Book XII.

The Book opens:

Bleak was the morn: said Richard, with a sigh,}“I must depart.”—“That, Brother, I deny,”}Said George, “you may; but prithee tell me why.”}This point before had been discuss’d, but stillRichard submitted to his Brother’s will;But every day gave birth to doubt and fear;He heard not now, as he was wont to hear.George had discover’d such regret and pain,That Richard still consented to remain.Silence ensued—when, from the village bellCame sound for one who bade the world farewell.Enquiry made, and it was quickly foundSir Owen Dale had caused the doleful sound,Lord of a distant village, and his clayWas borne through Binning on its homeward way.“Knew you the Knight? Our Rector knew him well,And he’ll the story of his feelings tell,That show at least he had them.—Let us dine,I’ll introduce the subject with the wine.It is a compound story, if he paintsThe whole—and we must ply him, if he faints.The tale foreshorten’d, nothing is descried,But certain persons, that they lived and died;But let him fill the canvas, and he brings}In view the several passions and their springs,}And we have then more perfect view of things.”}The Vicar came; he dined; and they beganFreely to speak of the departed man;Then ask’d the Vicar to repeat the taleThat he could give them of Sir Owen Dale.(O.M.)

Bleak was the morn: said Richard, with a sigh,}“I must depart.”—“That, Brother, I deny,”}Said George, “you may; but prithee tell me why.”}This point before had been discuss’d, but stillRichard submitted to his Brother’s will;But every day gave birth to doubt and fear;He heard not now, as he was wont to hear.George had discover’d such regret and pain,That Richard still consented to remain.Silence ensued—when, from the village bellCame sound for one who bade the world farewell.Enquiry made, and it was quickly foundSir Owen Dale had caused the doleful sound,Lord of a distant village, and his clayWas borne through Binning on its homeward way.“Knew you the Knight? Our Rector knew him well,And he’ll the story of his feelings tell,That show at least he had them.—Let us dine,I’ll introduce the subject with the wine.It is a compound story, if he paintsThe whole—and we must ply him, if he faints.The tale foreshorten’d, nothing is descried,But certain persons, that they lived and died;But let him fill the canvas, and he brings}In view the several passions and their springs,}And we have then more perfect view of things.”}The Vicar came; he dined; and they beganFreely to speak of the departed man;Then ask’d the Vicar to repeat the taleThat he could give them of Sir Owen Dale.(O.M.)

Bleak was the morn: said Richard, with a sigh,}“I must depart.”—“That, Brother, I deny,”}Said George, “you may; but prithee tell me why.”}This point before had been discuss’d, but stillRichard submitted to his Brother’s will;But every day gave birth to doubt and fear;He heard not now, as he was wont to hear.George had discover’d such regret and pain,That Richard still consented to remain.Silence ensued—when, from the village bellCame sound for one who bade the world farewell.Enquiry made, and it was quickly foundSir Owen Dale had caused the doleful sound,Lord of a distant village, and his clayWas borne through Binning on its homeward way.“Knew you the Knight? Our Rector knew him well,And he’ll the story of his feelings tell,That show at least he had them.—Let us dine,I’ll introduce the subject with the wine.It is a compound story, if he paintsThe whole—and we must ply him, if he faints.The tale foreshorten’d, nothing is descried,But certain persons, that they lived and died;But let him fill the canvas, and he brings}In view the several passions and their springs,}And we have then more perfect view of things.”}The Vicar came; he dined; and they beganFreely to speak of the departed man;Then ask’d the Vicar to repeat the taleThat he could give them of Sir Owen Dale.(O.M.)

Bleak was the morn: said Richard, with a sigh,}

“I must depart.”—“That, Brother, I deny,”}

Said George, “you may; but prithee tell me why.”}

This point before had been discuss’d, but still

Richard submitted to his Brother’s will;

But every day gave birth to doubt and fear;

He heard not now, as he was wont to hear.

George had discover’d such regret and pain,

That Richard still consented to remain.

Silence ensued—when, from the village bell

Came sound for one who bade the world farewell.

Enquiry made, and it was quickly found

Sir Owen Dale had caused the doleful sound,

Lord of a distant village, and his clay

Was borne through Binning on its homeward way.

“Knew you the Knight? Our Rector knew him well,

And he’ll the story of his feelings tell,

That show at least he had them.—Let us dine,

I’ll introduce the subject with the wine.

It is a compound story, if he paints

The whole—and we must ply him, if he faints.

The tale foreshorten’d, nothing is descried,

But certain persons, that they lived and died;

But let him fill the canvas, and he brings}

In view the several passions and their springs,}

And we have then more perfect view of things.”}

The Vicar came; he dined; and they began

Freely to speak of the departed man;

Then ask’d the Vicar to repeat the tale

That he could give them of Sir Owen Dale.(O.M.)

l. 19. Creswell.

instead ofll. 243–4:

Scarcely his generous heart the ills sustain’d,And vows of vengeance for his ease remain’d:The shapeless purpose of a soul that feels,And half suppresses rage, and half reveals.(O.M.)

Scarcely his generous heart the ills sustain’d,And vows of vengeance for his ease remain’d:The shapeless purpose of a soul that feels,And half suppresses rage, and half reveals.(O.M.)

Scarcely his generous heart the ills sustain’d,And vows of vengeance for his ease remain’d:The shapeless purpose of a soul that feels,And half suppresses rage, and half reveals.(O.M.)

Scarcely his generous heart the ills sustain’d,

And vows of vengeance for his ease remain’d:

The shapeless purpose of a soul that feels,

And half suppresses rage, and half reveals.(O.M.)

Book XIII.

Variant ofll. 43–77:

“Is there not Danger when a lover gainsHis lady’s heart, and her consent obtains?(Suppose their union for a while delay’d,As when a flinching father is afraid.)Now, when the youth upon his labours pastDelighted looks, and is in peace at last,Is there not Danger in those days of peace,When troubles lessen, and when terrors cease,Lest, from the love of novelty, the sin,Of changeful man, some wandering should begin?Lest a successful spirit, in its pride,Should not contented with its peace abide?“Not Troilus more true or fond could be,Not Orpheus to his lost Eurydice,Than to his Harriet Henry—all was doneOn either part, and either heart was won.For there had pass’d the lady’s wish to charmWith due success; the lover felt th’ alarm;Then, more emotion in the man t’ excite,There pass’d in her the momentary slight;Then, after many a tender fear, there cameA declaration of the deathless flame.”(O.M.)

“Is there not Danger when a lover gainsHis lady’s heart, and her consent obtains?(Suppose their union for a while delay’d,As when a flinching father is afraid.)Now, when the youth upon his labours pastDelighted looks, and is in peace at last,Is there not Danger in those days of peace,When troubles lessen, and when terrors cease,Lest, from the love of novelty, the sin,Of changeful man, some wandering should begin?Lest a successful spirit, in its pride,Should not contented with its peace abide?“Not Troilus more true or fond could be,Not Orpheus to his lost Eurydice,Than to his Harriet Henry—all was doneOn either part, and either heart was won.For there had pass’d the lady’s wish to charmWith due success; the lover felt th’ alarm;Then, more emotion in the man t’ excite,There pass’d in her the momentary slight;Then, after many a tender fear, there cameA declaration of the deathless flame.”(O.M.)

“Is there not Danger when a lover gainsHis lady’s heart, and her consent obtains?(Suppose their union for a while delay’d,As when a flinching father is afraid.)Now, when the youth upon his labours pastDelighted looks, and is in peace at last,Is there not Danger in those days of peace,When troubles lessen, and when terrors cease,Lest, from the love of novelty, the sin,Of changeful man, some wandering should begin?Lest a successful spirit, in its pride,Should not contented with its peace abide?“Not Troilus more true or fond could be,Not Orpheus to his lost Eurydice,Than to his Harriet Henry—all was doneOn either part, and either heart was won.For there had pass’d the lady’s wish to charmWith due success; the lover felt th’ alarm;Then, more emotion in the man t’ excite,There pass’d in her the momentary slight;Then, after many a tender fear, there cameA declaration of the deathless flame.”(O.M.)

“Is there not Danger when a lover gains

His lady’s heart, and her consent obtains?

(Suppose their union for a while delay’d,

As when a flinching father is afraid.)

Now, when the youth upon his labours past

Delighted looks, and is in peace at last,

Is there not Danger in those days of peace,

When troubles lessen, and when terrors cease,

Lest, from the love of novelty, the sin,

Of changeful man, some wandering should begin?

Lest a successful spirit, in its pride,

Should not contented with its peace abide?

“Not Troilus more true or fond could be,

Not Orpheus to his lost Eurydice,

Than to his Harriet Henry—all was done

On either part, and either heart was won.

For there had pass’d the lady’s wish to charm

With due success; the lover felt th’ alarm;

Then, more emotion in the man t’ excite,

There pass’d in her the momentary slight;

Then, after many a tender fear, there came

A declaration of the deathless flame.”(O.M.)

instead ofll. 188–9:

“Here none approach to laugh, to sing, to prate;Here I can mourn, and muse, and meditate.”(O.M.)

“Here none approach to laugh, to sing, to prate;Here I can mourn, and muse, and meditate.”(O.M.)

“Here none approach to laugh, to sing, to prate;Here I can mourn, and muse, and meditate.”(O.M.)

“Here none approach to laugh, to sing, to prate;

Here I can mourn, and muse, and meditate.”(O.M.)

afterl. 648:

Her quill was one not pluck’d from Venus’ dove,And her smart language proved her wounded love.(O.M.)

Her quill was one not pluck’d from Venus’ dove,And her smart language proved her wounded love.(O.M.)

Her quill was one not pluck’d from Venus’ dove,And her smart language proved her wounded love.(O.M.)

Her quill was one not pluck’d from Venus’ dove,

And her smart language proved her wounded love.(O.M.)

instead ofll. 786–93:

And thus for ever shall it be, when viceShall the weak heart from rectitude entice,Or fear, with some poor passion, shall uniteTo make that timid turning from the right,Unerring Justice shall her pains decree,And man shall own that thus it ought to be.(O.M.)

And thus for ever shall it be, when viceShall the weak heart from rectitude entice,Or fear, with some poor passion, shall uniteTo make that timid turning from the right,Unerring Justice shall her pains decree,And man shall own that thus it ought to be.(O.M.)

And thus for ever shall it be, when viceShall the weak heart from rectitude entice,Or fear, with some poor passion, shall uniteTo make that timid turning from the right,Unerring Justice shall her pains decree,And man shall own that thus it ought to be.(O.M.)

And thus for ever shall it be, when vice

Shall the weak heart from rectitude entice,

Or fear, with some poor passion, shall unite

To make that timid turning from the right,

Unerring Justice shall her pains decree,

And man shall own that thus it ought to be.(O.M.)

Back to IndexNext