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0! it should stand recorded in all time, Sir Owen saw his tenant's troubled state, How they transgress'd, and he avenged the But still he wish'd to know the offenders' crime!
fate. In this bad world should all his business cease, Know you they suffer, Ellis?'-Ellis knew;He would not seek-he would not taste of 'Tis well! 'tis just! but have they all their peace;
due? But wrath should live till vengeance had Have they in mind and body, head and
her due, And with his wrath his life should perish too. Sustaind the pangs of their accursed part?' His girls--not his-he would not be so weak-They have!'_ 'Tis well!'_“and wants Child was a word he never more must speak!
enough to shake How did he know what villains had defiled The firmest mind, the stoutest heart to break.' His honest bed ?-He spurn'd the name of “But have you seen them in such misery child :
dwell?' keep them he must; but he would coarsely 'In misery past description.'—“That is well.'
Alas! Sir Owen, it perhaps is just,Their forms, and nip the growth of woman's | Yet I began my purpose to distrust;
For they to justice have discharged a debt, He would consume their flesh, abridge their That vengeance surely may her claim forget.'
Man, can you pity ? - As a man I feel And kill the mother-vices in their blood. Miseries like theirs.' -- But never would you
*Hear me, Sir Owen:-I had sought them All this Sir Owen heard, and grieved for all;l.
long, He with the husband mourn'd Alicia's fall; lurrean
foll? | Urged by the pain of ever present wrong, But urged the vengeance with a spirit with a spirit | Yet had not seen; and twice the year came
roundstrong, As one whose own rose high against the
Years hateful now-ere I my victims found:
But I did find them in the dungeon's gloom
wrong: He saw his tenant by this passion moved,
Of a small garret-a precarious home, Shared in his wrath, and his revenge
For that depended on the weekly pay,
And they were sorely frightend on the day;
Haunted by ills of which 'tis hard to speak, Years now unseen, he mourn'd this tenant's For they are many and vexatious all,
The very smallest --but they none were small. And wonder'd how he bore his widow'd state: | The roof, unceil'd in patches, gave the snow Still he would mention Ellis with the pride Entrance within, and there were heaps below; of one who felt himself to worth allied: I pass'd a narrow region dark and cold, Such were his notions-had been long, but | The strait of stairs to that infectious hold;
And, when I enter'd, Minery met my view He wish'd to see if vengeance lived, and how: In every shape she wears, in every hue, He donbted not a mind so strong must feel | And the black icy blast across the dungeon Most righteously, and righteous measures
There frown'd the ruin'd walls that once Then would he go, and haply he might find
were white; Some new excitement for a weary mind;
There gleam'd the panes that once admitted Might learn the miseries of a pair undone,
light; One scorn'd and hated, lost and perish'd one: There lay unsavonry scraps of wretched food; Yes, he would praise to virtuous anger give, And there a measure, void of fuel, stood. And so his vengeance should be nursed and But who shall part by part describe the state
Of these, thus follow'd by relentless fate?
Breathed its bleak venom on the guilty pair. Ellis was glad to see his landlord come, That man, that Cecil!-he was left, it seems, A transient joy broke in upon his gloom, Unnamed, unnoticed: farewell to his dreams! And pleased he led the knight to the superior Heirs made by law rejected him of course,
| And left him neither refuge nor resource: Where she was wont in happier days to sit, Their father's ? No: he was the harlot's son Who paid with smiles his condescending wit. Who wrong'd them, whom their duty bade There the sad husband, who had seldom been
them shun; Where prints acquired in happier days were And they were duteous all, and he was all seen,
undone. Now struck by these, and carried to the past, Now the lost pair, whom better times had led A painful look on every object cast: | 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 Scraps to their hunger by the hungry spared.'
flame That warm’d bis agned limbs; and, sad to see,
That shook him fiercely as he gazed on me. •Man! my good Ellis! can you sigh?'—I
can: In short, Sir Owen, I must feel as man; I was confused in this unhappy view : And could you know the miseries they | My wife! my friend! I could not think it endured,
true; The poor, uncertain pittance they procured;
My children's mother,-my Alicia, - laid When, laid aside the needle and the pen,
On such a bed ! so wretched,-60 afraid ! Their sickness won the neighbours of their
And her gay, young seducer, in the guise den,
Of all we dread, abjure, defy, despise, Poor as they are, and they are passing poor,
And all the fear and terror in his look, To lend some aid to those who needed
Still more my mind to its foundation shook. more:
At last he spoke:-Long since I would have Then, too, an ague with the winter came,
died, And in this state-that wife I cannot name
But could not leave her, though for death Brought forth a famish'd child of suffering
I sigh'd, and of shame.
And tried the poison'd eup, and dropp'd it This had you known, and traced them to
as I tried. this scene,
She is a woman, and that famish'd thing Where all was desolate, defiled, unclean,
Makes her to life, with all its evils, cling: A fireless room, and, where a fire had place, Feed her, and let her breathe her last in The blast loud howling down the empty
And all my sufferings with your promise You must have felt a part of the distress,
cease!' Forgot yonr wrongs, and made their suffering | Ghastly he smiled:-I knew not what I felt.
To see their anguish, penury, and shame, Sought yon them, Ellis, from the mean How base, how low, how groveling they intent
became : To give them succour?'_“What indeed II could not speak my purpose, but my eyes
And my expression bade the creature rise. At first was vengeance; but I long pursued The pair, and I at last their misery view'd In that vile garret, which I cannot paint- Yet, O! that woman's look! my words are The sight was loathsome, and the smell was
Her mix'd and troubled feelings to explain: And there that wife,-whom I had loved True, there was shame and consciousness of 80 well,
fall, And thought so happy, was condemn'd to But yet remembrance of my love withal,
And knowledge of that power which she The gay, the grateful wife, whom I was glad
would now recal. To see in dress beyond our station clad, But still the more that she to memory And to behold among our neighbours fine,
brought, More than perhaps became a wife of mine; | The greater anguish in my mind
was And now among her neighbours to explore,
wrought; And see her poorest of the very poor! - The more she tried to bring the past in view, I would describe it, but I bore a part, She greater horror on the present threw; Nor can explain the feelings of the heart; So that, for love or pity, terror thrill'd Yet memory since has aided me to trace My blood, and vile and odions thoughts The horrid features of that dismal place.
instill'd. There she reclined unmoved, her bosom bare This war within, these passions in their strifc. To her companion's unimpassion'd stare, If thus protracted, had exhausted life; And my wild wonder:-Seat of virtue! chaste But the strong view of these departed years As lovely once! O! how wert thon disgraced! Canged a full burst of salutary tears, Upon that breast, by sordid rags defiled, And as I wept at large, and thought alane. Lay the wan features of a famish'd child ;- I felt my reason re-ascend her throne.' That sin-born babe in utter misery laid, Too feebly wretched even to cry for aid; The ragged sheeting, o'er her person drawn, My friend! Sir Owen answer'd, what became Served for the dress that hunger placed in of your just anger? - when you saw their pawn.
It was your triumph, and you should have Strange was their parting, parting on the day
I offer'd help, and took the man away, Strength, if not joy-their sufferings were Sure not to meet again, and not to live
And taste of joy-He feebly cried: Forgive!
Tempters and tempted! what will thence Alas, for them! their own in very deed!
engue And they of mercy had the greater need; I know not, dare not think!-He said, and Their own by purchase, for their frailty
he withdrew. paid, And wanted heaven's own justice human aid? And seeing this, could I beseech my God But, Ellis, tell me, didet thou thus desire For deeper misery, and a heavier 'rod ?- To heap upon their heads those coals of fire? But could you help them?_Think, Sir | If fire to melt, that feeling is confest,
If fire to shame, I let that question rest; I saw them then-methinks I see them now! But if aught more the sacred words imply, She had not food, nor aught a mother needs,
I know it not-no commentator 1.Who for another life and dearer feede :
Then did you freely from your soul forI saw her speechless; on her wither'd breast
give?The wither'd child extended, but not prest, Sure as I hope before my Judge to live, Who sought, with moving lip and feeble cry,
Sure as I trust his mercy to receive, Vain instinct! for the fount without supply.
Sure as his word I honour and believe, Sure it was all a grievous, odious scene,
Sure as the Saviour died upon the tree Where all was dismal, melancholy, mean, For all who sin, -for that dear wretch and Foul with compellid neglect, unwholesome,
| Whom never more on earth will I forsake That arm,-that eye,-the cold, the sunken
or see. cheek, Spoke all, Sir Owen-fiercely miseries speak! And you relieved ?-If hell's seducing crew Had seen that sight, they must have pitied Sir Owen softly to his bed adjourn'd,
Sir Owen quickly to his home return'd; Revenge was thine—thou hadet the power, | And all the way he meditating dwelt
On what this man in his affliction felt; To give it up was heaven's own act to slight. How he, resenting first, forbore, forgave, Tell me not, Sir, of rights, and wrongs, or
His passion's lord, and not his anger's slave: powers!
And as he rode he seem'd to fear the deed I felt it written-Vengeance is not ours ! Should not be done, and urged unwonted
Arrived at home, he scorn'd the change to Well, Ellis, well !I find these female foes, y
hide, Or good or ill, will murder our repose;
"Nor would indulge a mean and selfish pride, And we, when Satan tempts them, take the cup, 1.
That would some little at a time recal The fruit of their foul sin, and drink it up:
| Th’avenging vow; he now was frankness all: But shall our pity all our claims remit,
He saw his nephew, and with kindness And we the sinners of their guilt acquit?
spoke-And what. Sir Owen. will our vengeance do? | Charles, I repent my purpose, and revoke, It follows us when we our foe pursue,
Take her-I'm taught, and would I could And, as we strike the blow, it smites the
repay smiters too.
The generous teacher; hear me, and obey: What didst thou, man? I bronght them to
Bring me the dear coquette, and let me vow
On lipa half perjured to be passive now:
a cot Behind your larches,-a sequester'd spot,
Take her, and let me thank the powers Where dwells the woman : I believe her she was not stolen when her hand was
divine mind Is now enlighten'd-I am sure resign'd:
mine, She gave her infant, though with aching
Or when her heart-Her smiles I must heart
forget, And faltering spirit, to be nursed apart. She my revenge, and cancel either debt. And that vile scoundrel?_Nay, his name
restore, And call him Cecil,- for he is no more:
| Here ends our tale, for who will doubt the When my vain help was offer'd, he was past
bliss All human aid, and shortly breathed his last; of ardent lovers in a case like this? Bat his heart open'd, and he lived to see And if Sir Owen’s was not half so strong, Guilt in hiniscll, and find a friend in me It inay, perchance, continue twice as long.
воок XIII. | Think ere the contrgct—but, contracted,
No more debating, take the ready hand : DELAY HAS DANGER.
When hearts are willing, and when fears
subside, TAREE weeks had pass'd, and Richard Trust not to time, but let the knot be tied ;
For when a lover has no more to do, Far as the dinners of the day allow; He thinks in leisure, what shall I pursue? He rode to Farley Grange and Finley Mere, And then who knows what objects come in That house so ancient, and that lake so clear:
view He rode to Ripley through that river gay, For when, assured, the man has nought to Where in the shallow stream the loaches
His wishes warm and active, then they sleep: And stony fragments stay the winding stream, Hopes die with fears; and then a man must And gilded pebbles at the bottom gleam,
lose Giving their yellow surface to the sun, All the gay visions, and delicious views, And making proud the waters as they run: Once his mind's wealth! He travels at his It is a lovely place, and at the side
ease, Rises a mountain-rock in rugged pride; Nor horrors now nor fairy-beauty sees : And in that rock are shapes of shells, and When the kind goddess gives the wish'd forms
assent, of creatures in old worlds, of nameless No mortal business should the deed prevent:
But the bless'd youth should legal sanction Whose generations lived and died ere man,
seek A worm of other class, to crawl began. Ere yet th' assenting blush has fled the
And-hear me, Richard,-man has reptileThere is a town call'd Silford, where his
That often rises when his fears subside; Our traveller rested-He the while would When, like a trader feeling rich, he now
Neglects his former smile, his humble bow, His mind by walking to and fro, to meet, And, conscious of his hoarded wealth. He knew not what adventure, in the street:
assumes A stranger there, but yet a window-view New airs, nor thinks how odious he becomes Gave him a face that he conceived he | There is a wandering, wavering train of knew;
thought He saw a tall, fair, lovely lady, dress'd That something seeks where nothing should As one whom taste and wealth had jointly
be sought, bless'd;
And will a self-delighted spirit move Je gazed, but soon a footman at the door To dare the danger of pernicious love. Thundering, alarm'd her, who was seen no
This was the lady whom her lover bound
| Bless'd in herself, and did not think of men: Frail was the hero of my tale, but still And with such comforts in her present state, Was rather drawn by accident than will; A wish to change it was to tempt her fate; Some without meaning into guilt advance, That she would not; but yet she would From want of guard, from vanity, from
With him she thought her hazard would be Man's weakness flies his more immediate
Nay, more, she would esteem, she would A little respite from his fears to gain;
regard express: And takes the part that he would gladly fly, But to be brief-if he could wait and see If he had strength and courage to deny. In a few years what his desires would be But now my tale, and let the moral say, I | Henry for years read months, then weeks. When hope can sleep, there's Danger in
nor found Delay.
| The lady thonght his judgment was unsound: Not that for rashness, Richard, I would For months read weeks,' she read it to his plead,
praise, For unadvised alliance : No, indeed : | And had some thoughts of changing it to days
And here a short excursion let me make, But thought it foolish thus themselves to A lover tried, I think, for lovers' sake;
cheat, And teach the meaning in a lady's mind And part for nothing but again to meet. When you can none in her expressions find : Now Henry's father was a man whose heart Words are design'd that meaning to convey, Took with his interest a decided part; But often Yca is hidden in a Nay!
He knew his Lordship, and was known for And what the charmer wills, some gentle
acts hints betray. That I omit,—they were acknowledged Then, too, when ladies mean to yield at
| An interest somewhere; I the place forget, They match their reasons with the lover's And the good deed- no matter-'twas a debt:
Thither must Henry, and in vain the maid And, kindly cautious, will no force employ Express'd dissent, the father was obey'd. But such as he can baffle or destroy. But though the maid was by her fears assail'd, As when heroic lovers beauty wood, Her reason rose against them, and prevail'd; And were by magic's mighty art withstood, Fear saw him hunting, leaping, falling-led, The kind historian, for the dame afraid, Maim'd and disfigured, groaning to his bed; Gare to the faithful knight the stronger aid. Saw him in perils, duels,-dying,-dead. A downright No! would make a man despair, But Prudence angwer'd: Is not every maid Or leave for kinder nymph the cruel fair; With equal cause for him she loves afraid? Bat No! because I'm very happy now, And from her guarded mind Cecilia threw Because I dread th' irrevocable vow, The groundless terrors that will love pursue. Because I fear papa will not approve, She had no doubts, and her reliance strong Because I love not-No, I cannot love; Upon the honour that she would not wrong: Because you men of Cupid make a jest, Firm in herself, she doubted not the truthBecause-in short, a single life is best. Of him, the chosen, the selected youth; A No! when back'd by reasons of such Trust of herself a trust in him supplied,
And she believed him faithful, though untried: lavites approach, and will recede of course. On her he might depend, in him she would Ladies, like towns besieged for honour's sake,
confide. Will some defence or its appearance make; If some fond girl express'd a tender pain On first approach there's much resistance Lest some fair rival should allure her swain,
To such she answer'd, with a look severe, And conscious weakness hides in bold parade; Can one you doubt be worthy of your fear? With lofty looks, and threat'nings stern and
proud, Come, if you dare, is said in language loud, My lord was kind,-a month had pass'd But if th' attack be made with care and skill,
away, Come, says the yielding party, if you will; And Henry stay'd,—he sometimes named a Then each the other's valiant acts approve, And twine their laurels in a wreath of love. But still my lord was kind, and Henry still
His father's words to him were words of We now retrace our tale, and forward go,
fateThus Henry rightly rend Cecilia's No! Wait, 'tis your duty; 'tis my pleasure, wait! His prudent father, who had duly weigh'd, And well approved the fortune of the maid, Not much registed, just enough to show In all his walks, in hilly heath or wood, He knew his power, and would his son Cecilia's form the pensive youth pursued;
should know. In the gray morning, in the silent noon, Harry, I will, while I your bargain make, In the soft twilight, by the sober moon, That you a journey to our patron take: In those forsaken rooms, in that immense I know her guardian; care will not become
saloon; A lad when courting; as you must be dumb, And he, now fond of that seclusion grown, You may be absent; I for you will speak, There reads her letters, and there writes And ask what you are not supposed to seek.'
his own. Then came the parting hour, and what arise Here none' approach, said he, to interfere, When lovers part! expressive looks and eyes, But I can think of my Cecilia here! Tender and tear-full, — many a fond adieu, But there did come — and how it came to pass And many a call the sorrow to renew; Who shall explain ?-a mild and blue-eyed Sighs such as lovers only can explain,
lass ;And words that they might undertake in vain. It was the work of accident, no doubt
The cause unknown-we say, as things fall
Cecilia liked it not; she had, in truth,
The damsel enter'd there, in wand'ring round