Tales of wonder;
None
afim f*fc- ) iW< DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Treasure 'Room ^ «5^ ;*#&& itfi %'v %M*s. ^& i®m .**m£i^ i *:•• Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from Duke University Libraries http://archive.org/details/talesofwonder01lewi TALES OF WONDER; WRITTEN AND COLLECTED BY M. G. LEWIS, Esq. M. P. AUTHOR OF THE MONK, CASTLE SPECTRE, LOVE OF GAIN, &C. IN TWO VOLUMES. Black spirits and white, Blue spirits and grey, Mingle, mingle, mingle, Ye that mingle may ! macbeth. vol ir. LONDON: PRINTED BY W. BULMER AND CO. CLEVELAND-ROW, FOR THE AUTHOR ,* AND SOLD BY J. BELL, NO. 14S, OXFORD-STREET, OPPOSITE NEW BOND-STREET. 1801. 491610 CONTENTS OF VOL. II. L&lb \ /■■■ No. Page- XXXIII. Tarn O'Shanter - - -237 XXXIV. The Witches' Song - - -250 XXXV. Admiral Hosier's Ghost - - - 254 XXXVI. Margaret's Ghost - - - 259 XXXVII. The Hermit - - - 263 XXXVIII. Edwin of the Green - - .- 275 XXXIX. Theodore and Honoria - - 284 XL. Dreams - 302 XLI. History of Porsenna, King of Russia - 309 XLII. The Fatal Sisters - - - 347 XLIII. The Descent of Odin - - - 352 XLIV. The Witch of Wokey - - - 358 XLV. The Marriage of Sir Gawaine - - 362 XLVI. King Arthur's Death - 379 XLVII. Fair Margaret, and Sweet William - - 389 XLVIII. Sweet William's Ghost - - - 394 XLIX. The Boy and the Mantle - - - 398 L. St. Patrick's Purgatory - - - 409 LI. The Cinder King - - - - 416 LII. The Bleeding Nun ... 419 LIII. The Maid of the Moor, or the Water Fiends 426 LIV. The Laidley Worm of Spindlestone Heughs 434 LV. Mary's Dream - - - 443 LVI. Clerk  ... 457 LX. Lenora - ... 469 ERRATA. Page 257, line 8, for meet, read met, — 296, — 20, for launched read launced. — 323, — 22, for high read hie. 237 No- XXXIII. TAM O'SHANTEK. ROBERT BURNS. When chapman billies * leave the street, And drouthy* neebors,3 neebors meet, As market-days are wearing late, An' * folk begin to tak the gate ; ! While we sit bousing6 at the nappy, An' getting fou7 and unco 8 happy, We think na9 on the lang10 Scots miles, The mosses, waters, slaps," and styles, That lie between us and our hame," Whare ,3 sits our sulky sullen dame, ' Billies, brothers. * Drovthy, thirsty. * Neebors, neighbours. ♦ An', and. s Tak the gate, return home. 6 Bousing, drinking. 7 Fou, drunk. * Unco, very. * Na, not. 10 Lang, long. " Slaps, gates, or breaches in fences. '* Hame, home. ,J Whare, where. 23$ Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. This truth fand ' honest Tarn O'Shanter, As he frae x Ayr ae 3 night did canter, (Auld4 Ayr wham5 ne'er a town surpasses, For honest men and bonny6 lasses.) O Tam ! had'st thou but been sae 7 wise, As ta'en thy ain8 wife Kate's advice ! She tauld 9 thee weel *° thou was a skellum," A blethering,11 blustering, drunken blellum ; That frae November till October, Ae market-day thou was nae n sober ; That ilka ,4 melder, wi' " the miller, Thou sat as lang as thou had siller ; l6 That every naig I7 was cad IS a shoe on, The smith and thee gat roaring fou on; That at the L d's house, even on Sunday, Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. 1 Fand, found. * Frae, from. 3 Ae, one. * Auld, old. s Wham, whom. 6 Bunny, or bonnie, handsome. 7 Sae, so. 8 Ain, own. 9 Tauld, told. 10 Weel, well. 11 Skellum, a rogue. ** Blethering, talking idly. 13 Nae, never '* Ilka, each. •5 Wi', with. 16 Siller, money IT Naig, a horse. '* Cad, nailed 239 She prophesy'd that, late or soon, Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon : Or catch'd wi' Avarlocks * in the mirk,1 By Alloway's auld haunted kirk.3 Ah, gentle dames ! it gars me greet,4 To think how mony 5 counsels sweet, How mony lengthen'd sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises ! But to our tale : Ae market niwht. Tam had got planted unco right ; Fast by an ingle,6 bleezing 7 finely, Wi' reaming swats,8 that drank divinely; And at his elbow, Souter 9 Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ; I0 Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither ; " They had been fou for weeks thegither. ™ The night drave I3 on wi' sangs and clatter ; ** And ay the ale was growing better : * Warlock, a wizzard. z Mirk, dark. 3 Kirk, churcli. * Gars me greet, makes me weep. 5 Mony, many. 6 Ingle, fire. 7 Bleezing, burning. s Reaming swats, a sort of liquor. 9 Souter, a shoemaker. IO Crony, or cronie, an old acquaintance. 11 Vera brither, very brother. " Thegither, together. 13 Drave, passed. ' l* Sangs and clatter, songs and discourse. 240 The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious : The souter tauld his queerest stories ; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus : The storm without might rair ' and rustle, Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drown'd himself amang2, the nappy, As bees flee hame wi' lades 3 o' * treasure, The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure : Kings may be bless'd, but Tam was glorious, O'er a' 5 the hills o' life victorious ! But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white then melts for ever ; Or like the borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place ; Or like the rainbow's lovely form, Evanishing; amid the storm. — Nae man can tether 6 time or tide ; The hour approaches Tam maun 7 ride ; 1 Rair, roar. * Among, among. 3 Lades, loads. ♦ 0', of. s A', all. 6 Tether, tie. \Maun, must. 241 That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane, That dreary hour he mounts his beast in ; And sic ' a night he tacks * the road in, As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn* its last; The rattling showers rose on the blast; The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd ; Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow'd ; That night, a child might understand, The deil * had business on his hand. Weel 5 mounted on his grey mare, Meg, A better never lifted leg, Tam skelpit6 on through dub and mire/ Despising wind, and rain, and fire; Whiles 8 holding fast his gude 9 blue bonnet ; Whiles crooning10 o'er some auld Scots sonnet; Whiles glow'ring " round wi' prudent cares, Lest bogles ™ catch him unawares : Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Whare ghaists'1 and houlets'4 nightly cry. — 1 Sic, such. a Tacks, takes. 3 As 'twad blawn, as if it would have blown. * Deil, the devil. * Weel, well. 6 Skelpit, galloped. 7 Dub, a pool. * Whiles, sometimes. 9 Gude, good. 10 Crooning, humming. " Glow'ring, staring. ,x Bogles, bad spirits. f3 Ghaists, ghosts. ,4 Houlets, owls. S 242 By this time he was cross the ford, Whare in the snaw1 the chapman smoor'd;* And past the birks* and meikle stane,* Whare drunken Charlie brakV neck-bane ;8 And thro' the whins, and by the cairn/ Whare hunters fand8 the murder'd bairn;9 And near the thorn, aboon I0 the well, Whare Mungo's mither " hang'd hersel Before him Doon pours all his floods ; The doubling storm roars thro' the woods ; The lightnings flash from pole to pole ; Near and more near the thunders roll : When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze ; " Thro' ilka bore*3 the beams were glancing; And loud resounded mirth and dancing.— Inspiring bold John Barleycorn!** What dangers thou canst make us scorn ! Wi' tippeny, '- we fear nae evil ; Wi' usquabae we'll face the devil !■ — * Snaiv, snow. * Smoor'd, smothered. 3 Birks, birch trees. 4 Meikle stane, a large stone. 5 Brak's, broke his. 6 Neck-bane, neck bone. 7 Cairn, a heap of stones. 8 Fand, found. 9 Bairn, a child. 10 Aboon, above. " Mither, mother. "■ Bleeze, blaze. 13 Bore, crevice. ** and ** John Barleycorn, and Tippeny, terms for malt liquor. 243 The swats* sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle,* Fair play, he car'd na3 deils a boddle4 But Maggie stood right sair5 astonish'd, Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd, She ventured forward on the light ; And, vow ! Tam saw an unco 6 sight ! Warlocks and witches in a dance ; Nae cotillion brent 7 new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, Put life and mettle in their heels. A winnock-bunker 8 in the east, There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; A towzie-tyke, 9 black, grim, and large, To gie ,0 them music was his charge : He screw'd the pipes and gart " them skirl, " Till roof and rafters a' did dirl." — Coffins stood round, like open presses,'* That shaw'd " the dead in their last dresses ; And by some devilish cantrip ,<s slight, Each in its cauld I7 hand held a light. — 1 Swats, fumes. * Noddle, head. 3 Car'd na, minded not. 4 Boddle, a farthing. s Sair, sore. 6 Unco, strange. 7 Brent, brought. 8 Winnock-bunker, a window. 9 Towzie-tyke, a shaggy dog. 10 To gie, give. » Gart, made. " Skirl, to cry out. 13 Dirl, rattle, shake. ,+ Presses, closets for linen, a sort of cupboards. 15 Shaw'd, shewed. l6 Cantrip, a charm, or spell. 1 Cauld, cold. R S 244 By which heroic Tarn was able To note upon the haly* table, A murderer's banes* in gibbet aims ;3 Twa span-lang,4 wee,5 unchristen'd bairns ; A thief, new-cutted frae a rape,6 Wi' his last gasp his gab ' did gape ; Five tomahawks, wi blude* red-rusted, Five scymitars, wi" murder crusted; A garter, which a babe had strangled, A knife, a father's throat had mangled, Whom his ain 9 son o' life bereft, The grey hairs yet stack IO to the heft;" Wi' mair" o' horrible and awefu', Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'. As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious : The piper loud and louder blew ; The dancers quick and quicker flew; They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit, Till ilka carlin " swat I4 and reekit, IS * Haly table, holy table. a Banes, bones. 3 Aims, irons. * Twa span-lang, two spans in length. 5 Wee, little. 6 New-cutted frae a rape, new cut from a rope. 7 Gab, mouth. * Blude, blood. 9 Ain, own. ,0 Stack, stuck. " Heft, haft. 11 Mair, more. 13 Carlin, a stout old woman. 14 Swat, sweated. ,s Reekit, smoked. 245 And coost her duddies " to the wark,* And linket5 at it in her sark !4 Now Tam, 0 Tam ! had thaes been queans,6 A' plump and strapping in their teens, Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen,7 Been snaw-whites seventeen hunder linnen ! Thir breeks9 o' mine, my only pair, • That ance IO were plush, o' gude blue hair, I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies, For ae blink * o' the bonnie burdies I " But wither'd beldams, auld and droll, Rigwoodie hags wad spean13 a foal, Lowping14 an* flinging on a crummock,15 I wonder didna ' turn thy stomach. But Tam kend17 what was what fu' brawlie," . There was ae winsome '9 wench and wawlie,10 * Coost her duddies, cast off her clothes. * Wark, work, 3 Linkit, danced. 4 Sark, a shift. 5 Thae, these. 6 Queans, lasses. 7 Chreeshieflannen, greasy flannel. 8 Snare-white, snow-white. 9 Thir breeks, these breeches. 10 Ance, once. " Ae blink, one look. 11 Bonnie burdies, pretty creatures. ,3 Wad spean, would wean. ,+ Lowping, jumping. *5 Crummock, a crutch. 10 Didna, did not. "7 Kend, knew. ,s Braiolie, very well. " Winsome, buxom. *° Waiolie, comely. 246 That night enlisted in the core,' (Lang after kend on Carrick shore ; For mony a beast to dead1 she shot, And perish'd mony a bonnie boat, And shook baith* meikle corn and bear,4 And kept the country-side in fear) , ' Her cutty sark,5 o' Paisley harn,6 That while a lassie7 she had worn, In longitude tho' sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vauntie.8 — Ah ! little kend thy reverend grannie," That sark she coft ,0 for her wee Nannie, Wi' twa pund Scots," ('twas a' her riches), Wad ever grace a dance of witches ! But here my Muse her wing maun cour;" Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r ; To sing how Nannie lap and flang, " (A souple'*jade she was and Strang"), And how Tam stood, like ane ,6 bewitch'd, And thought his very een " enrich'd ; * Core, corps. z Dead, death. 3 Baith, both. 4 Bear, barley. 5 Cutty sark, short shift. 6 Harn, a sort of cloth. 7 Lassie, a little girl. 8 Vauntie, proud. 9 Grannie, grandmother, IO Coft, spun. " Twa pund Scots, two pound Scottish. 12 Maun cour, must lower. " Lap and flang, jumped and flung. 14 Souple, supple. '* Strang, strong. ,6 Ane, one. *7 Een, eyes. 247 Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain,1 And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main : Till first ae caper, syne anither,1 Tam tint3 his reason a' thegither, 4 And roars out, " Weel done, Cutty-sark ! " And in an instant all was dark : And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz 5 out wi' angry fyke,6 When plundering herds' assail their byke ;' As open pussie's 9 mortal foes, When pop ! she starts before their nose ; As eager runs the market-crowd, When " Catch the thief! " resounds aloud ; So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Wi' mony an eldritch ,0 skreech and hollow. Ah, Tam ! Ah, Tam ! thou'll get thy fairin !" In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin ! 1 Fidg'd fu' fain, became very restless. * Syne anither, then another. 3 Tint, lost. * A' thegither, entirely. ! Bizz, buzz. 6 Fyke, mood. 7 Herds, shepherds. 8 Byke, a bee-hive. 9 Pussie's, a hare. * ° Eldritch, skreech, frightful scream. " Fairin, a fairing, a present. 248 In Vain thy Kate awaits thy comin ! * Kate soon will be a woefu' woman ! Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, And win the key-stane* of the brig;* There at them thou thy tail may toss, A running stream they dare na cross. But ere the key-stane she could make, The fient a tail ' she had to shake ! For Nannie, far before the rest, Hard upon noble Maggie prest, And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;* But little wist she Maggie's mettle Ae spring* brought off her master hale," But left behind her ain T gray tail : The carlin claught * her by the rump, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. Now, wha ' this tale o' truth shall read, Ilk ™ man and mother's son, take heed : * It is a well known fact, that witches, or any evil spirits, have no power to follow a poor wight any farther than the middle of the next running stream. It may be proper likewise to mention to the benighted traveller, that when he falls in with bogles, whatever danger may be in his going forward, there is much more hazard in turning back. 1 Comin, coming. * Brig, bridge. 3 Thejient a tail, fient is a petty oath, as, " the devil a tail." * Ettle , zeal. 5 Ae spring, one jump. 6 Hale, whole. ' Ain, own. 8 Claught, seized hold on. 9 Wha, who. '° Ilk, each. 249 Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd, Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear,' Remember Tarn o' Shanter's mare. 1 O'er dear, too dear, 250 No. XXXIV. THE WITCHES' SONG. BEN JONSON. " From the Masque of Queens, presented at Whitehall, Feb. 2d, 1609.' I WITCH. I have been all day looking after A raven feeding upon a quarter ; And, soone as she turn'd her beak to the south, I snatch'd this morsell out of her mouth. 2 WITCH. 1 have beene gathering wolves haires, The madd dogges foames, and adders eares ; The spurging of a deadman's eyes : And all since the evening starre did rise. 3 WITCH. I last night lay all alone On the ground, to heare the mandrake .grone; 251 And pluck'd him up, though he grew full low And, as I had done, the cocke did crow. 4 WITCH. And I ha' beene chusing out this scull From charnell houses that were full ; From private grots, and publike pits ; And frighted a sexton out of his wits. 5 WITCH. Under a cradle I did crepe By day ; and, when the childe was a-sleepe At night, I suck'd the breath ; and rose. And pluck'd the nodding nurse by the nose. 6 WITCH. I had a dagger : what did I with that ? Killed an infant to have his fat. A piper it got at a church-ale, I bade him again blow the wind i' the taile. 7 WITCH. A murderer, yonder, was hung in chaines ; The sunne and the wind had shrunke his veines ; I bit off a sinew ; 1 clipp'd his haire ; I brought off his ragges, that danced i' the ayre. 252 8 WITCH. The scrich-owles egges and the feathers blacke, The bloud of the frogge, and the bone in his backe I have been getting; and made of his skin A purset, to keep Sir Cranion in. 9 WITCH. And I ha' beene plucking (plants among) Hemlock, henbane, adders-tongue, Night-shade, moone-wort, libbards-bane ; And twise by the dogges was like to be tane, I o WITCH. I from the jawes of a gardeners bitch Did snatch these bones, and then leap'd the ditch: Yet went I back to the house againe, Kill'd the blacke cat, and here is the braine, I I WITCH, I went to the toad, breedes under the wall, I charmed him out, and he came at my call ; I scratch'd out the eyes of the owle before ; I tore the batt's wing : what would you have more ? 253 DAME. Yes : I have brought, to helpe your vows, Horned poppie, cypresse boughes, The fig-tree wild, that growes on tombes, And juice that from the larch-tree comes, The basiliske s bloud, and the viper's skin And now our orgies let's begin. 254 No. XXXV. ADMIRAL HOSIER'S GHOST. GLOVER. " This was a Party Song, written by the ingenious Author of Leonidas, on the taking of Porto-Bello from the Spaniards by Admiral Vernon, Nov. 22, 1739. — The case of Hosier, which is here so pathetically represented, was briefly this: In April, VJ26, that commander was sent with a strong fleet into the Spanish West Indies, to block up the galleons in the ports of that country, or should they presume to come out, to seize and carry them intoEngland: he accordingly arrived at the Bastimentos near Porto-Bello; but being employed rather to overawe than to attack the Spaniards, with whom it was probably not our interest to go to war, he continued long inac- tive on that station, to his own great regret. He afterwards removed to Carthagena, and remained cruizing in these seas, till far the greater part of his men perished deplorably by tlie diseases of that unhealthy climate. This brave man, seeing his best officers and men thus daily swept away, his ships exposed to inevitable destruction, and himself made the sport of the enemy, is said to have died of a broken heart. Such is the account of Smollet, compared with that of other less partial writers. " As near Porto-Bello lying, On the gently swelling flood, At midnight, with streamers flying, Our triumphant navy rode ; 255 There, while Vernon sate all glorious From the Spaniards' late defeat, And his crews, with shout victorious, Drank success to England's fleet, On a sudden, shrilly sounding, Hideous yells and shrieks were heard ; Then, each heart with fear confounding, A sad troop of ghosts appear'd, All in dreary hammocks shrouded, Which for winding sheets they wore, And with looks, by sorrow clouded, Frowning on that hostile shore. On them gleam'd the moon's wan lustre, When the shade of Hosier brave His pale bands was seen to muster, Rising from their watery grave. O'er the glimmering wave he hied him, Where the Burford * rear'd her sail, With three thousand ghosts beside him, And in groans did Vernon hail. — " Heed, oh heed our fatal story, " I am Hosier's injured ghost; " You, who now have purchased glory, " At this place where I was lost! * Admiral Vernon's ship. 256 ft Though in Porto-Bello's ruin, " You now triumph, free from fears, ,c When you think on our undoing, " You will mix your joy with tears. " See these mournful spectres sweeping " Ghastly o'er this hated wave, " Whose wan cheeks are stain'd with weeping ; " These were English captains brave. " Mark those numbers, pale and horrid, *' Those were once my sailors bold : " Lo, each hangs his drooping forehead, •* While his dismal tale is told ! " I, by twenty sail attended, " Did this Spanish town aflFright ; " Nothing then its wealth defended, "But my orders not to fight. '• Oh ! that in this rolling ocean '• I had cast them with disdain, •' And obey'd my heart's warm motion • ' To have quell'd the pride of Spain 1 1 • For resistance I could fear none, '•' But with twenty ships had done " What thou, brave and happy Vernon, " Hast achiev'd with six alone. 257 ** Then the bastimentos never " Had our foul dishonour seen, •« Nor the sea the sad receiver •' Of" this gallant train had been, *• Thus, like thee, proud Spain dismaying, " And her galleons leading home, '• Though condemn'd for disobeying, " I had meet a traitor's doom ; " To have fallen, my country crying " He has play'd an English part, •* Had been better far than dying ' ' Of a grieved and broken heart. " Unrepining at thy glory, " Thy successful arms we hail; " But remember our sad story, " And let Hosier's wrongs prevail. " Sent in this foul clime to languish, " Think what thousands fell in vain, " Wasted with disease and anguish, " Not in glorious battle slain. " Hence with all my train attending " From their oozy tombs below; M Through the hoary foam ascending, " Here I feed my constant woe : 258 " Here, the bastimentos viewing, 1 • We recal our shameful doom , " And, our plaintive cries renewing, " Wander through the midnight gloom. '* O'er these waves for ever mourning " Shall we roam, deprived of rest, " If, to Britain's shores returning, " You neglect my just request; ** After this proud foe subduing, *• When your patriot friends you see, •' Think on vengeance for my ruin, " And for England shamed in me." — 259 No. XXXVI. MARGARET'S GHOST. MALLET. 'Twas at the silent solemn hour, When night and morning meet, In glided Margaret's grimly ghost, And stood at William's feet. Her face was like an April morn, Clad in a wintry cloud ; And clay-cold was her lily hand, That held her sable shroud. So shall the fairest face appear, When youth and years are flown : Such is the robe that kings must wear, When death has reft their crown. s 2 260 Her bloom was like the springing flower, That sips the silver dew ; The rose was budded in her cheek, Just opening to the view. But love had, like the canker-worm, Consumed her early prime : The rose grew pale, and left her cheek ; — She died before her time. — " Awake !" she cried, " thy true love calls, " Come from her midnight grave ; " Now let thy pity hear the maid " Thy love refused to save. " This is the dark and dreary hour, • • When injured ghosts complain ; " Now yawning graves give up their dead, " To haunt the faithless swain. " Bethink thee, William, of thy fault, " Thy pledge, and broken oath ; " And give me back my maiden vow, " And give me back my troth. 261 " Why did you promise love to me, " And not that promise keep ? *' Why did you swear mine eyes were bright, " Yet leave those eyes to weep ? «' How could you say my face was fair, " And yet that face forsake ? " How could you win my virgin heart, ' ' Yet leave that heart to break ? ff Why did you say my lip was sweet, " And made the scarlet pale? " And why did I, young witless maid, " Believe the flattering tale? o " That face, alas ! no more is fair; " These lips no longer red : " Dark are my eyes, now closed in death, " And every charm is fled. " The hungry worm my sister is ; • ' This winding sheet I wear : 41 And cold and weary lasts our night, " Till that last morn appear. 262 " But hark ! the cock has warn'd me hence ! " A long and last adieu ! *' Come see, false man, how low she lies " Who died for love of you.'' — The lark sung loud, the morning smiled With beams of rosy red ; Pale William shook in every limb, And raving left his bed- He hied him to the fatal place, Where Margaret's body lay ; And stretch'd him on the grass-green turf, That wrapt her breathless clay. And thrice he call'd on Margaret's name, And thrice he wept full sore ; Then laid his cheek to her cold grave, And word spake never more. 263 No. XXXVII. THE HERMIT. PARNELL. Far in a wild, unknown to public view, From youth to age a reverend Hermit grew. The moss Lis bed, the cave his humble cell, His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well : Remote from men, with God he pass'd the days, Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise. A life so sacred, such serene repose, Seem'd heav'n itself, till one suggestion rose ; That Vice should triumph, Virtue Vice obey, This sprung some doubt of Providence's sway: His hopes no more a certain prospect boast, And all the tenour of his soul is lost : So, when a smooth expanse receives impress'd Calm nature's image on its watery breast, 264 Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow, And skies beneath with answering colours glow : But if a stone the gentle sea divide, Swift ruffling circles curl on every side, And glimmering fragments of a broken sun, Banks, trees, and skies, in thick disorder run. tci&D To clear this doubt, to know the world by sight, To find if books, or swains, report it right, (For yet by swains alone the world he knew, Whose feet came wandering o'er the nightly dew,) He quits his cell ; the pilgrim -staff he bore, And fix'd the scallop in his hat before ; Then with the sun a rising journey went, Sedate to think, and watching each event. ?dr The morn was wasted in the pathless grass, And long and lonesome was the wild to pass ; But when the southern sun had warm'd the day, A Youth came posting o'er a crossing way ; His rayment decent, his complexion fair, And soft in graceful ringlets waved his hair. Then near approaching, — " Father, hail ! " he cried ; And — " Hail, my Son," — the reverend sire replied; Words follow'd words, from question answer flow'd, And talk of various kind deceived the road; 265 Till each with other pleased, and loath to part, While in their age they differ, join in heart : Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound, Thus youthful ivy clasps an elm around. Now sunk the sun ; the closing hour of day Came onward, mantled o'er with sober gray ; Nature in silence bid the world repose ; When near the road a stately palace rose : There, by the moon, through ranks of trees they pass, Whose verdure crown'd their sloping sides of grass. It chanced, the noble master of the dome Still made his house the wandering stranger's home : Yet still the kindness, from a thirst of praise, Proved the vain flourish of expensive ease. The pair arrive : the liveried servants wait ; Their lord receives them at the pompous gate. The table groans with costly piles of food, And all is more than hospitably good. Then led to rest, the day's long toil they drown, Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down. At length 'tis morn ; and at the dawn of day, Along the wide canals the Zephyrs play; Fresh o'er the gay parterres the breezes creep, And shake the neighbouring wood, to banish sleep. 266 Up rise the guests, obedient to the call : An early banquet deck'd the splendid hall ; Rich luscious wine a golden goblet graced, Which the kind master forced the guests to taste. Then pleased, and thankful, from the porch they go ; And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe ; His cup was vanish'd ; for, in secret guise, The younger guest purloin'd the glitt'ring prize. As one who spies a serpent in his way, Glistning and basking in the summer ray, Disorder'd stops, to shun the danger near, Then walks with faintness on, and looks with fear; So seem'd the sire ; when, far upon the road, The shining spoil his wily partner show'd, He stopp'd with silence, walk'd with trembling heart, And much he wish'd, but durst not ask, to part : Murmuring, he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard, That generous actions meet a base leward. While thus they pass, the sun his glory shrouds, The changing skies hang out their sable clouds : A sound in air presaged approaching rain, And beasts to covert, scud across the plain. Warn'd by the signs, the wandering pair retreat, To seek for shelter at a neighbouring seat : 267 'Twas built with turrets, on a rising ground, And strong, and large, and unimproved around ; Its owner's temper, timorous and severe, Unkind and griping, caused a desert there. As near the Miser's heavy doors they drew,. Fierce rising gusts with sudden fury blew; The nimble light'ning, mix'd with show'rs, began, And o'er their heads, loud-rolling thunder ran. Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain, Driven by the wind, and batter'd by the rain. At length some pity warm d the master's breast, ('Twas then his threshold first received a guest,) Slow creeking turns the door, with jealous care, And half he welcomes in, the shivering pair; One frugal faggot lights the naked walls, And nature's fervour, through their limbs recalls : Bread of the coarsest sort, with meager wine, Each hardly granted, served them both to dine ; And when the tempest first appear'd to cease, A ready warning bid them part in peace. With still remark, the pond'ring Hermit view'd. In one so rich, a life so poor and rude ; And why should such, within himself he cried, Lock the lost wealth, a thousand want beside? 268 But what new marks of wonder soon took place, In every settling feature of his face, When from his vest, the young companion bore That cup, the generous landlord own'd before, And paid profusely with the precious bowl, The stinted kindness of this churlish soul ! But now the clouds in airy tumult fly, The sun emerging opes an azure sky ; A fresher green the smelling leaves display, And, glittering as they tremble, cheer the day; The weather courts them from the poor retreat, And the glad master bolts the wary gate. While hence they walk, the Pilgrim's bosom wrought With all the travail of uncertain diought ; His partner's acts, without their cause, appear, 'Twas there a vice, and seem'd a madness here : Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes, Lost and confounded with the various shows. Now night's dim shades again involve the sky, Again the wanderers want a place to lie, Again they search, and find a lodging nigh. The soil improved around, the mansion neat, And neither poorly low, nor idly great : 269 It seem'd to speak its masters turn of mind, Content, and not for praise, but virtue kind. Hither the walkers turn, with weary feet, Then bless the mansion, and the master greet : Their greeting fair, bestow'd with modest guise, The courteous master hears, and thus replies : Without a vain, without a grudging heart, To Him who gives us all, I yield a part ; From Him you come, for Him accept it here, A frank and sober, more than costly cheer. He spoke, and bid the welcome table spread, Then talk'd of virtue till the time of bed, When the grave household round his hall repair, Warn'd by a bell, and close the hours with prayer. At length the world, renew'd by calm repose, Was strong for toil; the dappled morn arose; Before the Pilgrims part, the younger crept Near the closed cradle where an infant slept, And writhed his neck : the landlord's little pride, O strange return ! grew black, and gasp'd, and died. Horrour of horrours! what, his only son! How look'd our Hermit when die fact was done ! • 270 Not hell, though hell's black jaws in sunder part, And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart. Confused, and struck with silence at the deed, He flies, but, trembling, fails to fly with speed. His steps the Youth pursues : the country lay Perplex'd with roads ; a servant shew'd the way : A river cross'd the path ; the passage o'er Was nice to find ; the servant trod before ; Long arms of oaks an open bridge supplied, And deep the waves, beneath the bending, glide. The Youth, who seem'd to watch a time to sin, Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust him in ; Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his head, Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead. Wild sparkling rage inflames the Father's eyes, He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries : — " Detested wretch!" — But scarce his speech began, When the strange partner seem'd no longer man : His youthful face grew more serenely sweet ; His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet ; Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair ; Celestial odours breathe through purpled air ; And wings, whose colours glitter'd on the day, Wide at his back their gradual plumes display. 271 The form ethereal bursts upon his sight, And moves in all the majesty of light. Though loud at first the Pilgrim's passion grew, Sudden he gazed, and wist not what to do ; Surprise in secret chains his words suspends, And in a calm his settling temper ends. But silence here the beauteous angel broke, The voice of music ravish'd as he spoke : — " Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life, to vice unknown, "In sweet memorial rise before the throne : " These charms, success in our bright region find, " And force an Angel down, to calm thy mind ; *' For this, commission'd, I forsook the sky, " Nay, cease to kneel — thy fellow-servant I. " Then know the truth of government divine, " And let these scruples be no longer thine : " The Maker justly claims that world he made, " In this the right of Providence is laid ; " Its sacred majesty through all depends, " On using second means to work his ends : " 'Tis thus, withdrawn in state from human eye, " The Power exerts his attributes on high ; 272 " Your actions uses, nor controls your will, " And bids the doubting sons of men be still. " What strange events can strike with more surprise, " Than those which lately struck thy wandering eyes? " Yet, taught by these, confess the Almighty just, " And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust. " The great, vain man, who fared on costly food, " Whose life was too luxurious to be good; " Who made his ivory stands, with goblets shine, " And forced his guests to morning draughts of wine, " Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost, " And still he welcomes, but with less of cost. " The mean, suspicious wretch, whose bolted door ' ' Ne'er moved in duty to the wandering poor ; " With him I left the cup, to teach his mind " That Heaven can bless, if mortals will be kind. " Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, " And feels compassion touch his grateful soul. " Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, " With heaping coals of fire upon its head ; " In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, " And, loose from dross, the silver runs below. ,!» I 273 " Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, * But now the child half wean'd his heart from God ; * Child of his age, for him he lived in pain, ' And measured hack his steps to earth again. ' To what excesses had his dotage run ! 1 But God, to save the father, took the son. * To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, * And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow : ' The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust, * Now owns, in tears, the punishment was just. " But how had all his fortune felt a wrack, '• Had that false servant sped in safety back ; ** This night his treasured heaps he meant to steal, " And what a fund of charity would fail ! • " Thus Heaven instructs thy mind : this trial o'er, " Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more." — On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew, The Sage stood wondering as the Seraph flew. Thus look'd Elisha, when, to mount on high, His master took the chariot of the sky ; The fiery pomp ascending left the view ; The Prophet gazed, and wish'd to follow too. T 274 The bending Hermit here a prayer begun, — ' ' Lord ! as in heaven, on earth thy will be done."- Then, gladly turning, sought his ancient place, And pass'd a life of piety and peace. 275 No. XXXVIII. EDWIN OF THE GREEN. PARNELL. In Britain's isle, and Arthur's days, When midnight faeries daunced the maze, Lived Edwin of the Green ; Edwin, I wis, a gentle youth, Endow'd with courage, sense, and truth, Though badly shaped he'd been. His mountain back mote well be said To measure heighth against his head, And lift itself above : Yet spite of all that nature did To make his uncouth form forbid, This creature dared to love. T 2 276 He felt the charms of Edith's eyes, Nor wanted hope to gain the prize, Gould ladies look within ; But one Sir Topaz dress'd widi art, And, if a shape could win a heart, He had a shape to win. Edwin (if right I read my song,) With slighted passion paced along All in the moony light : 'Twas near an old enchaunted court, Where sportive faeries made resort, To revel out the night. His heart was drear, his hope was cross'd, 'Twas late, 'twas far, the path was lost That reach'd the neighbour-town ; With weary steps he quits the shades, Resolved, the darkling dome he treads, And drops his limbs adown. But scant he lays him on the floor, When hollow winds remove the door, And trembling rocks the ground : And (well 1 ween, to count aright,) At once an hundred tapers light On all the walls around. 277 Now sounding tongues assail his ear, Now sounding feet approachen near, And now the sounds increase; And, from the corner where he lay, He sees a train profusely gay Come prankling o'er the place. But (trust me, Gentles!) never yet Was dight a masking half so neat, Or half so rich before ; fhe country lent the sweet perfumes, The sea the pearl, the sky the plumes, The town its silken store. Now, whilst he gazed, a gallant dress'd In flaunting robes above the rest, With awful accent cried : — " What mortal of a wretched mind, M Whose sighs infect the balmy wind, " Has here presumed to hide?" — At this the swain, whose vent'rous soul No fears of magic art control, Advanced in open sight : — *' Nor have I cause of dread," he said, " Who view (by no presumption led,) " Your revels of the night. 278 •* 'Twas grief, for scorn of faithful love, 1 ' Which made my steps unweeting rove " Amid the nightly dew." — — " Tis well," the gallant cries again, " We faeries never injure men " Who dare to tell us true. " Exalt thy love-dejected heart, " Be mine the task, or ere we part, " To make thee grief resign; " Now take the pleasure of thy chaunce; 8 ' Whilst I with Mab, my partner, daunce, " Be Little Mable thine." — He spoke, and all a sudden there Light music floats in wanton air ; The Monarch leads the Queen : The rest their faerie partners found , And Mable trimly tript the ground With Edwin of the Green. The dauncing past, the board was laid, And siker such a feast was made As heart and lip desire ; Withouten hands the dishes fly, The glasses with a wish come nigh, And with a wish retire. 279 But now to please the Faerie King, v Full every deal they laugh and sing, And antick feats devise ; Some wind and tumble like an ape, And other some transmute their shape In Edwin's wondering eyes. Till one at last, that Robin hight, (Renown'd for pinching maids by night,) Has bent him up aloof; And full against the beam he flung, Where by the back the youth he hung, To spraul unneath the roof. From thence, — " Reverse my charm," he cries, ' ' And let it fairly now suffice, " The gambol has been shown." — But Oberon answers with a smile, — " Content thee, Edwin, for a while, " The vantage is thine own." — Here ended all the phantome play ; They smelt the fresh approach of day, And heard a cock to crow ; The whirling wind that bore the crowd Has clapp'd the door, and whistled loud, To warn them all to go. 280 Then screaming all at once, they fly, And all at once the tapers die ; Poor Edwin falls to floor ; Forlorn his state, and dark the place, Was never wight in sike a case, Through all the land before. But soon as Dan Apollo rose, Ful] jolly creature, home he goes, He feels his back the less ; His honest tongue and steady mind, Had rid him of the lump behind, Which made him want success. With lusty livelyhed he talks, He seems a dauncing as he walks ; His story soon took wind ; And beauteous Edith sees the youth, Endow'd with courage, sense, and truth, Without a bunch behind. The story told, Sir Topaz moved, (The youth of Edith erst approved,) To see the revel scene. At close of eve he leaves his home, And wends to find the ruin'd dome All on the gloomy plain. 281 As there he bides, it so befell, The wind came rustling down a dell, A shaking seized the wall : Up spring the tapers as before, The faeries bragly foot the floor, And music fills the hall. But certes sorely sunk with woe Sir Topaz sees the Elfin show, — His spirits in him die : When Oberon cries, — " a man is near, " A mortal passion, cleeped fear, " Hangs flagging in the sky." — With that Sir Topaz, (hapless youth!) In accents faultering, ay for ruth, Intreats them pity graunt ; For als he been a mister wight, Betray'd by wandering in the night, To tread the circled haunt ; — " Ah, Losell vile !" at once they roar, " And little skill'd of faerie lore, " Thy cause to come, we know : " Now has thy kestrell courage fell; " And Faeries, since a lie you tell, " Are free to work thee woe." — 282 Then Will, who bears the wispy fire To trail the swains among the mire, The caitive upward flung ; There, like a tortoise in a shop, He dangled from the chamber-top, Where whilome Edwin hung. The revel now proceeds apace, Deffly they frisk it o'er the place, They sit, they drink, and eat : The time with frolic mirth beguile, And poor Sir Topaz hangs the while, Till all the rout retreat. By this the stars began to wink, They shriek, they fly, the tapers sink, And down ydrops the Knight : For never spell by faerie laid With strong enchantment bound a glade, Beyond the length of night. 