The time indeed had gone exceeding fast,Buthowit had gone—thatthey could not say,And nor could I, my reader, if you asked,They tell me that for no man Time will stay:Oh! not for womankind—for such as they?I'm half afraid old Chronos doth forgetAs he goes tearing on from day to dayThe right and just demands of etiquetteWhich is, as you'll agree, a matter of regret.
The time indeed had gone exceeding fast,Buthowit had gone—thatthey could not say,And nor could I, my reader, if you asked,They tell me that for no man Time will stay:Oh! not for womankind—for such as they?I'm half afraid old Chronos doth forgetAs he goes tearing on from day to dayThe right and just demands of etiquetteWhich is, as you'll agree, a matter of regret.
LXI.
They finished their refreshments seated nicelyUpon a spar (just what they all required),Which seemed as if putforthem—so preciselyWas it the very thing that they desired;They were (or should have been) intensely tired,But luckily they had not far to go,A lot of pleasant matters had transpired,And all had cracked their lively joke or so;But now the day was o'er, the sun was getting low.
They finished their refreshments seated nicelyUpon a spar (just what they all required),Which seemed as if putforthem—so preciselyWas it the very thing that they desired;They were (or should have been) intensely tired,But luckily they had not far to go,A lot of pleasant matters had transpired,And all had cracked their lively joke or so;But now the day was o'er, the sun was getting low.
LXII.
Behind the cliff they wished to see him fall,And therefore with that object did they wait,There was no need to hurry home at all,And they could walk it well by half-past eight,And surely that was not so very late.They each detached a portion of the wood,For Dora took much pains to demonstrate,It was most necessary that they should(For a memento be it clearly understood).
Behind the cliff they wished to see him fall,And therefore with that object did they wait,There was no need to hurry home at all,And they could walk it well by half-past eight,And surely that was not so very late.They each detached a portion of the wood,For Dora took much pains to demonstrate,It was most necessary that they should(For a memento be it clearly understood).
LXIII.
There can be nothing dearer that I know(When thus I speak of course I mean—to me)Than wand'ring slowly when the tide is low,Alone and silent by the gentle sea;Each winding cranny of the rock may beEnjoyment's wealth. There, is a world of thought,Of joys unbounded for a heart as free,A universe of life if only sought;Each breath, each dreaming ripple is with music fraught.
There can be nothing dearer that I know(When thus I speak of course I mean—to me)Than wand'ring slowly when the tide is low,Alone and silent by the gentle sea;Each winding cranny of the rock may beEnjoyment's wealth. There, is a world of thought,Of joys unbounded for a heart as free,A universe of life if only sought;Each breath, each dreaming ripple is with music fraught.
LXIV.
Give me the ocean: let me hear its roll,For ever let me wander by its side,There is a voice that murmurs to the soul,A strength which thunders in its mighty tide:There let me but my lonely footsteps guide,Or hasten to some far neglected glen,Wherein myself for ever I can hide,And rest a stranger to the ways of men,And find a refuge dear beyond all human ken.
Give me the ocean: let me hear its roll,For ever let me wander by its side,There is a voice that murmurs to the soul,A strength which thunders in its mighty tide:There let me but my lonely footsteps guide,Or hasten to some far neglected glen,Wherein myself for ever I can hide,And rest a stranger to the ways of men,And find a refuge dear beyond all human ken.
LXV.
There let me be, nor friend nor kinsman near,For earthly friends and kinsmen—what are they?There let me unbefriended drop a tearAnd spend in solitude life's little day,Where strange, strange voices all—all pass awayAnd mingle with the voices that have been,There in those stilly valleys let me stray,Where all is soundless, all is fair and green,And peace, that holy peace, surrounds each smiling scene.
There let me be, nor friend nor kinsman near,For earthly friends and kinsmen—what are they?There let me unbefriended drop a tearAnd spend in solitude life's little day,Where strange, strange voices all—all pass awayAnd mingle with the voices that have been,There in those stilly valleys let me stray,Where all is soundless, all is fair and green,And peace, that holy peace, surrounds each smiling scene.
LXVI.
Within me is a craving, and for what?A lingering longing, dark and ill-defined,A something wanting, but I know it not,A missing link it is not mine to find,A flaming fire that scorches up the mindAnd goads me ever onward—onward where?I pray—I gasp for light—for I am blind,The light that never, never will be there;What can that something be my spirit may not share?
Within me is a craving, and for what?A lingering longing, dark and ill-defined,A something wanting, but I know it not,A missing link it is not mine to find,A flaming fire that scorches up the mindAnd goads me ever onward—onward where?I pray—I gasp for light—for I am blind,The light that never, never will be there;What can that something be my spirit may not share?
LXVII.
Oh let me be, for mine is Nature's praise;I leave the world for those it doth invite,For those who are untaught in Nature's ways,Who seek their pleasures in the boast of might;Give me the wood, the ocean, and the night,I ask no more, these, these shall be my all,And wield my cornucopia of delight;The crested helmet and the kingly hallAre not for me, for them I neither care nor call.
Oh let me be, for mine is Nature's praise;I leave the world for those it doth invite,For those who are untaught in Nature's ways,Who seek their pleasures in the boast of might;Give me the wood, the ocean, and the night,I ask no more, these, these shall be my all,And wield my cornucopia of delight;The crested helmet and the kingly hallAre not for me, for them I neither care nor call.
LXVIII.
I ask not Wealth, nor wish one single hourWhere Splendour gilds the trophies of the brave,Of purse-proud pomp, of pageantry and powerWhose flaunting grandeur can but deck the grave;To me 'tis hollow—all is nothing saveThe pine-capped mountain and the heathery plain,The rolling forest and the leaping wave,Oh give me back their sweetnesses again,Those dear, those silent pleasures which can never wane!
I ask not Wealth, nor wish one single hourWhere Splendour gilds the trophies of the brave,Of purse-proud pomp, of pageantry and powerWhose flaunting grandeur can but deck the grave;To me 'tis hollow—all is nothing saveThe pine-capped mountain and the heathery plain,The rolling forest and the leaping wave,Oh give me back their sweetnesses again,Those dear, those silent pleasures which can never wane!
LXIX.
Far have I wandered when the even fillsThe bosom with sweet sadnesses and sighs,When life was like the mellow on far hillsBathed in the sunset of the summer skiesAnd tinged with purple—when the spirit criesAnd gasps for very language but in vain,When wavelets whisper and the heart replies,When the soul sobs and all is hushed againSave Tritons chanting to this pathless world of pain.
Far have I wandered when the even fillsThe bosom with sweet sadnesses and sighs,When life was like the mellow on far hillsBathed in the sunset of the summer skiesAnd tinged with purple—when the spirit criesAnd gasps for very language but in vain,When wavelets whisper and the heart replies,When the soul sobs and all is hushed againSave Tritons chanting to this pathless world of pain.
LXX.
Stay, stay thy footsteps, o'er the waters seeHow calm the weary elements, how still—For Nature too herself forgets to be,While holy thoughts and prayers the bosom fill,And dim the daylight quivers o'er the hill,The creatures of the air to home and restHave winged their lonely journey at their will,And no alarms alarm the human breastAnd all, yea all, with heavenly quietude is blest.
Stay, stay thy footsteps, o'er the waters seeHow calm the weary elements, how still—For Nature too herself forgets to be,While holy thoughts and prayers the bosom fill,And dim the daylight quivers o'er the hill,The creatures of the air to home and restHave winged their lonely journey at their will,And no alarms alarm the human breastAnd all, yea all, with heavenly quietude is blest.
LXXI.
They'd seen the sun descend, the blending hues,Rich, in succession, come, then fade away,Regretting that such splendour they should loseWith the departure of the solar ray;Do we not note this every dawning day—That beauty is short-lived and soon must pass?More beautiful, more wasted by decay,We see it and we cry “Alas! Alas!Our days are as a tale that is told—we are but grass!”
They'd seen the sun descend, the blending hues,Rich, in succession, come, then fade away,Regretting that such splendour they should loseWith the departure of the solar ray;Do we not note this every dawning day—That beauty is short-lived and soon must pass?More beautiful, more wasted by decay,We see it and we cry “Alas! Alas!Our days are as a tale that is told—we are but grass!”
LXXII.
I will apply a philosophic ruleWhich, like most rules, admits of some exception,But I was no philosopher at school,I'll tell you that much so there's no deception,In fact, a perfect dunce, you've no conception—But that you'll say is foreign to mytail,I thank you for your generous correction,I copied all my masters to a nail,Yet no one ever asked me if I was for sale.
I will apply a philosophic ruleWhich, like most rules, admits of some exception,But I was no philosopher at school,I'll tell you that much so there's no deception,In fact, a perfect dunce, you've no conception—But that you'll say is foreign to mytail,I thank you for your generous correction,I copied all my masters to a nail,Yet no one ever asked me if I was for sale.
LXXIII.
Who was it said Variety was BeautyOr Beauty was Variety?—no matter,To recollect his name is not my duty,It may have been Theocritus's hatter,For aught I know, my brains are in a batter,I'm older than I used to be by far,Yet, joking all aside, myself I flatterMy faculties are lively as they are,And yet—let's see—who was that Philosophic Star?
Who was it said Variety was BeautyOr Beauty was Variety?—no matter,To recollect his name is not my duty,It may have been Theocritus's hatter,For aught I know, my brains are in a batter,I'm older than I used to be by far,Yet, joking all aside, myself I flatterMy faculties are lively as they are,And yet—let's see—who was that Philosophic Star?
LXXIV.
Ican'tthink—never mind. But I maintainThat BeautyisVariety (and IEmphatically say the same again)Just now it doesn't matter how or why:If anybody wishes to denyThat this is true—then—let him come and prove it,If anyone has doubt of it, I'll try—I'll do my very utmost to remove it.If 'twere a lie most certainly I should reprove it.
Ican'tthink—never mind. But I maintainThat BeautyisVariety (and IEmphatically say the same again)Just now it doesn't matter how or why:If anybody wishes to denyThat this is true—then—let him come and prove it,If anyone has doubt of it, I'll try—I'll do my very utmost to remove it.If 'twere a lie most certainly I should reprove it.
LXXV.
It is when Autumn sweeps the frosty plainAnd tips the woods with flaming hues, that IDelight to pause and gaze and gaze againWhere varied tints the landscape beautify;It is the smirking maiden's nut-brown eye,Fair skin all traversed by the tender blue,Her cherry cheeks and lips that make me sigh,Besides her snowy teeth—now don't they you?That's right, I knew that you'd agree,of coursethey do.
It is when Autumn sweeps the frosty plainAnd tips the woods with flaming hues, that IDelight to pause and gaze and gaze againWhere varied tints the landscape beautify;It is the smirking maiden's nut-brown eye,Fair skin all traversed by the tender blue,Her cherry cheeks and lips that make me sigh,Besides her snowy teeth—now don't they you?That's right, I knew that you'd agree,of coursethey do.
LXXVI.
Ah, what is that which makes the sunset dear?It is each varying tinge that stains the air,While ever-changing colours still appear,And fairy-flecks float forward calm and fair.But still our weary ladies lingered there,For Flo their fav'rite trio did propose,And Dora, as was usual, sang the air;The eve was still, the day began to closeAs on the gentle breeze the following words arose:
Ah, what is that which makes the sunset dear?It is each varying tinge that stains the air,While ever-changing colours still appear,And fairy-flecks float forward calm and fair.But still our weary ladies lingered there,For Flo their fav'rite trio did propose,And Dora, as was usual, sang the air;The eve was still, the day began to closeAs on the gentle breeze the following words arose:
THE CHORUS OF THE NEREIDES.We are ever ever merry as we frolic in the ocean,As we dive beneath the waters to its gem-bestudded floor;And we dance within its grottoes with an ever-whirling motion,And we roll the little wavelets one by one upon the shore.From beneath the leaves in caverns adamantine we are peeping,Now along the blazing pearl and ruby corridors we glide,And amongst the tall fantastic arches slily are we creeping,There within their dark, mysterious recesses do we hide.We recline within the bowers of the ever-rolling billow,We repose upon its bosom with a calm and cool delight,While ecstacies enrapture on its tranquillizing pillow,And we raise a myriad voices to the canopy of Night.
THE CHORUS OF THE NEREIDES.We are ever ever merry as we frolic in the ocean,As we dive beneath the waters to its gem-bestudded floor;And we dance within its grottoes with an ever-whirling motion,And we roll the little wavelets one by one upon the shore.From beneath the leaves in caverns adamantine we are peeping,Now along the blazing pearl and ruby corridors we glide,And amongst the tall fantastic arches slily are we creeping,There within their dark, mysterious recesses do we hide.We recline within the bowers of the ever-rolling billow,We repose upon its bosom with a calm and cool delight,While ecstacies enrapture on its tranquillizing pillow,And we raise a myriad voices to the canopy of Night.
THE CHORUS OF THE NEREIDES.
We are ever ever merry as we frolic in the ocean,As we dive beneath the waters to its gem-bestudded floor;And we dance within its grottoes with an ever-whirling motion,And we roll the little wavelets one by one upon the shore.
From beneath the leaves in caverns adamantine we are peeping,Now along the blazing pearl and ruby corridors we glide,And amongst the tall fantastic arches slily are we creeping,There within their dark, mysterious recesses do we hide.
We recline within the bowers of the ever-rolling billow,We repose upon its bosom with a calm and cool delight,While ecstacies enrapture on its tranquillizing pillow,And we raise a myriad voices to the canopy of Night.
LXXVII.
Then up they started; 'twas already dim,Still 'twas but half an hour's walk at the most,Altho' they were not quite in walking trim,Fatigued by all their rambles on the coast;In clambering o'er the rocks no time they lost,Altho' their small bottines got somewhat wet,And their incautiousness some duckings cost,But over soaking hose they didn't fret,For, jumping slippery rocks, what could they hope to get?
Then up they started; 'twas already dim,Still 'twas but half an hour's walk at the most,Altho' they were not quite in walking trim,Fatigued by all their rambles on the coast;In clambering o'er the rocks no time they lost,Altho' their small bottines got somewhat wet,And their incautiousness some duckings cost,But over soaking hose they didn't fret,For, jumping slippery rocks, what could they hope to get?
LXXVIII.
But, sad to say, as Dora took a leapAcross a little channel full of water,A channel which was more than ankle-deep,She slipped and fell ere either could have caught her;Her sisters shrieked and, bending, they besought her,To say if any hurt she had sustained,And Flora, much alarmed, at once bethought her“What if she has?”—for Dora there remained,And most distressingly she moaned but nought explained.
But, sad to say, as Dora took a leapAcross a little channel full of water,A channel which was more than ankle-deep,She slipped and fell ere either could have caught her;Her sisters shrieked and, bending, they besought her,To say if any hurt she had sustained,And Flora, much alarmed, at once bethought her“What if she has?”—for Dora there remained,And most distressingly she moaned but nought explained.
LXXIX.
But as she spoke not, what could they surmise,While with red blood bedabbled was her cheek?She fell back helpless when she tried to rise,And seemed unable, tho' she strove, to speak:Upon her forehead gaped a crimson streak,And stretched upon th' unyielding rock she lay,To soothe her pain both sisterlike did seek,They washed the bloody finger-prints away;Alas that such as this should end so bright a day!
But as she spoke not, what could they surmise,While with red blood bedabbled was her cheek?She fell back helpless when she tried to rise,And seemed unable, tho' she strove, to speak:Upon her forehead gaped a crimson streak,And stretched upon th' unyielding rock she lay,To soothe her pain both sisterlike did seek,They washed the bloody finger-prints away;Alas that such as this should end so bright a day!
LXXX.
What could they do? where could they fly for aidWith night fast closing over all around?Where could they go, bewildered and afraid,With not the comfort of a single sound?They looked aghast with lips all horror-bound,With none to help and not a cottage nearWhere they could take her, prostrate on the ground,Where they might bind her brow who was so dear;And stirred they had not with embarrassment and fear.
What could they do? where could they fly for aidWith night fast closing over all around?Where could they go, bewildered and afraid,With not the comfort of a single sound?They looked aghast with lips all horror-bound,With none to help and not a cottage nearWhere they could take her, prostrate on the ground,Where they might bind her brow who was so dear;And stirred they had not with embarrassment and fear.
LXXXI.
Now clearly, as was apprehensibleFrom the sad nature of the wound received,To all around she lay insensible,And Rose and Flora were most sorely grieved;Their inward terror could not be conceived,They tried to raise her but they tried in vain,And many sighs of disappointment heavedAs down she sank upon the rock again;Each asked what should be done, they must not there remain.
Now clearly, as was apprehensibleFrom the sad nature of the wound received,To all around she lay insensible,And Rose and Flora were most sorely grieved;Their inward terror could not be conceived,They tried to raise her but they tried in vain,And many sighs of disappointment heavedAs down she sank upon the rock again;Each asked what should be done, they must not there remain.
LXXXII.
That was a question which they could not solve,She was too heavy for their strength to bear,But Rose to fly for succour did resolve,Rushed up the cliff and left her sisters there;Within her heart there lurked a trembling prayerFor her dear Dora's safety as she spedAlong the soundless road, she knew not where,While darkness quickly gathered overhead,On, on she ran, half overcome, and pale with dread.
That was a question which they could not solve,She was too heavy for their strength to bear,But Rose to fly for succour did resolve,Rushed up the cliff and left her sisters there;Within her heart there lurked a trembling prayerFor her dear Dora's safety as she spedAlong the soundless road, she knew not where,While darkness quickly gathered overhead,On, on she ran, half overcome, and pale with dread.
LXXXIII.
The first she met—to him she did appeal,He was a neighbouring cottager who boreA right good heart which others' woes could feel,To whom, too, she was not unknown before;At the sad news he hastened to his door,Brought forth a lighted lantern and a phial,And both strode quickly forward to the shore,He tried to soothe poor Rose's grief the while,Whose agitation told how terrible the trial.
The first she met—to him she did appeal,He was a neighbouring cottager who boreA right good heart which others' woes could feel,To whom, too, she was not unknown before;At the sad news he hastened to his door,Brought forth a lighted lantern and a phial,And both strode quickly forward to the shore,He tried to soothe poor Rose's grief the while,Whose agitation told how terrible the trial.
LXXXIV.
They reached the cliff and cautious did descend,They indistinctly saw a group of three,In Rose's breast alarm and joy did blendWhile wondering who the welcome third might be;Impatiently she hurried on to see,'Twas Rowland kneeling at her sister's sideTo whom he ministered relief for heThe waving kerchief from the cliff had spied,Had heard the call for help and to the beach had hied.
They reached the cliff and cautious did descend,They indistinctly saw a group of three,In Rose's breast alarm and joy did blendWhile wondering who the welcome third might be;Impatiently she hurried on to see,'Twas Rowland kneeling at her sister's sideTo whom he ministered relief for heThe waving kerchief from the cliff had spied,Had heard the call for help and to the beach had hied.
LXXXV.
His brother Gilbert by some happy chanceHad accompanied his brother on his way,Both saw what was the matter at a glanceAs Dora on the ground unconscious lay;Flora with tears besought them both to stayBut they'd arranged that Gilbert home should fly(They lived three-quarters of a mile away)And bring restoratives immediately,And chaise, of course, which was a great necessity.
His brother Gilbert by some happy chanceHad accompanied his brother on his way,Both saw what was the matter at a glanceAs Dora on the ground unconscious lay;Flora with tears besought them both to stayBut they'd arranged that Gilbert home should fly(They lived three-quarters of a mile away)And bring restoratives immediately,And chaise, of course, which was a great necessity.
LXXXVI.
Now Dora upright sat and looked around,Much better than she was a time ago,With a damp handkerchief her head was bound,And now and then she took a draught or soThe cottager supplied, as you all know,Till on the road above the chaise arrived;Gilbert his brother called from down below,Gave him the flask and asked if she'd revivedAnd how her safe removal was to be contrived.
Now Dora upright sat and looked around,Much better than she was a time ago,With a damp handkerchief her head was bound,And now and then she took a draught or soThe cottager supplied, as you all know,Till on the road above the chaise arrived;Gilbert his brother called from down below,Gave him the flask and asked if she'd revivedAnd how her safe removal was to be contrived.
LXXXVII.
There Gilbert waited while his brother wentTo offer his support to Dora whoSeemed nothing else but sweet bewilderment,And, at this juncture, so did Rowland too.Since Gilbert brought one, they had lanterns twoWhich much assisted them their way to see,As well as what they were about to doIn this unfortunate emergency;For 'twas a matter of the utmost urgency.
There Gilbert waited while his brother wentTo offer his support to Dora whoSeemed nothing else but sweet bewilderment,And, at this juncture, so did Rowland too.Since Gilbert brought one, they had lanterns twoWhich much assisted them their way to see,As well as what they were about to doIn this unfortunate emergency;For 'twas a matter of the utmost urgency.
LXXXVIII.
Now Rowland on the left supported Dora,The cottager was stationed on the right,One of the lights did they entrust to Flora,And one to Rose who was exhausted quite;Then on they passed beneath the sultry night,Safe o'er the rocks, upon the hardened sand—Tho' Dora was in most unhappy plight—With all the haste they could just then command,Befitted to the circumstance you understand.
Now Rowland on the left supported Dora,The cottager was stationed on the right,One of the lights did they entrust to Flora,And one to Rose who was exhausted quite;Then on they passed beneath the sultry night,Safe o'er the rocks, upon the hardened sand—Tho' Dora was in most unhappy plight—With all the haste they could just then command,Befitted to the circumstance you understand.
LXXXIX.
The steps were steep and narrow, and a rail,For wanderers' protection was placed there,Yet it was at the best so very frailThat it was necessary to beware;With narrow limits they did not despair,But managed somehow to go three abreastAnd at the summit safely lodge their care;To render her relief all did their best,They knew their parents would be very much distressed.
The steps were steep and narrow, and a rail,For wanderers' protection was placed there,Yet it was at the best so very frailThat it was necessary to beware;With narrow limits they did not despair,But managed somehow to go three abreastAnd at the summit safely lodge their care;To render her relief all did their best,They knew their parents would be very much distressed.
XC.
It chanced auspiciously that ladies' dressWas then not as we know it to have been,That concentration of all ugliness—That awful bustle and the crinoline—It would have been unfortunate, I mean,For their ascent, and with me you'll agree,It would have proved a hopeless case, I ween,And ended in a dire catastrophe,Which simply would have been embarrassing you see.
It chanced auspiciously that ladies' dressWas then not as we know it to have been,That concentration of all ugliness—That awful bustle and the crinoline—It would have been unfortunate, I mean,For their ascent, and with me you'll agree,It would have proved a hopeless case, I ween,And ended in a dire catastrophe,Which simply would have been embarrassing you see.
XCI.
The cottager sought nothing for his painsAnd proffered trifles thankfully declined;Ah! happy they who think not of their gains,Who for the kindness only would be kind;But there are very few of such a mind,That is as far as my experience goes,For love of self more often lurks behindA worthy action, and one seldom knowsThe true and real source from which a kindness flows.
The cottager sought nothing for his painsAnd proffered trifles thankfully declined;Ah! happy they who think not of their gains,Who for the kindness only would be kind;But there are very few of such a mind,That is as far as my experience goes,For love of self more often lurks behindA worthy action, and one seldom knowsThe true and real source from which a kindness flows.
XCII.
Now with his charges three was Rowland seated,Then all and everyone exchanged “good night,”And when that ceremony was completedThe cottager bent homeward with his lightAnd so did Gilbert. 'Twas a blessing quiteThat matters were all settled as they wereIn their most awkward and distressing plight,—As Dora thought especially for herIt was indeed unfortunate it should occur.
Now with his charges three was Rowland seated,Then all and everyone exchanged “good night,”And when that ceremony was completedThe cottager bent homeward with his lightAnd so did Gilbert. 'Twas a blessing quiteThat matters were all settled as they wereIn their most awkward and distressing plight,—As Dora thought especially for herIt was indeed unfortunate it should occur.
XCIII.
When they arrived at Elleston Farm they foundSuch dire dismay as ne'er before was seen,Papa dispatching to the places roundSome messengers to know where they had been,It really was a most excited scene,With Julia, Ma, and Hannah at the gateTo see if information they could gleanIn much alarm since it was now so late,For Dora told them that they should return by eight.
When they arrived at Elleston Farm they foundSuch dire dismay as ne'er before was seen,Papa dispatching to the places roundSome messengers to know where they had been,It really was a most excited scene,With Julia, Ma, and Hannah at the gateTo see if information they could gleanIn much alarm since it was now so late,For Dora told them that they should return by eight.
XCIV.
Ma gave a dismal shriek and swooned away,And Julia (bless her!) tried to do so too,Most naturally so, for truth to sayIt was a dreary spectacle to view;Soon to the house they hurriedly withdrew,All those who kept their footing and were able;With Ma and Julia there was much adoSince they between them made a little Babel,While Hannah screamed and staggered back upon the table.
Ma gave a dismal shriek and swooned away,And Julia (bless her!) tried to do so too,Most naturally so, for truth to sayIt was a dreary spectacle to view;Soon to the house they hurriedly withdrew,All those who kept their footing and were able;With Ma and Julia there was much adoSince they between them made a little Babel,While Hannah screamed and staggered back upon the table.
XCV.
To Dora Rowland was, of course, attentive,Yes, very so; he also did his bestFor th' others, using every preventiveAgainst a second swoon one could suggest;His efforts I am glad to say were blest,Tho' Dora was quite helpless from the fall,But Hannah went on just like one possessed,While Julia did the lackadaisicalAnd wagged her head most drearily against the wall.
To Dora Rowland was, of course, attentive,Yes, very so; he also did his bestFor th' others, using every preventiveAgainst a second swoon one could suggest;His efforts I am glad to say were blest,Tho' Dora was quite helpless from the fall,But Hannah went on just like one possessed,While Julia did the lackadaisicalAnd wagged her head most drearily against the wall.
XCVI.
Ere long there was an end to the confusion,And everyone came back to common sense,Then all the household joined in the conclusionIt was a fearful blow, at all eventsPoor Dora's sufferings were most intense,And prudently she was despatched to bed,Permitted to remain on no pretence,And there the household bandaged up her head,For all lent their assistance as I should have said.
Ere long there was an end to the confusion,And everyone came back to common sense,Then all the household joined in the conclusionIt was a fearful blow, at all eventsPoor Dora's sufferings were most intense,And prudently she was despatched to bed,Permitted to remain on no pretence,And there the household bandaged up her head,For all lent their assistance as I should have said.
XCVII.
Respecting how they spent their length of timeThere was a lot to say as you'd suppose,(Which I will not repeat to you in rhyme)Concerning their enjoyments and their woes,And all such trivialities as those,Or thanks to him to whom such thanks were due,And query after query then arose,And pleasant incidents by no means few,As under the like circumstances always do.
Respecting how they spent their length of timeThere was a lot to say as you'd suppose,(Which I will not repeat to you in rhyme)Concerning their enjoyments and their woes,And all such trivialities as those,Or thanks to him to whom such thanks were due,And query after query then arose,And pleasant incidents by no means few,As under the like circumstances always do.
XCVIII.
Supper despatched, our Rowland started backLoaded with thanks and all that words could speak,The stars were overcast, the night was black,The wind arose as from some sudden freak;At intervals was seen a livid streak,And distant rumblings fell upon the ear;'Twas true a storm had threatened all the weekAnd lurked about the sultry atmosphere,Then was the time they were to have it, it was clear.
Supper despatched, our Rowland started backLoaded with thanks and all that words could speak,The stars were overcast, the night was black,The wind arose as from some sudden freak;At intervals was seen a livid streak,And distant rumblings fell upon the ear;'Twas true a storm had threatened all the weekAnd lurked about the sultry atmosphere,Then was the time they were to have it, it was clear.
XCIX.
Yet these were tokens Rowland did not heed,Such trifles then he little cared about,As he upon his journey did proceedHe was disturbed within more than withoutAnd dead to all around I've not a doubt,Absorbed in thoughts that words can ne'er define,Yet you can guess, my reader, what about,Most likely such as those have once been thine,I really fail to count how often they've been mine.
Yet these were tokens Rowland did not heed,Such trifles then he little cared about,As he upon his journey did proceedHe was disturbed within more than withoutAnd dead to all around I've not a doubt,Absorbed in thoughts that words can ne'er define,Yet you can guess, my reader, what about,Most likely such as those have once been thine,I really fail to count how often they've been mine.
C.
Within him was a feeling as of pain,—That melancholy music in whose tone,Though full of sadness, something sweet doth reign,And Rowland for the first time feltalone;How often hath this feeling been our ownWhen all is—what? compared to something dear,When former pleasures all, yea, all have flown,And life is centred in another sphere,And all the world is nothing if one be not near.
Within him was a feeling as of pain,—That melancholy music in whose tone,Though full of sadness, something sweet doth reign,And Rowland for the first time feltalone;How often hath this feeling been our ownWhen all is—what? compared to something dear,When former pleasures all, yea, all have flown,And life is centred in another sphere,And all the world is nothing if one be not near.
CI.
There was a something in the heaven aboveThat corresponded with his state of mind;We all know what it is to be in love,When all Earth's sweetest pleasures seem combined,When Life and Love both, both are intertwined,And the young blood is as the desert's thirst,A scorching wilderness, a torrid wind,A torrent with its flood-gates open burst;When Youth's most cherished hopes within the breast are nursed.
There was a something in the heaven aboveThat corresponded with his state of mind;We all know what it is to be in love,When all Earth's sweetest pleasures seem combined,When Life and Love both, both are intertwined,And the young blood is as the desert's thirst,A scorching wilderness, a torrid wind,A torrent with its flood-gates open burst;When Youth's most cherished hopes within the breast are nursed.
CII.
O tell me not that Youth, all youth is folly,Give me the kiss that youth doth first impress,O let me feel love's ling'ring melancholy,And smile on lips all youthful loveliness!Give me the bosom I can fondly pressWhile Youth's hot blood is burning in the veins,O what but this is earthly happiness?This world no sweeter thing than this contains;When days of youth are o'er, life's foremost pleasure wanes.
O tell me not that Youth, all youth is folly,Give me the kiss that youth doth first impress,O let me feel love's ling'ring melancholy,And smile on lips all youthful loveliness!Give me the bosom I can fondly pressWhile Youth's hot blood is burning in the veins,O what but this is earthly happiness?This world no sweeter thing than this contains;When days of youth are o'er, life's foremost pleasure wanes.
CIII.
Yes, Youth was made for such; it is enoughTo know in some fond heart our words abide;Oh life's not life but death without a love,All ceaseless darkness where she is denied!We know not our existence till we hideOur soul within another's there to beIts very being: like a river wideLove rolls its endless volumes to the sea,Losing itself within its own immensity.
Yes, Youth was made for such; it is enoughTo know in some fond heart our words abide;Oh life's not life but death without a love,All ceaseless darkness where she is denied!We know not our existence till we hideOur soul within another's there to beIts very being: like a river wideLove rolls its endless volumes to the sea,Losing itself within its own immensity.
CIV.
There is a sort of torture which attendsThat most delightful of the heart's delights,A sort of cruelty which somehow blendsWith passion in its most distracted flights;And absence from a bosom that requitesAn all-absorbing love is as a flameFed ten-fold, yet insatiate; it excitesThose maddened cravings which the breast inflame,Those fiery, longing gasps within the fevered frame.
There is a sort of torture which attendsThat most delightful of the heart's delights,A sort of cruelty which somehow blendsWith passion in its most distracted flights;And absence from a bosom that requitesAn all-absorbing love is as a flameFed ten-fold, yet insatiate; it excitesThose maddened cravings which the breast inflame,Those fiery, longing gasps within the fevered frame.
CV.
However, I'm too fond of ponderingWhen it's so necessary to proceed,And on to worthless topics wanderingTo which my friends will pay but little heed,All those I mean who take my book and readThose matters that they studied long ago,Who of such information have no needAnd want to hear of something they don't know;I know what's due to them and they shall have it so.
However, I'm too fond of ponderingWhen it's so necessary to proceed,And on to worthless topics wanderingTo which my friends will pay but little heed,All those I mean who take my book and readThose matters that they studied long ago,Who of such information have no needAnd want to hear of something they don't know;I know what's due to them and they shall have it so.
CVI.
'Twas Dora, as by now you will have guessed,Who was the burden of poor Rowland's thought,He was not merely by her face impressedBut loved her to distraction as he ought,It is you know the popular reportThat the best love is love at the first sight;If such is true or not it matters nought,I'd rather not discuss the point to-night,It won't affect our story whether wrong or right.
'Twas Dora, as by now you will have guessed,Who was the burden of poor Rowland's thought,He was not merely by her face impressedBut loved her to distraction as he ought,It is you know the popular reportThat the best love is love at the first sight;If such is true or not it matters nought,I'd rather not discuss the point to-night,It won't affect our story whether wrong or right.
CVII.
I think and I've good reason to supposeThis was a first-sight love, but who can sayFor certain if it was so? Goodness knowsIf he conceived it in amongst the hay:If I hear rightly ever since that dayHe had been somewhat quieter than beforeAnd had been known to take himself awayTo wander long alone upon the shore:Such oddities betoken love you may be sure.
I think and I've good reason to supposeThis was a first-sight love, but who can sayFor certain if it was so? Goodness knowsIf he conceived it in amongst the hay:If I hear rightly ever since that dayHe had been somewhat quieter than beforeAnd had been known to take himself awayTo wander long alone upon the shore:Such oddities betoken love you may be sure.
CVIII.
Ah, who may tell what crowding thoughts aroseWhere boiled the tumult of Love's surging sea,That strength this world itself could not enclose,Nor Space with infinite immensity!But there no matter why, love is to beWhile men and women both are what they are,While eyes can wander unrestrainedly,And light on dimpled cheeks unknown to Ma,Or eyes that glisten like a polished scimitar.
Ah, who may tell what crowding thoughts aroseWhere boiled the tumult of Love's surging sea,That strength this world itself could not enclose,Nor Space with infinite immensity!But there no matter why, love is to beWhile men and women both are what they are,While eyes can wander unrestrainedly,And light on dimpled cheeks unknown to Ma,Or eyes that glisten like a polished scimitar.
CIX.
Some pierce as deeply, I can tell you, too,And do the dickens in the way of slaughter,And slash the heart to mincemeat through and through,And make ten thousand lives some few years shorter;Those eyes that make beholding lips quite water,Full many a Don Giovani die o' grief,Which yield the love-sick populace no quarterAnd—(isn't it cruel?) give them no relief,And work no end of miracles in my belief!
Some pierce as deeply, I can tell you, too,And do the dickens in the way of slaughter,And slash the heart to mincemeat through and through,And make ten thousand lives some few years shorter;Those eyes that make beholding lips quite water,Full many a Don Giovani die o' grief,Which yield the love-sick populace no quarterAnd—(isn't it cruel?) give them no relief,And work no end of miracles in my belief!
CX.
Which rudely tilt Love's overflowing cup,And work a trifle in their little way;Just tip the solar-system downside up,What is there that they can't do, who shall say?While for one glance a thousand pine away,Which certainly is most disastrous whenOur span is not too long as you will say,And what of their short three score years and ten?But this may not apply to woman-jilted men.
Which rudely tilt Love's overflowing cup,And work a trifle in their little way;Just tip the solar-system downside up,What is there that they can't do, who shall say?While for one glance a thousand pine away,Which certainly is most disastrous whenOur span is not too long as you will say,And what of their short three score years and ten?But this may not apply to woman-jilted men.
CXI.
A friend of mine observed some time agoThat women were men's guardian-angels—stay,I scarcely think it can be always soTho' very often certainly it may;At any rate you know I mean to sayThey very seldom put men at their ease,Once wedded in a week can turn 'em grey,So deuced disagreeable if they please,And I myself have known some two or three of these.
A friend of mine observed some time agoThat women were men's guardian-angels—stay,I scarcely think it can be always soTho' very often certainly it may;At any rate you know I mean to sayThey very seldom put men at their ease,Once wedded in a week can turn 'em grey,So deuced disagreeable if they please,And I myself have known some two or three of these.
CXII.
I do not mean that I've experienced this—(The subject 'tis a pity I began)I never knew that fancied state of bliss,I'm not, my friends, in short, a married man,So cannot judge as well as others canWho are more fortunate and have a wife,I would much rather live contented thanEngaged in all the wars of married life,And what's more troublesome than matrimonial strife?
I do not mean that I've experienced this—(The subject 'tis a pity I began)I never knew that fancied state of bliss,I'm not, my friends, in short, a married man,So cannot judge as well as others canWho are more fortunate and have a wife,I would much rather live contented thanEngaged in all the wars of married life,And what's more troublesome than matrimonial strife?
CXIII.
In fact I often “wish I were a bird”I'd fly and fly and fly to—Heaven knows where,And, if such happy chance to me occurred,I'd visit all the windows of the fair,To see if they had kisses I could bear,And be the General Post Office above,And do all sorts of things I do declare;'Twere better, too, I think to be a dove,That gentle bird so suited to affairs of love.
In fact I often “wish I were a bird”I'd fly and fly and fly to—Heaven knows where,And, if such happy chance to me occurred,I'd visit all the windows of the fair,To see if they had kisses I could bear,And be the General Post Office above,And do all sorts of things I do declare;'Twere better, too, I think to be a dove,That gentle bird so suited to affairs of love.
CXIV.
Oh, bother interruptions, when a chapHas something most particular to say!My mother calls—there must be some mishap,So I must leave it for another day;I should be whacked severely did I stay,And that would be a pity you must own,And so 'twere better for me to obeyWith much regret at leaving you alone,But 'tis a great necessity as I have shewn.
Oh, bother interruptions, when a chapHas something most particular to say!My mother calls—there must be some mishap,So I must leave it for another day;I should be whacked severely did I stay,And that would be a pity you must own,And so 'twere better for me to obeyWith much regret at leaving you alone,But 'tis a great necessity as I have shewn.
CXV.
I'm hungry too, and I must feed sometimesAs other folks accustomed are to do;I'm not of those who fatten on their rhymes,My reader kind, between myself and you;So this abruptly-ended interviewWith circumstances such you will forgive,The thread of my narration I'll renewTo-morrow or the next day if I live,That is of course if your attention you will give.
I'm hungry too, and I must feed sometimesAs other folks accustomed are to do;I'm not of those who fatten on their rhymes,My reader kind, between myself and you;So this abruptly-ended interviewWith circumstances such you will forgive,The thread of my narration I'll renewTo-morrow or the next day if I live,That is of course if your attention you will give.
CXVI.
Ta-ta for now, and may you ever beThe good forbearing friend I knew you once,And may you yet proceed indulgently,Permit my story and forgive the dunce,In spite of these most troublesome affronts;Let's see how long since last I flew my kite,Yes, certainly it must be some few months,And here I am again at it to-night,It's enough to tax the patience of a Bedlamite.
Ta-ta for now, and may you ever beThe good forbearing friend I knew you once,And may you yet proceed indulgently,Permit my story and forgive the dunce,In spite of these most troublesome affronts;Let's see how long since last I flew my kite,Yes, certainly it must be some few months,And here I am again at it to-night,It's enough to tax the patience of a Bedlamite.
CXVII.
You know the author for you see him here,He weeps or smiles as here he doth rehearse,Oh, critic, stay, and drop but Pity's tear,If not for him, the author—for his verse:Full many have done better but few worse,And surely he's the very first to know it,Of course there's much to talk of when converse,Like friend and friend, the critic and his poet,But now I cannot stay, I'm in a hurry, blow it!
You know the author for you see him here,He weeps or smiles as here he doth rehearse,Oh, critic, stay, and drop but Pity's tear,If not for him, the author—for his verse:Full many have done better but few worse,And surely he's the very first to know it,Of course there's much to talk of when converse,Like friend and friend, the critic and his poet,But now I cannot stay, I'm in a hurry, blow it!
End of Canto II.
I.