Poems, 1799 | Page 3

hour,?Assail the sinking heart! slow beats the pulse,?Dim grows the eye, and clammy drops bedew?The shuddering frame; then in its mightiest force,?Mightiest in impotence, the love of life?Seizes the throbbing heart, the faltering lips?Pour out the impious prayer, that fain would change?The unchangeable's decree, surrounding friends?Sob round the sufferer, wet his cheek with tears,?And all he loved in life embitters death!
Such, Maiden, are the pangs that wait the hour?Of calmest dissolution! yet weak man?Dares, in his timid piety, to live;?And veiling Fear in Superstition's garb,?He calls her Resignation!
Coward wretch!?Fond Coward! thus to make his Reason war?Against his Reason! Insect as he is,?This sport of Chance, this being of a day,?Whose whole existence the next cloud may blast,?Believes himself the care of heavenly powers,?That God regards Man, miserable Man,?And preaching thus of Power and Providence,?Will crush the reptile that may cross his path!
Fool that thou art! the Being that permits?Existence, 'gives' to man the worthless boon:?A goodly gift to those who, fortune-blest,?Bask in the sunshine of Prosperity,?And such do well to keep it. But to one?Sick at the heart with misery, and sore?With many a hard unmerited affliction,?It is a hair that chains to wretchedness?The slave who dares not burst it!
Thinkest thou,?The parent, if his child should unrecall'd?Return and fall upon his neck, and cry,?Oh! the wide world is comfortless, and full?Of vacant joys and heart-consuming cares,?I can be only happy in my home?With thee--my friend!--my father! Thinkest thou,?That he would thrust him as an outcast forth??Oh I he would clasp the truant to his heart,?And love the trespass."
Whilst he spake, his eye?Dwelt on the Maiden's cheek, and read her soul?Struggling within. In trembling doubt she stood,?Even as the wretch, whose famish'd entrails crave?Supply, before him sees the poison'd food?In greedy horror.
Yet not long the Maid?Debated, "Cease thy dangerous sophistry,?Eloquent tempter!" cried she. "Gloomy one!?What tho' affliction be my portion here,?Think'st thou I do not feel high thoughts of joy.?Of heart-ennobling joy, when I look back?Upon a life of duty well perform'd,?Then lift mine eyes to Heaven, and there in faith?Know my reward? I grant, were this life all,?Was there no morning to the tomb's long night,?If man did mingle with the senseless clod,?Himself as senseless, then wert thou indeed?A wise and friendly comforter! But, Fiend!?There is a morning to the tomb's long night,?A dawn of glory, a reward in Heaven,?He shall not gain who never merited.?If thou didst know the worth of one good deed?In life's last hour, thou would'st not bid me lose?The power to benefit; if I but save?A drowning fly, I shall not live in vain.?I have great duties, Fiend! me France expects,?Her heaven-doom'd Champion."
"Maiden, thou hast done?Thy mission here," the unbaffled Fiend replied:?"The foes are fled from Orleans: thou, perchance?Exulting in the pride of victory,?Forgettest him who perish'd! yet albeit?Thy harden'd heart forget the gallant youth;?That hour allotted canst thou not escape,?That dreadful hour, when Contumely and Shame?Shall sojourn in thy dungeon. Wretched Maid!?Destined to drain the cup of bitterness,?Even to its dregs! England's inhuman Chiefs?Shall scoff thy sorrows, black thy spotless fame,?Wit-wanton it with lewd barbarity,?And force such burning blushes to the cheek?Of Virgin modesty, that thou shalt wish?The earth might cover thee! in that last hour,?When thy bruis'd breast shall heave beneath the chains?That link thee to the stake; when o'er thy form,?Exposed unmantled, the brute multitude?Shall gaze, and thou shalt hear the ribald taunt,?More painful than the circling flames that scorch?Each quivering member; wilt thou not in vain?Then wish my friendly aid? then wish thine ear?Had drank my words of comfort? that thy hand?Had grasp'd the dagger, and in death preserved?Insulted modesty?"
Her glowing cheek?Blush'd crimson; her wide eye on vacancy?Was fix'd; her breath short panted. The cold Fiend,?Grasping her hand, exclaim'd, "too-timid Maid,?So long repugnant to the healing aid?My friendship proffers, now shalt thou behold?The allotted length of life."
He stamp'd the earth,?And dragging a huge coffin as his car,?Two GOULS came on, of form more fearful-foul?Than ever palsied in her wildest dream?Hag-ridden Superstition. Then DESPAIR?Seiz'd on the Maid whose curdling blood stood still.?And placed her in the seat; and on they pass'd?Adown the deep descent. A meteor light?Shot from the Daemons, as they dragg'd along?The unwelcome load, and mark'd their brethren glut?On carcasses.
Below the vault dilates?Its ample bulk. "Look here!"--DESPAIR addrest?The shuddering Virgin, "see the dome of DEATH!"?It was a spacious cavern, hewn amid?The entrails of the earth, as tho' to form?The grave of all mankind: no eye could reach,?Tho' gifted with the Eagle's ample ken,?Its distant bounds. There, thron'd in darkness, dwelt?The unseen POWER OF DEATH.
Here stopt the GOULS,?Reaching the destin'd spot. The Fiend leapt out,?And from the coffin, as he led the Maid,?Exclaim'd, "Where never yet stood mortal man,?Thou standest: look around this boundless vault;?Observe the dole that Nature deals to man,?And learn to know thy friend."
She not replied,?Observing where the