O! it should stand recorded in all time, How they transgress'd, and he avenged the crime! In this bad world should all his business cease, He would not seek-he would not taste of peace; But wrath should live till vengeance had her due, And with his wrath his life should perish too. His girls-not his-he would not be so weakChild was a word he never more must speak! How did he know what villains had defiled His honest bed?—He spurn'd the name of child: Keep them he must; but he would coarsely hide Their forms, and nip the growth of woman's pride; He would consume their flesh, abridge their food, And kill the mother-vices in their blood. Sir Owen saw his tenant's troubled state, But still he wish'd to know the offenders' fate. Know you they suffer, Ellis?'-Ellis knew;— "Tis well! 'tis just! but have they all their due? Have they in mind and body, head and heart, Sustain'd the pangs of their accursed part?' They have!'Tis well!'-and wants enough to shake The firmest mind, the stoutest heart to break.' 'But have you seen them in such misery dwell?' 'In misery past description.”—“That is well.' Alas! Sir Owen, it perhaps is just,Yet I began my purpose to distrust; For they to justice have discharged a debt, That vengeance surely may her claim forget.' Man, can you pity ?-As a man I feel Miseries like theirs.'-But never would you heal?' Hear me, Sir Owen:-I had sought them long, Urged by the pain of ever present wrong, Yet had not seen; and twice the year came round Years hateful now-ere I my victims found: But there they linger'd on from week to week, There frown'd the ruin'd walls that once were white; There gleam'd the panes that once admitted light; There lay unsavoury scraps of wretched food; And there a measure, void of fuel, stood. But who shall part by part describe the state Of these, thus follow'd by relentless fate? All, too, in winter, when the icy air Breathed its bleak venom on the guilty pair. That man, that Cecil!-he was left, it seems, Unnamed, unnoticed: farewell to his dreams! Heirs made by law rejected him of course, And left him neither refuge nor resource:— Their father's? No: he was the harlot's son Who wrong'd them, whom their duty bade them shun; And they were duteous all, and he was all undone. Now the lost pair, whom better times had led To part disputing, shared their sorrow's bed: Their bed!-I shudder as I speak-and | At the bed's feet the man reclined his frame: Their chairs were perish'd to support the flame shared Scraps to their hunger by the hungry spared.' intent meant That warm'd his agued limbs; and, sad to see, That shook him fiercely as he gazed on me. I was confused in this unhappy view: true; My children's mother, my Alicia,―laid But could not leave her, though for death And tried the poison'd cup, and dropp'd it as I tried. She is a woman, and that famish'd thing Makes her to life, with all its evils, cling: Feed her, and let her breathe her last in peace, And all my sufferings with your promise cease!' Ghastly he smiled:-I knew not what I felt, But my heart melted-hearts of flint would melt, To see their anguish, penury, and shame, How base, how low, how groveling they became : To give them succour?'-What indeed II could not speak my purpose, but my eyes At first was vengeance; but I long pursued faint; And there that wife,-whom I had loved so well, And thought so happy, was condemn'd to pawn. vain Her mix'd and troubled feelings to explain; True, there was shame and consciousness of fall, But yet remembrance of my love withal, And knowledge of that power which she would now recal. But still the more that she to memory brought, The greater anguish in my mind was wrought; The more she tried to bring the past in view, This war within, these passions in their strife, My friend! Sir Owen answer'd, what became Of your just anger?-when you saw their shame, It was your triumph, and you should have shown Strength, if not joy-their sufferings were their own. Alas, for them! their own in very deed! And they of mercy had the greater need; Their own by purchase, for their frailty paid, And wanted heaven's own justice human aid? I saw them then-methinks I see them now! That arm,—that eye,—the cold, the sunken cheek, Spoke all, Sir Owen-fiercely miseries speak! And you relieved?—If hell's seducing crew Had seen that sight, they must have pitied too. Revenge was thine-thou hadst the power, the right; To give it up was heaven's own act to slight. Tell me not, Sir, of rights, and wrongs, or powers! I felt it written-Vengeance is not ours! Well, Ellis, well!—I find these female foes, What didst thou, man? I brought them to Strange was their parting, parting on the day ensue I know not, dare not think!-He said, and he withdrew. But, Ellis, tell me, didst thou thus desire Sure as I hope before my Judge to live, me,Whom never more on earth will I forsake or see. Sir Owen softly to his bed adjourn'd, Arrived at home, he scorn'd the change to hide, Nor would indulge a mean and selfish pride, Th' avenging vow; he now was frankness all: He saw his nephew, and with kindness spoke That would some little at a time recal Charles, I repent my purpose, and revoke, Take her—I'm taught, and would I could repay The generous teacher; hear me, and obey: Bring me the dear coquette, and let me vow On lips half perjured to be passive now: Take her, and let me thank the powers divine She was not stolen when her hand was mine, Or when her heart-Her smiles I must She my revenge, and cancel either debt. forget, Here ends our tale, for who will doubt the bliss Of ardent lovers in a case like this? BOOK XIII. DELAY HAS DANGER. THREE weeks had pass'd, and Richard rambles now Far as the dinners of the day allow; And stony fragments stay the winding stream, Of creatures in old worlds, of nameless worms, Whose generations lived and died ere man, A worm of other class, to crawl began. steed Think ere the contract-but, contracted, stand No more debating, take the ready hand: When hearts are willing, and when fears subside, Trust not to time, but let the knot be tied; For when, assured, the man has nought to All the gay visions, and delicious views, Once his mind's wealth! He travels at his No mortal business should the deed prevent; But the bless'd youth should legal sanction seek Ere yet th' assenting blush has fled the cheek. And-hear me, Richard,-man has reptilepride That often rises when his fears subside; There is a town call'd Silford, where his feed His mind by walking to and fro, to meet, He knew not what adventure, in the street: A stranger there, but yet a window-view Gave him a face that he conceived he knew; He saw a tall, fair, lovely lady, dress'd As one whom taste and wealth had jointly bless'd; He gazed, but soon a footman at the door Thundering, alarm'd her, who was seen no more. This was the lady whom her lover bound Man's weakness flies his more immediate pain, A little respite from his fears to gain; Not that for rashness, Richard, I would plead, For unadvised alliance: No, indeed: And here a short excursion let me make, Then, too, when ladies mean to yield at length, They match their reasons with the lover's strength, And, kindly cautious, will no force employ Invites approach, and will recede of course. And conscious weakness hides in bold parade; With lofty looks, and threat'nings stern and proud, Come, if you dare, is said in language loud, But if th' attack be made with care and skill, Come, says the yielding party, if you will; Then each the other's valiant acts approve, And twine their laurels in a wreath of love. We now retrace our tale, and forward go,— Harry, I will, while I your bargain make, Cecilia liked it not; she had, in truth, But thought it foolish thus themselves to cheat, And part for nothing but again to meet. acts That I omit,-they were acknowledged facts; An interest somewhere; I the place forget, And the good deed—no matter 'twas a debt: Thither must Henry, and in vain the maid Express'd dissent-the father was obey'd. But though the maid was by her fears assail'd, Her reason rose against them, and prevail'd ; Fear saw him hunting, leaping, falling—led, Maim'd and disfigured, groaning to his bed; Saw him in perils, duels,-dying,-dead. But Prudence answer'd: Is not every maid With equal cause for him she loves afraid? And from her guarded mind Cecilia threw The groundless terrors that will love pursue. She had no doubts, and her reliance strong Upon the honour that she would not wrong: Firm in herself, she doubted not the truthOf him, the chosen, the selected youth; Trust of herself a trust in him supplied, And she believed him faithful, though untried: On her he might depend, in him she would confide. If some fond girl express'd a tender pain Lest some fair rival should allure her swain, To such she answer'd, with a look severe, Can one you doubt be worthy of your fear? In all his walks, in hilly heath or wood, And he, now fond of that seclusion grown, There reads her letters, and there writes his own. Here none approach, said he, to interfere, It was the work of accident, no doubt- |