The Lay of Marie - And Vignettes in Verse | Page 5

of such
exceeding weight,

And free thee from one earthly chain!
Envy and
over-weening hate
Would on thy orphan greatness wait;
Folly that
supple nature bend
For parasites to scorn thy friend;
And pamper'd
vanity incline
To wilful blindness such as mine!

"'Thee to the altar yet I bring!
Hear me, my Saviour and my King!

Again I for my child resign
All worldly good! but make her thine!

Let her soft footsteps gently move,
Nor waken grief, nor injure love;

Carelessly trampling on the ground
That priceless gem, so rarely
found;
That treasure, which, should angels guard,
Would all their
vigilance reward!
"'My mind refuses still to fear
She should be cold or insincere;
That
aught like meanness should debase
One of our rash and wayward race,

No! most I dread intemperate pride,
Deaf ardour, reckless, and
untried,
With firm controul and skilful rein,
Its hurrying fever to
restrain!
"'Others might wish their soul's delight
Should be most lovely to the
sight;
And beauty vainly I ador'd,
Serv'd with my eye, my tongue,
my sword;
Nay, let me not from truth depart!
Enshrin'd and
worship'd it at heart.
Oft, when her mother fix'd my gaze,
Enwrapt,
on bright perfection's blaze,
Hopes the imperious spell beguil'd,

Transcendant thus to see my child:
But now, for charms of form or
face,
Save only purity and grace;
Save sweetness, which all rage
disarms,
Would lure an infant to her arms
In instantaneous love;
and make
A heart, like mine, with fondness ache;
I little care, so
she be free
From such remorse as preys on me!'
"My dearest father!--Yet he grew
Profoundly anxious, as he knew

More of the dangers lurking round;
But I was on enchanted ground!

Delighted with my minstrel art,
I had a thousand lays by heart;

And while my yet unpractis'd tongue
Descanted on the strains I sung,

Still seeking treasure, like a bee,
I laugh'd and caroll'd, wild with
glee!
"Delicious moments then I knew,
When the rough winds against me
blew:
When, from the top of mountain steep,
I glanc'd my eye along
the deep;
Or, proud the keener air to breathe,
Exulting saw the vale

beneath.
When, launch'd in some lone boat, I sought
A little
kingdom for my thought,
Within a river's winding cove,
Whose
forests form a double grove,
And, from the water's silent flow,

Appear more beautiful below;
While their large leaves the lilies lave,

Or plash upon the shadow'd wave;
While birds, with darken'd
pinions, fly
Across that still intenser sky;
Fish, with cold plunge,
with startling leap,
Or arrow-flight across the deep;
And stilted
insects, light-o-limb,
Would dimple o'er the even brim;
If, with my
hand, in play, I chose
The cold, smooth current to oppose,
As fine a
spell my senses bound
As vacant bosom ever found!
"And when I took my proudest post,
Near him on earth I valued most,

(No after-time could banish thence
A father's dear pre-eminence,)

And felt the kind, protecting charm,
The clasp of a paternal arm;

Felt, as instinctively it prest,
The sacred magnet of his breast,

'Gainst which I lean'd, and seem'd to grow,
With that deep fondness
none can know,
Whom Providence does not assign
A parent
excellent as mine!
That faith beyond, above mistrust,
That gratitude,
so wholly just,
Each several, crowding claim forgot,
Whose source
was light, without a blot;
No moment of unkindness shrouding,
No
speck of anger overclouding:
An awful and a sweet controul,
A
rainbow arching o'er the soul;
A soothing, tender thrill, which clung

Around the heart, while, all unstrung,
The thought was still, and
mute the tongue!
"O! in that morn of life is given
To one so tun'd, a sumptuous dower!

Joys, which have flown direct from heaven,

And Graces, captive in
her bower.
"Thoughts which can sail along the skies,
Or poise upon the buoyant
air;
And make a peasant's soul arise
A monarch's mighty power to
share.
"When all that we perceive below,
By land or sea, by night or day,


The past, the future, and the flow
Of present times, their tribute pay.
"Each bird, from cleft, from brake, or bower,
Bears her a blessing on
its wings;
And every rich and precious flower
Its fragrance on her
spirit flings.
"There's not a star that shines above
But pours on her a partial ray;

Endearments, like maternal love,
Her love to Nature's self repay.
"Faith, Hope, and Joy about her heart,
Close interlace the angel arm;

And with caresses heal the smart
Of every care, and every harm.
"Amid the wealth, amid the blaze
Of luxury and pomp around,
How
poor is all the eye surveys
To what we know of fairy ground!"
She ceases, and her tears flow fast--
O! can this fit of softness last,

Which, so unlook'd for, comes to share
The sickly triumph of despair?

Upon the harp her head is thrown,
All round is like a vision flown;

And o'er a billowy surge her mind
Views lost delight left far
behind.
THE LAY OF MARIE.
CANTO SECOND.
Some, fearing Marie's tale was o'er,
Lamented that they heard no
more;
While Brehan, from her broken lay,
Portended what she yet
might say.
As the untarrying minutes flew,
More anxious and
alarm'd he grew.
At length he spake:--"We wait too long
The
remnant of this wilder'd song!
And too tenaciously we press
Upon
the languor of distress!
'Twere better, sure that hence convey'd,
And
in some noiseless chamber laid,
Attentive care, and soothing rest,

Appeas'd the anguish of her breast."
Low was his voice, but Marie heard:
He hasten'd on the thing he

fear'd.
She rais'd her