughts of a higher mood than ever bless
Our waking moments.
Those wildering thoughts, until my mind forgot
Its earthly nature, and the duties too
Who has to labour for the needful things
Of this existence. 'Tis a duty sure
To leave at times the grovellings of this earth
And soar in fancy to that better world
We hope to call our home; but if mankind
Neglect the due performance of the part
Assigned them here below, it is in vain
To cherish hopes of happiness in heaven.
Yes! I must think more calmly, and forsake
Those visionary themes, that, while they charm,
Weaken the powers of mind. I must attend
To all my avocations, as I did
In former happy days, when I arose
Even with the sun, and saw before mine eyes
A beauteous prospect all beneath my care:—
The flocks
upon the mountain's side-the kine
Low in the vale-the ploughboy in the field,
Whistling a merry catch to cheer his team-
A happy group, upon the new-mown mead,
Of youths and maids, raising a choral song
In pleasing unison with woodland birds
Warbling unseen among the neighbouring palms.
Oh, 'mid those happy beings, I partook
Of happiness, and of the purest kind;
For when I looked upon this beauteous world
And all its harmony, I could not think
But that all mankind were my friends.-Alas!
Experience proved the falsity of all
Those cherished expectations. Yet I still
Cherished an expectation of a kind
Perhaps more interesting; for I thought
The gentle being I had singled out,
And loved with greatest tenderness among
God's intellectual creatures, would ere long
Partake my little hearth.-Ah! that fair moon,
That enters now my window, oft beheld,
About the curfew hour of former days,
A happy being stealing through the vale
To that maid's straw-roofed cottage-now beholds
That happy being but a desolate wretch,
Wandering, at midnight, by the cold white stone
That tells where she is laid.
Where many spirits dwell that I have loved
On this unhappy earth, to you my thoughts
With undefinable emotions turn,
Even as a mother's to the distant land
Where her fair boy sojourns-her hopeful boy,
By absence rendered dearer than them all
Who dwell with her at home; but tho' she feels
For him more tenderly, and with that love
We bear unto the dead, yet will her heart
Attend unto the comforts of them all,
So must I act. Though some beloved friends
Have left me for another, better world,
Should I for ever brood upon their loss,
Unnerve each faculty, and hence become
Unfit for all the bustle of this life-
Even as a three years' child?—No, it is wrong!
And though upon my solitary walks,
And in my dreams, I hold communion sweet
With the departed, yet my heart will glow
With as strong love as it hath ever glowed
For earthly friends, and some kind friends I have
In this bad world, whom I respect and love.
Yes! parents, brothers, sisters, and some ties
Of friendship, though but few, that ne'er can break
Either in this or in a future world.
One of the strongest, my dear friend! hast thou
Twined round my heart, to whom I dedicate
This little melancholy song. O come,
As thou wast wont of yore, and cheer my home
With that sweet converse that for ever charms!
O come, and see if thou canst still revive
The happiness that thou hast oft beheld,
And shared with me-upon this Lonely Hearth!
THERE passed a melancholy maid
Along our quiet vale,
And none could learn from whence she strayed,
And none could tell her tale.
Oh, like a lovely flower she seemed
Long beaten by the storm,
Or like a shape that we have dreamed,
So bright her eyes' wild radiance gleamed!
So slender was her form!
* The description of this Maniac, which I have here versified, was given me by a young lady in Dumfriesshire, for whose elegance and cultivation of mind I have the highest respect.
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