A WEEK at a COTTAGE
a Pastoral Tale.
Gent: antiq:
LONDON Printed for
HAWES, CLARKE & COLLINS,
in Pater-noster-row.
MDCCLXXV
SUNDAY. OPENS the SCENE.
FOR ever sacred to TRANQUILLITY! —sweet rural scenes, where CONTEMPLATION sits, and meditates on God's benevolence!
RETIREMENT plaud the poets peaceful seat, with hands of grave HUMILITY, forbidding OSTENTATIONS steps, PRIDE'S arrogance, or fickle TASTE to tread her hallow'd bounds.
Hither!—O hither come, sweet social SCIENCE; leading on CONTENTMENT with countenance serene!—here hand in hand let MEDITATION walk with grave MORALITY—whilst IGNORANCE with contumelious look, averts her rustic foot, and tells an aukward tale to ENVY and her sister fiends, who minister in her unletter'd reign.
The varied scene of HUMAN LIFE, at once displays; on this hand, all the anxious grandeur of the GREAT, on that, sad INDIGENCES tears; from whence REFLECTION turns with a sigh, and by her just comparisons, disposes all my mind to GRATITUDE.—
—Hail MEDIOCRITY! thou blest estate, depart not from thy happy votary!— seated on the centre of PLEASURES wheel, safe from AMBITIONS giddy flights and POVERTY'S depression, thou ensures me PEACE.
For this RETREAT, I leave the busy Town, where TRAFFICK, with a brow beset with cares, and shoulders bending to the burthen, walks Adventures restless mazes and her labyrinths of Hope—on whose hard indefatigable heel, full often sullen DISAPPOINTMENT treads, whilst from her meagre visage she rubs the sickly sweat with rags disconsolate—or if attended by some better fate, perchance comes sportive LUCK in steps fantastick, and with prosperity rewards the Toils of TRADE: relieves INDUSTRY'S soul of doubtfulness, yet teints the jaundic'd eye with AVARICE, and gives another countenance to CARE.
Away, away ATTENTION! hither haste, to rove the Sylvan scene, the plain, the valley, and the grove: leave the dull haunts of mercenary men, and gains insatiable gaze, to court the smiles of rural INNOCENCE, and catch the living Virtues as they rise—peruse the flow'ry page of NATURE'S book, and reaping WISDOM with the arms of scientific pleasure, soar aloft, and breath thy adoration to the GOD OF ALL.
There stands the COTT, where fancy strays A WEEK, and gathers up the beauties of the scene.
On elevated ground erected, it commands extensive PROSPECTS, stretching every way: placed on the skirts of a small VILLAGE, where lofty Sycamores, with spreading boughs, dispense their shade around its tenements—beneath the leafy covert, oft at ease, the Peasant fits sagacious, musing on the ev'ning clouds, as weather-wise—there the rustic Damsel, loit'ring in the day-fall gloom, communes with tell-tale intimates; describing LOVE, so natural and naked, that each fond confidant, with sympathetic Sighs, salutes the well discover'd passion; whilst each stands wishing, panting, and on fire—there too at seasons, sits the Matron of the Village, whose wrinkled brow confesses Age, but yet denies severity: for as she bends her weaken'd sight, upon the polish'd needles whilst she knits, she courts facetious prattle from the Babes, who pull the pansies on the green; and smiles to hear them lisp their Granny's tale, and imitate her prayer.
Surrounded with a shadowy grove, the RUINS of an ABBY, lift their solemn fronts, and shew their bending arches—in the distracted pomp of wasting columns, tot'ring walls, and gasping windows, all the havoc of infatuated zeal, stands characteriz'd: whilst in widow-weeds of mantling Ivy, sage RELIGION sits, and mourns the desolation of her house, and the sad sins of her degenerate Sons.
There the Groves of R—k—by stretching round her park, o'ertop the wall—sweet scenes of Rural ease and Elegance—where G—A flying from the heathy mountains, precipitates her streams from rock to rock, 'till in the bosom of exulting T—s, the river Nymph resigns her auburn tresses, and nutbrown charms, in murmurs o
soft extacy and Love—high hanging woods repeat the sounds, mix'd with the plaintive voice of amorous Doves who coo their tale of jealousy for every absent mate—
—Here Nature with dignity sublime, excells the works of Art, and forms a solemn walk, where massive rocks, with august Columns prop the oaken grove, that hangs upon their tow'ring Cliffs— the far projecting trees, spread wide their boughs, and give a leafy Canopy▪ umbriferous; forming a scene, whe
where WISDOM would delight to contemplate, where MEDITATION met with PIETY, would hold their holy converse; and sage PHILOSOPHY would sit unseen, to study Nature—once made the haunt of sad DISSATISFACTIONS gloomy steps, where MELANCHOLY measured out her pensively reiterated Walk—there unredeeming R—k—by often stray'd, to meditate on the forlorn fate of his paternal Lands—there too projecting R—b—n hath sat, to see his sweet Demesnes, from his unfeeling genius, transform'd to Stone; to plan the proud devouring Edifice, which swallow'd up these fertile fields, and all this paradise —now M—TT is thy Lord, whose elegance of Taste, is with the zone of PRUDENCE girt, and whose provident sagacity engrafts DESCRETION on his PLEASURES.
Near to thy streams O G—A, once the Praefect lay of fam'd SOLENCES, and the plain was burthen'd with a Roman Host—oft in thy waters have the Heroes laved their valarous Limbs, and oft along thy channel stray'd, delighted with fertility—here too the Altar blaz'd to festive CERES, and the Grove resounded with the rights of PAN—
—to them another Host succeeded, usurp'd their Lustrals and their Altars, and pitch'd their Tent on M—R—NS plains; to foster foreign Piety in these rich Lands—the fair Exotic ask'd for happy vales, where Nature lavish'd her luxuriancy: the mountain and the rock, where in the days of Yore, the Sage had sought the presence of his God, the gloomy Forest, and the dark damp Cave, were not befitted to her soft Italian Constitution.
Too long my Pen, dwells on thy scenes OR—K—BY, whilst other objects wait my Muse—where T—PE in rural opulence surmounts the Hill, and to the Eastern sun extends its golden meads.—
—beneath whose feet, deep in the silent and sequester'd Dale, a friend to Science lives, a letter'd Sage; devoted to Tranquillity and sacred Truth: where pious W—K—FF, once convers'd with God.
Wide spreading Groves, and deep embow'ring shades, wrap up in solemn stillness T—L'S Mansion—where the discontented Genius of the Glades, sits sighing for the absence of her Lord; who from her haunts, estranges science and Philosophy, the Muses and the Graces; and carries them as Captives, far from his long deserted Lands.
Those lines of dusky Pines, which mark D—N—'S rich Demesnes, shut up the prospect.
There, thro' an Arch of Boughs, the elevated Fane of K—Y strikes the eye, and gives its sacred Tower, to form a noble distant Obelisk.—
—And here, the woody banks of B-R-G-M, are bent up to the mountains brow; where M—K still inherits the Patrician Virtues, and marks the ways of Life with such benevolence, as purchas'd for his Ancestors, immortal Love.—
—Still nearer lie the Lands of E—N where cultivation with a comely countenance, sits smiling in its youth; and makes abash'd the neighbouring hills; where Nature sleeps in native russet, wrap'd in indolence and barrenness— where H—E forlorn, creeps from the gloomy mountains side, and hides its clay-built Cottages—from whence a winding way is mark'd aloft, ascending to the summit of the steep; conducting to the golden regions and the Mines of Patriotic T—R, and Paternal S—, whose knees benevolent, are crowded with his Childrens Children.
The SOUTHERN PROSPECT calls for my Attention.—
—the nearest object is the TOWN OF B—, where on the hanging steep, the streets extend, and pour their Thousands forth.—
—There on the Cliff a ruin'd CASTLE stands, and frowns, impending o'er the foaming streams, where T—s precipitates his noisy floods, and drives his frighted Neiades from the scene of Horror—ghastly and wild the disconcerted Walls stand sullenly, and brave the wrath of Time—gloomy and dark their aspect, as the Age, in which the Scottish founder form'd his Plan, and labour'd up these Bulwarks, and this mass of stone —the work of Vassalage—once the seat of Slavery and arbitrary sway—in after Ages, made the holds of curs'd Rebellion and a thousand Crimes—now left the monument of Tyranny expir'd, and great in Ruins, tells the Age of Liberty restor'd—become an object now fo
PLEASURES Eye, augustly reverent, thy Ivy mantled arches, shatter'd walls and rifted Towers, thy nodding Battlements, now domineer not, but adorn the Place.—
—Rich in Meadows, with hangin
Woods and scenes of Pleasure girt,
B—, thou art highly favour'd of the hand of Providence, and yet ungracious and unhappy—declining TRADE sits sighing in thy streets, and lean INDUSTRY,
angs languishing upon her Loom—forsaken of thy PATRON, an outcast of thy LORD, a Prodigal, yet to thy father's house a Stranger—the joys of LEARNING beam not on thy bosom, where yet the SOCIAL VERTUES never dwelt—where feign'd COMPASSION prostitutes the Countenance divine, to many a slanderous Tale, and trim'd in mask of PITY MALICE walks—where MUTUAL FRIENDSHIPS yet remain unknown, and ENVY poisons every breath of young BENEVOLENCE—how graceful are the Labours of the few, who struggle by example to envigorate the fainting VIRTUES— where H—K, for fraternal Love and filial Piety rever'd, teacheth the delights of doing good.
Beyond the Town, on rising ground, the mansion of the Sons of ISRAEL stands; commanding to the East, a vary'd Prospect, full of Beauties—Woods which deck the Rivers banks—bright broad Canals and flow'ry Vales, o'ertop'd by HAMILTON'S high sky ting'd hills—thy Lord excells in his Paternal Duty and hospitable Board, famed for the Chastity of each excentric Toast, that flows superior to his Military habits.—
Adjoining, on a grassy brow, a Church is seen, whose humble architecture, (not debasing divine Worship,) retains this Christian maxim, that pure RELIGION, dwells in Simplicity—the gawdy robe, the gilded fane, are ostentations own, in which Hypocrisy is seen to sit— PRIDE is religions profanation, and arrogance in her Priests is Blasphemy—the Villagers crowd the Tombstones, and thoughtless o'er the dead, their rustic Jests propound, or Love-tales whisper; till THE HOLY MAN, in Robes of White, Religions Emblem, and the Type of Innocence, convokes the giddy Herd, and with his doctrines, lulls them to repose— —beneath the Hill, the hasty river falls in hoarse cascades, and as it laves the sounding shores, yields a loud plaudit to its bounteous Author; whilst the leaping floods, exulting clap their Hands— all on the verdant steep, the green turf marks the Peasant's grave, where many an honest heart has fled from woe, and yielding up the spirit to its God, sleeps in a Mother's lap serene—there in the verdant mantle, many a Maid hath wrap'd her Cares, hath hush'd her wishes for the world, and given an Angel to the Skies.
On the gently rising hills behind, the Hamlets stand, diversifying the extended Prospect—there B—N scatters out her Cottages, crouching beneath the smoak of burning Lime, that clouds the sultry Sun, with its expanding volumes—and here the dusty road leads up to B—S, beat by the feet of Travellers, and at the instant of my observation, crowded with Cattle, and a flock of Sheep, which, from the washpool bleat, and shake their stripping Fleeces—B—S once of Roman fame, lifts up her ruin'd Tower in frowns, and mocks the ST—MORE Storm where CAESAR'S Tungrian Troops in garrison in antient times secur'd the important pass.
To the right, sweet D—
DALE picturesque and fanciful, presents her Landscape—a bending arch yields to the T—
her gurgling rills, whose utmost might maintains the Mill, which clacks he
humble Honors—above, the beaten roa
appears, winding by hedge-row Elms where many a Peasant, to the drea
Moors, his languid Steps directs—th
nodding woods, on hanging steeps, the
Oaken branches play, along the windin
dell; whose little plains and sparkling Pools peep thro' the Trees, and give variety to sport with rural rude Simplicity —the elevated ground which terminates the View, rises in rocks, that lift their storm bleach'd Countenance, from out the fringes of the Brushwood, and support some Shepherds Huts; under whose Brow, which battles with the blust'ring North, sits R—N—T; where Cultivation kisses the extremest skirts of barren B—S, and mocks her Indolence with growing Corn.
The western View courts my description,—where just beneath this seat, the T—S expands his shining bosom to the day, and in one long extended Lake, reflects the waving Woods, and flow'ry Meads, which make his margin gay— a little further L—N attempts to hide her humble Village with her Trees; except where M—S old hospitable Mansion stands, divested of the Insignia of its woe, forbearing now to mourn for her departed Lord, bless'd in the Virtue of his Heir.—
—There L—E, from the bank of B—R peeps, the outside shew o
an imperfect plan.
—Beneath whose foot, calm C—R—
extends her stretching Village through the flow'ry Meads, abounding like the and of Promise, with the flowing wealth of Milk and Honey.—
—At the conflux of the Rivers, on a Rocky eminence, the Ruins of FITZ HENRY'S CASTLE stand, assuming still
he sullen frown of Feudal Tyranny; a mimikry of antient insolence and sway, unhallow'd as the Templars arms which girt her arbitrary Lord.
Far as the Eye can reach, up B—R'S dreary dale, the sable Huts of H—N—R—TE are scatter'd, skirting the Desart; descriptive to the view, of CAIN'S sad Camp within the Land of Nod, exil'd of Eden, and accurs'd of Heaven.
Deep in the Vale lies moping R—K, which like DESPONDENCY retires to gloomy walks and secret shades, to ruminate upon her unpropitious History— yet there A MAN resides, who, with a Taste refin'd, a Mind that's polish'd with the polite Arts, and disciplin'd in Erudition's School, neglects the gayest scene; of Human life, and MEDITATION courts, in these her most sequester'd haunts; his daily pleasure to instruct Mankind, that SACRED RULES and SOCIAL VIRTUES are the same.
Beneath yon mountain's Brow, stands E—N, and spreads her white front to the Western Sun: under whose foot, flows long-lamenting T—S; in murmurs mourning for his PRINCE deceas'd—over whose Tomb attir'd in HONOURS garb, in Tears A BROTHER stands, inscribes his Urn with Characters of Love, and saves his Memory.
Northward I turn, and o'er the Pasture Land, where crowds of Cattle crown the Hill, and court the Breeze, stands W—Z on her woody Banks; whilst all
ove are seen the Royal chace of M—D and her Parks: whose gracious PRINCE hath dignifi'd his Titles, by great Examples, that alone in VIRTUE true NOBILITY consists.
Delightful scenes, where Nature with a lavish Hand diffuses all her Beauties.
The LITTLE COTT which now invite my Muse, with humble charms abounded—calm TEMPERANCE and CLEANLINESS had made it pleasing.—
—Within its walls a bending MATRO
took her abode, and cherish'd in he
bosom one fair blossom, AN ONLY DAUGHTER—in this retirement long had sh
been hid, and on a scanty income liv'd content, with strict frugality—her Daughter had attain'd her seventeenth year, and now she sat attentive to the History of her Progenitors.
MONDAY
Reveals our
HEROINE'S
Birth.
STRICKEN in years, the MATROS sat bending on her Couch—the sable Crape, and Widow-weeds which cloathed her, were adorn'd with Linne
white as snow—her face, (on which BENEVOLENCE was dress'd with BEAUT
IN DECAY,) shone with a Grace divine— soft silver Hairs hung on her elevated brow,—and SENSIBILITY was in her looks, mixing with fond AFFECTION, as she gaz'd upon her Daughter—one hand extended, lean'd upon her staff; the other press'd her bosom as she spake.
My MARIANNE, 'tis time that thou shouldst know, from whence thou sprang; and what thy Fortune is— MY ANCESTORS were Men of little note for Pedigree, or Opulence; but HONESTY had mark'd them for her own;—humble in Station, with Humility they smooth'd the days of Life—as useful members of community, they liv'd beloved, and
mented died.
—
—
thy FATHER, was a man of b
ter birth, the eldest son of an exal
Family—his VALOUR was well try'd
his LOYALTY was warm and HON
without stain.—the good man's yo
was flatter'd by the smiles of fi
Fortune—but, alas! his Parent w
imprudent, and in his follies, ow
whelm'd as fair a Race, as ever ble
a father.
—
—
DISTRESS, which to m
minds brings on DESPAIR, serv'd o
ly to exhilirate the genius and s
vour of thy father—WORTHIN
is seldom bless'd with WORLDLY HONOURS!—for so corrupt are COURTS, that manly MERIT, when it comes suspended on the arm of POVERTY, is turn'd aside abash'd; and gives its place to Babylooks of TITLE, and the insolence of INTEREST.
—
—"the fate of thy dear FATHER— —
long ling'ring Wars he serv'd, cruel Campaigns, drear Voyages, and many a bloody Seige—whilst I, the choice of his affection, hapless left at home, pass'd on a Life of Languishment and Love—my soul was full of his indelible dear Image—regard possess'd my Bosom with its purest fervour; and whilst my thoughts were ever with my Lord, they were ever fill'd with doubts of Danger, and with fears forlorn.—how could I, MARIANNE, but dread the Tale of battles and of slaughter, when he I lov'd
my soul's sole Lord, all that was dear on Earth, was braving the attack?— —FANCY went forth, and dipp'd her wings in Blood; FANCY return'd, and laved her plumes with Tears.—Imaginations visionary scenes, were all display'd, I heard the dire confusion of fire Arms, I saw the gleam of Swords unsheath'd by the advancing Cavalry; I heard the Ordonance, and thought Battalions fell to the tremendous battery; I saw the rushing Phalanx, with the Bionet, breaking down ranks, and bearing Victory before them—horror beset me at the shouts of Victory—and coldness crept upon my nerves, when ever I bethought me of the wounded—of the Conquer'd— of the slain.
—
—
Oh! what could Love, Oh! what could such affection as my soul possess'd, under such circumstances, but lament, and languish out in sighs, the dismal seasons of my Solitude?— day after day, REFLECTION sate associate with DESPONDENCY—night after night, my Tears bedew'd my Bed
sacred to LOVE, to INNOCENCE to VIRTUE—dear scene of mutual Happiness felicity as delicate as true affections vows, and yet as passionate—on the dear sacred Couch I still repose, an
wait, resign'd, the will of fate—'t
there—my Tears are spent upon thee— Tears thy daily tribute—there MARIANNE—'tis there——There lay the best of MEN!—
She ceas'd her Tale, to shed a Tear and with her, MARIANNE wept.
Kind fortune call'd thy Father home safe and in health he came—his brow was sunburnt and entwin'd with Laurels.—Yet what is HONOUR, but an empty title!—for he return'd, yet UNPROMOTED, and yet POOR—my little portion just maintain'd me; his pay preserv'd him from the hand of Hunger; but to his steps succeeded NECESSITY'S numerous retinue.
—
—
A twelvemonth's stay at home, gave me for Life a comforter—Thou wert the issue of that blessed intercourse- a twelvemonth ended call'd him forth to War, and to my widow'd Arms restor'd old anxious TRIBULATION and DISMAY.—Alas! the misery of parting Lovers, lives upon my Mind
Love grown into Life—entwisted w
the heart-strings—Soul of each othe
Soul—blessed union of mutual min
and wedded bosoms—I feel his sad
dieu stamp'd on my acking heart
I see his noble Image in my lively
collection—a Man in figure, portly
great in Spirit—feeling and humane stately he stood, and braved in sen
ment, the accidents of Life; but p
ful and tender on his wife he gaze and what he suffer'd, Oh! he suffer
in compassion of my Woe.—O MA
ANNE, thou wert in my arms—t
eyes just taught to look with love u
on thy Father—thy innocence in smiles, making distress more exquisite, as thy first smiles were spent on sorrow—thy looks, appear'd to claim protection from above; as God delights in Cherubs—Affliction stood upon our countenances—our tongues were silent, for the Woe was inexpressible— the good AMINTOR sigh'd—Oh! the energy of such a sigh!—he drop'd his Arms from the embrace—and tears
od in his parting Eyes.
—
Deep drawn sighs, obstructed the Widow's
narrative—and MARIANNE sate
rowing at the picture of her Parent.
Thy pratling tongue soon learnt lisp the name of Father—my ears
joicing at the voice, have tingled w
delight—and yet for years past—
years!—that Name, repeated from
same Tongue, has tortured eve
thought, and wrench'd my ack
heart
—
—
for, Oh! my MARIANNE,
two short years were past, the drea
news was heard, of the Battalions verthrow, in which thy Father serv'd▪
—
sent on a forlorn hope, on drea
ful passes, under the horrid rage
thund'ring Batteries, and showers shot; the blood of Britain stream'd, satiate the zeal of some mad General, who glow'd for that dishonest HONOUR, which is purchased by the certain Massacre of Thousands
—
—all language ceases, when such woe demands description—the feelings of the Heart, the sorrows of the soul, alone can comprehend it.
But from this state of wretchedness, some little time reliev'd me; for I heard AMINTOR yet surviv'd
—
—
but wounded—render'd incapable of further service—returning home, with HALF HIS PAY!
O PATRIOTS blush!—blush PRINCES —BRITONS blush!—Military pride, sibling fame, and baubling Honour, len
an Ear!—the voice of TRUTH repeat your INFAMY, and tells your SHAME!
Full of a thousand Labours a
Distresses, AMINTOR'S youth and co
stitution were expended in the se
vice of his Country.—Valour and H
nour could not be purchasers of
PROMOTION—promotion was procur
by favourites only—a scanty pay s
tain'd him many years, just on
verge of bare necessity—and when
fit for service—wounded—bleeding his King—in anguish for his country's cause, pouring out Life in Tribulation —with redoubled wants, the lost AMINTOR was sent home, with a piteous portion, to languish out existence— one consolation yet was left me, that the little mite entrusted to my hands, thro' my Industry and care, remain'd still unreduced.
I watch'd his coming steps, and form'd a thousand projects in my mind,
ow we should try to better our small
come—my wishing bosom heav'd to
reet his last return, and with affection to console his Sorrows and his pains—wearisomely I watch'd—a pleasing messenger foretold his approach—no Letter stamp'd with ch
racters of Love, described his suffe
ings, or promulg'd his wishes— anxious hope, I waited yet for ma
months, e'er he arriv'd.
As sighing, at my needle work sate, behold, the dear beloved Impassing by, alarm'd my sight.
—
—with agitated heart, I ran to g
his coming—I beheld his face retai
AMINTOR'S countenance, but it
pale and spiritless—I hasted to rece
his lov'd Embrace—I stretch'd my Arms and fell upon his bosom.
—
—My bosom was alarm'd, my raptures were suspended, when unsupported on the breast I lov'd, I sunk and dropt upon the floor
—
—
doubting the affection of my Husband, I shrunk back to view the man, and trace my misfortune in his looks; if there discovery was written, to teach me what he thought.
—
—
thy Father MARIANNE, had sunk upon a knee, to bend himself towards
e—and to my tortur'd sight display'd, the cause why my Embrace was unreturn'd
—
—
for, Oh! my Daughter! h
right arm extended, shew'd a miserable Limb, without a hand; whic
mock'd his wishes to enclasp me—an
his left side, was totally bereft
Hand and Arm.
Then from her breast she drew the Picture of AMINTOR, and kissing it, delivered it to MARIANNE—crying,
Ho
changed was this sacred Image!—Alas! then how unlike to this dear Portrait, which I wear upon my bosom within my heart a still more delicat
resemblance is retain'd!
—
—Poor MARIANNE, with trembling
nd, on bended knee, receiv'd the Por
it; and looking on it with devotion,
pt.
After some moments, amidst interrup
sobs, the Matron thus continued.— —"Oh! horror not to be described! poor maim'd Trunk!—by one accursed shot, bereft of those two members, and bereft of help!
A miserable silence, for some time pos
s'd the scene.—
—
I on my knees, with extended arms, shrinking back from sights of woe; which touch'd compassions finest feelings, and gave acutest horror— he still silent, with tearfill'd ey
and grief too great for Words, di
playing to my Pity and my Love
mangled figure
—
—
Hopeless sorrows, are the occ
pation of weaker Minds—AMINT
taught me to desist from Lamentatio
when all remedy and all redress past away—we study'd to acco
modate our minds to our conditio
and with our little pittance, to ens
to Life, as many consolations, as
within our compass—we chang'd o
dwelling to a country spot, and for
our frugal Plan
—
—
but there, alas! it was
long, e'er the dear Man, with constitution harrass'd by his Toils, maim'd and helpless, languid and forlorn, departed hence; and in the realms of HEAVEN, sought for rewards, which VIRTUE is deny'd amongst degenerate Men.
Thy Mother then a Widow—Thou an Infant, just advanc'd to four years old—our All but little—little more than one poor hundred Pounds.—I quitted that abode, and hither fled, where no one knew my sorrows— where the dear name, and sad adversities of my AMINTOR never were rehears'd —here have I brought thee up, and by Industry earn'd our sustenance, without reducing this thy little Portion, which I have never dared intru
beyond my reach.
—
—
Oh! MARIANNE, little can't thou comprehend, what sorrows I su
tain'd, when on the Bed of languishment he laid—the dear beloved Manthen dearer to me in his helpless sta
as exercising both my Love and care
he once was amiable for his Person
his Virtues—then were his Virtues le
as monumental distichs, to rehear
what the poor Martyr was.
—
—
Could soft affections Eye, be touch'd with more afflicting fights, than to behold the HERO (who amidst terrors, had despis'd the threats of Death, advancing in multitudes of dangers, horrible as various) to see the man who brav'd the slaughter of the Field of Battle, in whose soul the ardour of HONOUR, kindled up intripid Courage and despite of wounds sitting the mangled Image of a Man, and like a child submitting to be fed. —So the aspiring Pine on Mountains
brow, which scorn'd the storms of Ages, smote by Lightning, yields its shatter'd Arms, and shews its cloven mutilated Trunk, a spectacle of Terror to the Plains around.
As he declin'd, his wants increas'd —his diet and his drink must be made Cordial—expences grew, as he sunk down, and oft in Tears I sat, an
hoped the affluent would learn his Woes, and kind Compassion com
and cheer his drooping soul—bu
AFFLUENCE besotted with its self enjoyment, was absorb'd in sad insens
bility—COMPASSION was detain'd i
Heaven—and CONSOLATION was wit
God—the minist'ring Angel, w
receiv'd his soul, let fall a Tear; and from before mankind his miseries expung'd; that suffering VIRTUE might no longer weep, in sorrows Vale, but waft her way to Heaven.
TUESDAY
Brings on the
SUBJECT
of the
TALE
RISING Morn had open'd th
eastern Gates of Heaven, an
glowing clouds confess'd the comi
Sun.—Aurora with a modest Blust and looks averted from connubial rite call'd forth the God of day, who linger on the couch of Thetis—the Birds
waked soft melody in every Grove—
Cuckow rousing from his summer-dream,
mmer'd his inebriated Song.
Early as sun rise, sighing, MARIANNE
lk'd forth to breath the morning Air,
d meditate upon the mournful Tale,
r Mother yesterday related.
Led by the Muse, I visit the Events
ich TUESDAY brings.
The sun beems play upon the CO
GE windows—the swallow chirms up
the Chimney-top—the Cock assiduous,
ws the morning watch—Ducks wad
to the Brook—and in the pasture, play the sportive Lambs, amidst the gold cups spangled with the dew—
—beneath yon hanging grove, a litt
Plain, secludes her solitary scene fro
public eye; and wraps itself in stilln
—there the Brook throng'd with be
ing Willows, creeps along the curli
Pool, and hushes all the tumult of t
streams, which at some little dista
rush'd their murmuring Waters o
rocks, and foam'd among retarding F
bles—fast by the Waters brink, antient Elm, of form grotesque knotty, spreads its crooked Arms, y
ing a shade over the broken grou
whose sliding banks, whilst shrinking
e Brook, leave grassy edges, to invite
pose, upon their easy seats—there
t my Muse presents to me the Image MARIANNE—there first reveals the
ces of the Maid, whose Story claims
Sylvan Reed, and tunes it to MEL
MENE and LOVE—
—there MARIANNE sat—in Sta
e tall, and straight as Rushes of the
ulet—clad in Russet, her beauty
confusion to the Pride of Ornament
er arms like alabaster, display'd their
teness with a delicate proportion; her
k was lofty, and a hat of straw sha
'd her Countenance, where MODESTY sat trimming WISDOM with the ve
of DIFFIDENCE.—
—With clasping hands, she sat
meditate her humble Lot, and sigh'd fo
the adversity which overwhelm'd her father.—She ruminated on the peacess hours of rural Life, with unambitio
Mind; and bless'd with CONTENTMEN
she call'd it HAPPINESS—
—within her breast, young Lov
had learnt to sport with INNOCENCE; an
HOPE, by the flatterings of Fancy, ha
entangled her desires—she wish'd not
be greater, for her humble Passion h
its birth without AMBITION—there w
YOUTH, on whom her Virgin Wishes rested, a SHEPHERD.
As on the Image of her Love, she
ent a rapturous thought; with eyes
st up to Heaven, her pure desires breath'd into a Prayer.—It was then, that she reveal'd her Face, where beauty, such as adorn'd Eden's Eve, shone forth
MARIANNE—her Eyes of blue, were
eek and languishing; her brow was e
vated, and adorn'd with pale brown
ir; her cheeks were ting'd with blush
, like roses scatter'd upon snow; her
ps were glowing with full tides of Health, and in attention separated, shew'
her Teeth of Ivory—
—FAIR FLOWER, the bosom of RETIREMENT dressing!—sweet as the spring tide Hawthorn Blossom, trimming MAIA'S chaplet, as she walks the Dale!—fair
the wild Rose on the rivers brink, tha
brightens her attire, by the reflection o
the shining stream!—humble and chas
as yonder pretty stem of Lilly-of-the Vale, that in its verdant mantle hides i
charms, contented with its purity and Peace!—Such was FAIR MARIANNE.
Her Mother bending on her Staff, forsakes the COTTAGE, to salute her Daughter, and see the Linen bleach which
read the green—the Matron soon per
eiv'd, some new anxiety sat on her Mai
a's looks, and fear'd the Tale of their
alamities, had born too hard upon her
ind—thus she assays to comfort her—
—
My MARIANNE, forbear to cherish sorrows—Lamentation is in vain, when Remedy is gone—the fittest duties of the Mind, are to enumerate the consolations which are left us—to weigh the blessings which we taste, to estimate the good things we enjoy, compare them with the fortunes of the many who experience greater ills than we; and then in gratitude, give praises to the God of Heaven, who ye
preserveth us from worse estate—th
way of HAPPINESS leads not on stee
asse
ts, trod by AMBITION and INORDINATE DESIRE—no—she hath made her passes in the deep sequester'd Val
of still CONTENT—all that I wish
to secure my MARIANNE, and in he
happy marriage, harbour the Bark, i
which my treasure is laid up; in which my care for ever sails, and seeks the hop'd for shore—but perils wait the Voyage.— LOVE, like the Ocean, is
inconstant scene; for now it tempt
with smoothness and with smiles, and you would think, that PLEASUR
play'd upon its shining bosom, with SECURITY—but soon the sun-reflecting Plain, is curl'd by rising Breezes; up the billows heave, and swell as bosoms panting with their passion—rougher it rises, till the leaping surge, confounds its waters with the clouds, the winds with ruffled wings dash on the Tide, and stir the direful tumult up to Tempest—the little FEMALE BARK that launch'd from shore, with only INNOCENCE on board, plays thoughtless on the pleasurable Mirror, and sees but INNOCENCE in its reflection—but when the Ocean troubled with the Wind, his countenance deforms, confounded, she perceives that her ret
is render'd impossible, without
Rudder of EXPERIENCE; without SU
PICIONS Mariners to hand the S
without the Oars of RESOLUTION
struggle with the Tempest, with
PRUDENCE, and without PERSPICU
to guide the Helm; with only P
on board, who calls on CHASTITY
go to Prayers—the Vessel fills wi
floods tremendous, and immersing
for ever lost—LOVE is insidious—the passion first advances with soft insinuating Joys—the Eyes delight to gaze— the ear is charm'd with sweet professions, corresponding with the hearer
wish, and what the sympathetic Lover feels—the clasping hand receives the mutual grasp—advancing wishes, rising on a growing intimacies soft gradations, at length break the bounds of Modesty's reluctance, and glowing kisses kindle feverish raptures—each Breast beats with impatient throbs—Eyes in their humid gaze, grow languid—and Passion soon advances beyond the barriers of PRUDENCE—what we wish to credit we confide in—and INNOCENCE as void of Suspicion as of Guile, lays all abroad for TREACHERY and TREASON.
As thus the Matron spake, fair MARIANNE, placing her clasp'd hands upon her knees, with unshifting gaze, kept her Eyes upon her Mother; whilst her tears in trickling showers fell fast—
she ceas'd, thus the sweet Maid reply'd—
The tender Care, and parental love of my dear Mother, command my Duty and Gratitude—my bosom knows no thought, my Mother ought not to know—my soul can breath no wish, you should not govern—do you suspect your daughter of Imprudence?—alas! my Mother, have I disobey'd?—I do confess—dear EMMA, I admit.
—
—
What doth my Child intend to say?
—
—
Whilst you describ'd the dangers of the Passion, I trembled for myself—indeed my Mother—nay, let not anger grow into your loving looks—let not a thought of condemnation touch your mind, or wrestle with affection—your MARIANNE hath not a sentiment unworthy of her Mother's Ear.
—
—"You keep me in suspence," EMMA interrepts,
whilst doubt and apprehension raise their visionary terrors —spare a Parents fears.
—
—
Oh! blessed Matron, do I give you pain?—let it be increased a thousand times on me, could I but save my Mother's anguish!—If your belov'd MARIANNE hath listen'd to the tale of Love—alas! I see the frown is gathering on your brow, and I have err'd.
—
—
With confidence, my child, reveal the Story of thy Passion—my experience may conduct thee in the Labyrinth, and lead thee safely to the paths of Honour.
—
—
My Passion, (said the fair one with a blush) do you suspect your Child of such imprudence as to have yielded up her heart to passions, without a Mother's knowledge?—when I examine into all my Mind, I think myself as free as ever—but some how, I perceive a sigh steals from my breast, and tells me that I am not easy, and yet I feel no pain—a tender anxiety sits on my thoughts—sometimes I wish I were in these retirements, and when I am here, I wish I were away—a listlesness hangs on me, I know not how, that gives me little rest; and yet it is a kind of melancholy pleasure.
—
—
Tell me, my MARIANNE, from whence these new sensations come.
—
—
My heart is open to my Mother's Eye—Concealment is not known within my soul—you know the gay OLISSUS, the lord of yonder rich Demesnes —he talk'd to me of LOVE—and with a graceful person, flow'ry Tongue, and strange humility of tenderness, discover'd to me first the Character of a LOVER; for indeed I had not form'd the least Idea what a Lover meant.
—
—"And what ensued my Girl?" the Matron hastily reply'd, for to her bosom, glowing with wishes for her Daughter's welfare, AMBITION had insinuated its delusive visions.
On his pursuit of Pleasure, here he stray'd—his Dogs were in the Thicket after game—he bearing on his Arm a Gun, surprized me at my Work— then it was I first beheld OLISSUS— he seem'd to eye me with a fond attention—abash'd to beat the looks of this rich man, I blush'd and walk'd away—he follow'd me, and ask'd my Name, and where I dwelt, and who belong'd I to—never asham'd to own my Habitation, or my dear Mother, I reply'd with Truth; and shew'd him where our COTTAGE stood, and talk'd of you—he look'd upon me stedfastly, and smil'd, as if I pleas'd him with my sincerity—your speech, says he, distinguishes you are not a Native of this Dale; your Manners tell me you are better bred—he seiz'd my hand— I trembled—observing my confusion, h
bow'd and left me
—
—
I never thought of the ever for many days, till again I saw OLISSUS coming towards me in the Grove where I sat to shelter me from Noo
tide heat—when he approach'd, beheld the character of benevolen
imprinted on his looks; his eyes we
flashing with good humour—I attempted to arise, but he prevented me, ar
sat down by my side—with a degree of fervor which I never had perceiv'd i
any man, he talk'd to me of Love, assur'd me that his soul was languishing, and all his Happiness depend
on my smiles.—I wonder'd at his words, and grew afraid—his face began to glow like the Countenance of a Man in Wrath, his lips were trembling, and his eyes grew piercing— then seizing my hand, he grasp'd me passionately — I shrunk away—with soft persuasion and the gentlest accents, he still'd my apprehension—as I grew bolder, he grew bolder too—he cast one Arm about my waist, and kiss'd my cheek—I thought his lips were burning—he sigh'd and seem'd uneasy —I was abash'd—Confusion grew upon me—I was overwhelm'd with shame, and yet I gain'd recollection sufficient to enable me to reprove him for his boldness—you kill me with your frown, says he—you make me tremble Sir,—indeed I am much asham'd and terrified—your blushes set my bosom in a blaze, your eyes dissolve my soul, says he, and press a
himself upon me—I bent back and shun'd his Kisses.—I tumbled on the Green.
—
—"Alas, my MARIANNE," the Matron cries.—
Then unbounded in his Kisses, he planted them upon my Bosom—his hands were wand'ring over my Neck —I was flutter'd, distress'd, and out of breath—he saw my Misery—Oh! my Mother, the remembrance agitates me grievously—for giddy with the strange unusual freedom and my fright, I was ready to expire within his Arms —when he perceiving my Distress and weak Estate, seiz'd the occasion,
— he paus'd—
—With eyes and hands directed up to
eaven, the Matron sat mute—
—Again she breaks the awful, tho'
omentary silence,
At that instant he display'd himself in the most amiable Character—he arose, and bending towards me, took my trembling hand, and rais'd me—He seem'd to pity me —how godlike was his figure in h
Pity—the expressions of Charity and Benevolence were stamp'd upon h
features—a gracious greatness sho
upon his Countenance, and like the saving Angel he appear'd, who le
the broken-hearted HAGAR'S fainting steps, to streams of water in the W
derness—your Images of Love, str
my mind with the just similitude o
my mishap, and brought your co
demnations home upon my own imprudence—for 'till the strange event was past, I never conceiv'd the danger I was exposed to, or weighed the wi
disparities of fortune, the inequalities between us—I thought he utter'd truths, and entertaining no impulse of guile, I doubted no deceit—but since that time, dear Mother, I have trembled at the recollection of myself —for I have heard say, that Man is often base, and can dissemble and counterfeit the Passions of a Lover—can vow such Vows, and tell such Tales, as cheat poor Innocents—can like the barbarous Man who slays a Lamb, divest himself of all Humanity, possess the Virgins moment of distress, and whilst she places all her virtuous confidence and holy faith upon delusive promises; and whilst he plants the rapturous kiss, to seal the lips which breath her Innocence, his heart is harbouring the worst of wishes, and the Maiden is lost in Wiles— alas! my Mother,—I tremble at the precipice, on which I trod.
—
The Matron shook her head and sigh'd —
and yet thou art not from that precipice escap'd—within thy bosom lurks the Traitor, that will yield thee back into OLISSUS' Arms.
The affrighted MARIANNE dropt upon her knee, and holding forth her hands, beseech'd her Mother to discover the insiduous sentiment, which threat'ned to
ndo her.
What was that listlesness, my MA
IANNE, of which you talk'd, that gave you little rest, yet seem'd to be a melancholy pleasure?
OLISSUS name," replies the Maid, has no connection with those sentiments—of him or his professions I have never thought, but with a blush —no tenderness of mind is due to him —if Love is known by such sensations, as I heretofore spoke of, that Love belongs not to OLISSUS—no; another claims my sighs.
—
The Matron's silence, gave liberty to MARIANNE to tell her Tale.
Some months since, when winter cloath'd the ground with snow, I went to visit my poor Lamb, which went with neighbour SYMKINS Flock upon the Fell—the pretty Animal was given to me by ALCIRIS, CYMON'S son—its mother, dear creature, dy'd, soon after it was born, and then the little Orphan wanting sustenance, was trusted to my tenderness and Care—with great compassion I beheld its desolate Estate, helpless and harmless—in its looks were soft distresses written, and in languid eye express'd dejected Innocence, its cries were pitiful complainings, and my compassion succeeded to its moan.—I fed it with my hands, I made its couch of Wool; I heard its calls of hunger, and I tended it with tenderness—the pretty female grew in strength—as if its little heart was moved with gratitude, it follow'd to my call, and lifted up its face to court my looks; its Countenance express'd the pleasures of its mind, whilst on its curling wool I stroak'd my hand— grown older, in my walks it walk'd; and whilst I sat, it crop'd the blades of grass, play'd round my seat, and when some length of time elaps'd without my calling on its name, it came and bleated in my face, and seem'd to court continuance of my care, or seem'd to fear I had neglected her— these were pretty tricks which won my heart, and of its innocence and sweetness, sure I was enamour'd—for I lov'd the Lamb, as now I seem to love a Swain, whom may the Heavens be pleas'd, my Mother may approve.
—
—
ALCIRIS met me trudging in the snow— the sheep were gather'd on the Hillocks, where they stood lamenting and dismay'd, hungry and trembling, —for my Lamb I wept—he caught it up and bare it in his arms, home to our COTT—as then I loved the Lamb, I lik'd the man who saved it from the misery it felt—he ask'd a poor reward for such his care, and with good will I yielded it—he ask'd a kiss, he took it for his pains; and for my Lamb I gave him one again—my transport made me bold, for all my mind was full of the dear Lamb; I never thought of what it was I did—but recollection soon rush'd upon me, my confusion was almost immediate, and blushes were incessant—he gaz'd upon me with looks of languishment mixing with smiles; an expression not to be described, was in his eyes—then was the time, I first perceiv'd peculiar pleasure in the conversation of a Man —and thence I first began to observe the image of his Sex, with more than cold indifference—for my involuntary gaze, ran rambling over his figure, with a curiosity fraught with pleasure —I beheld him tall and well proportion'd—his limbs are not robust, but of a gentle turn—his jetty Locks break careless o'er his neck in ringlets, his garb, tho' homely, shews his form to some advantage—his brow is open— his eyes as dark as sloes, look quick as sparks struck from the Travellers horse-shoe in the Lanes at night, and make one start with the acuteness of the flash—his cheek is ruddy with the glow of Health, where smiles sit good-naturedly in dimples; and from his lips, the softest Voice, in sweet, in mild and modest accents fall—his education far beyond his station, gives him sentiments and phraze, would make my Mother wonder—a SHEPHERD in his occupation, but above OLISSUS in his Wisdom—My MARIANNE, he says, the Lamb's an Orphan, bereft of aid—it has lost its Parent—Animals of Prey will soon devour it, if it is not foster'd by thee—all ORPHANS are exposed to perils—preserve my Lamb, and let me be thy Shepherd—I wonder'd at his talk—thou art, says he, just as this Lamb, bereft of that good Parent, who might defend, sustain, and bring thee out of Dangers—thy antient mother may instruct thee, b
the wisdom of all precept is confounded by evil Fortune, and subject to the subtilties of Knaves; as Aspines tremble to every breeze—the Woodbine unsupported, dangles in the dust; and untimely, all her sweets and beauties languish and expire—my Arm methinks, could find for thee Protection; my bosom could ensure a resting place; my Industry could earn thee Competency and Comfort;—I guess'd not at his wishes—
—
And I could love my Lamb forever, he cries.
—
—
then it was I first was struck with comprehension—I told him, that my Mother ruled my Actions, and that I had not entertain'd a Wish to call my own—
—
but wilt thou, (adds he, with a degree of impatiency) hear me tell my Passion? for I love thee as my Life— I first observ'd thee at the Chapel, and I thought I saw an Angel pray—my Soul was set on fire, and I was all Enthusiasm, my Devotion was carry'd to a fervor beyond what I had before experienced—yet whilst I kneel'd, my mind began to wander, and my thoughts would often stray from heaven, replete with Love of thee—I cherish'd the fond flame, and oft it led me musing in the Grove; and oft my fancy wander'd, inspired by thy image, as on the Hill I lay to tend my Sheep—when e'er I tuned my Pipe, thou wert the music of my Mind; and full of thee each warbling sonnet tril'd —oft to myself I talk'd, and prais'd thy Charms, and pray'd for thy embrace—the Beachen bark stands letter'd with thy name, the Lime-tree bears the emblems of my Love.
—
—
as thus he talk'd, my Bosom heav'd with hasty breathing; on my cheeks the colour arose, and tears stood in my eyes—he press'd my hand to his soft lips, whilst my impatient bosom throb'd, to exchange the pleasure.
—
—
he added, to wedlock fairest MARIANNE my wishes lead, for it would equal a state of Paradise to have thee mine.
—
—
I bid him talk to you of Marriage —here in this Dale he often comes, in these sequester'd Plains we walk, and in yonder long green Lane, beneath the shade of Hawthorns; our talk is full of gentleness, and the more he professes himself the Lover
seems the more abash'd, timorous, and doubtful to offend—not like OLISSUS, whose impetuous Passion kindling up from sparks, blazed out in vehemence, and terrified me with a flood of Kisses —when ALCIRIS is here, the hours seem enviously short, and he is departing, before I think I have welcomed him— his kindness delights my recollection—I could think of him for ever.—If this is LOVE, dear Matron, then your MARIANNE hath been ensnared.
WEDNESDAY.
Is spent in
COUNTER PLOTS.
AS the panting Zephyr, arises from the op'ning Rose loaded with sweets, the Muse enraptur'd with the Image of fair MARIANNE, withdraws her wing, fraught with the simple beauties of meek Innocence; and ling'ring on the haunts of Pleasure, with reluctance bends her way to yonder VALE, which from throng'd Alders, thriving in their watry situation, give to CYMON'S lands the name of ALLER COPSE.
The Dwelling of this family, is placed on a low ground, where Rushes are abundant—a creeping stream winds thro' the flat, worn in the Peaty Earth, which stains the muddy Waters—a grove of Alders croud the marsh, obstructing the view from CYMON'S COTTAGE; and in
ercepting every object, save the elevated Mountains which o'ertop the Trees —
— Close to the Windows, in a miry track, the Cattle trudge—at the door, on dunghill laid, the sow delights in Indolence, and courting Ease w
th many a sigh, extended pants, full in the Sun— the entrance is distinguished by its flags, rude and irregular; where beneath a ragged shed, some peats and wither'd Wood are heap'd—dark, damp and melancholy the habitation looks—cold Ivy mantles on the Front, where Sparrows nestle— some strunted Thorns, spread their green bosoms around the door, and dry the dangling dishclouts, and give air to Stockings blue and brown—the scanty Windows scarce sufficient to admit at Noon a twilight ray, are patch'd with paper—on the Hearth the fuel blazes, circled round with bricks, whose smoak
n winding Volumes eddies in the open
ange; where many an iron instrument
f Household, as decorations hang— a
ong settee, the fireside throngs, cover'd with Calf-skin; beneath whose frame, old CYMON'S wooden shoes keep holy
ay, and harbour Tabbys Kittens—a
hining Table, spreads its ample bord
eneath the window, loaden with a lea
en loaf, a cheese, and scatter'd leeks—
ull opposite, an oaken Cupboard stands, where carving is benumb'd in stiff stalk'd Lillies, lumps of Grapes and wooden foliage—the pillars swell protuberant with timber, and half reveal each private recess and carv'd closet door—with pewter doublers, all the top stands furnish'd—the white wash'd walls are pictur'd with the sufferings of Saints, gash'd and bedaub'd with crimson and yellow—here CYMON lives in wealth— for he, laborious in his youthful years and crafty, had amas'd a fortune—Riche
obtained by the sweat of toil, and many a subtle bargain; yet saved by abstinence pinching penury, and self-denial snatch'd from the hand of Hunger, an
the lip of Thirst, with coarse and homel
food sustain'd, not knowing comfort bu
in Gain—all his delight was Gold—th
yellow store, which neither accommodations purchased, or ease, was his felicity —it joy'd his ear—transports diffused on his Soul, as gold possess'd his eyes— its touch was exquisite—its numbers heavenly—without an estimate to give it
n importance, he adored the Ore—so the infatuated Indian, bows in worship, to the mute log, whose strange distorted features his own rude carving render'd hideous; and of whose impotence and insensibility he was fully conscious from its beginning.—
—Bending with age, the sage Old Man, sat multiplying in his mind, the store he had amass'd by numbers, to which his love of life, had bid him hope he should increase his Years — a little white hair silver'd his brow, beneath a cap of woolen, strip'd with green and grey—his heavy eye-brow
hid his eyes with tufts of yellow hair— on his sharp nose two shatter'd glasses hung—hollow was his cheek, brush'd with a bristly beard—his party colour'd Coat, bound with a leathern Girdle, had wearied Industry to patch, and Avarice to gather—
—The partner of this wealthy man, sat o'er the Embers, whiffing fragrant fumes from out a sooty Pipe—her small and meagre figure was attir'd in home spun grey—girt with blue bands, her catter'd apron wav'd in fringes to her Knees—her fallow skin, hung shrivel'd
n her brow in many a Plait—her cheeks were lean and lank—her acute looks
eem'd with suspicion keen, and in her wither'd carcass, hollow sounds incessant
y croak'd and wander'd—ALCIRIS was the Issue of their youth—a Child they had, born in their elder years, a DAUGHTER—ALCIRIS was the day
ong from their sight, he was the guardian of their Flocks—but their JENNET
A was employ'd at home in domestic Duties—her occupations were the Dairy and the Fold.
This Daughter, sad Misfortunes had
ishapen—her shoulders were protuberant —her ankles twisted, and her Countenance was crooked—as her frame, so was her Mind distorted—for tho' the Cow's benevolence suppli'd her daily Pail, and fill'd her Bowls with riches; tho' the meek flocks their heavy fleeces yielded to her Arms, and fill'd the grasp of Avarice with wealth—tho' the prolific Stye with Litters teem'd, the Roost pour'd forth her hidden hoards and living Troops—altho' fertility had blest the Furrow and the Mead; yet void of gratitude, untouch'd by daily bounties and examples, her soul remain'd as sullen as the Rocks, which frown'd upon the Dale; and tasteless of the gifts of Providence, as the dark barrenness of
hought. which broode
only on the
opes of future Gain. —
—led by chance, as she returned from the Town, JENNETTA pass'd the COTTAGE of fair MARIANNE—within the
ong green Lanes ALCIRIS stray'd and with his lovely Maid, in tales of soft affection, unsuspiciously enjoy'd the shadowy haunts, where blowing Woodbines
ent round the Hazel boughs, and where they thought themselves in secret and secure—JENNETTA view'd the Pair, and with sour looks a-skance, gave up
er mind to malice; for within her Soul, soft sympathetic Pleasures never beem'd—
—Homeward JENNETTA hey'd, and to her Parents gave descriptions of the scene she hated—At her approach, the bolt was drawn with cautious hand— with eye placed to the latch-hole of the door, the Matron view'd JENNETTA'S face e'er she would give her passage— haste had made her breathings short
wrath enflam'd her cheek, and glared upon her eye—the Parents saw their Daughters Image chang'd, and fear'd some danger had beset her Steps—the Maid impatient of their error, cries,
Stay your mistaken apprehensions, 'tis not for me, that your Parental hearts should pant with Terror, but for your Son ALCIRIS.
—as she paus'd, Dread stole into their souls,
nd struck them dumb: for with the
tmost tenderness, they lo
'd ALCIRIS— —
He (says JENNETTA) is betray'd— deluded by the Arts and fly insinuations of that MARIANNE, of whom too busy fame hath often spoken ill.
—
—Of MARIANNE (the Mother interrupts) and who is she?
—
—
One (cries the Maid) whom the world has treated with contempt, —of spurious birth—or if of birth legitimate; of Father, and of stock unknown—she with her Mother lives an homely Life; but how they are sustain'd the Neighbours have not learnt, save what their Needle-work procures them; a sorry Pittance—yet with their poverty so proud, they scorn all intercourse with the People, despising to be social with the Cottagers who dwell within their Dale they live unneighbourly, and hid
their wants in a sequester'd solitary Life.
—
—The old Man, from his stoo
edge, with projecting figure, fat uneasy; with hand extended and impatient looks, attentive to the Tale— —
yet with their Poverty so proud that all their converse, when the
condescend to talk with Peasants, is of Romantick Virtues, lofty Views, presuming Maxims, Manners dictating, and Modes ambitious—they scorn the little talk of Dairy duties and the Reapers joys—this MARIANNE hath fill'd her simple soul with empty tales of times past by, and what she calls Philosophy; and gives her wand'ring thoughts up to the stars—a Mate unfit for our ALCIRIS.
—
—The old Man interrupts—
Whence knowest thou that she has snared my Boy?—for him I toil'd— I love the Lad—for him, I have rejoic'd to multiply my Gains—the Youth deserves my Care, for disobedience since his earliest breath, hath never mark'd his Life.
—
—
Cometh not disobedience soon enough reply'd JENNETTA, when ALCIRIS would dispose his Heart, on other objects than his Father's will?—I saw him in yonder gre
Lanes walk, hid from the beams of day, by shading Trees and hanging Woodbines; concealing from the eye of Man his odious intercourse with MARIANNE—I saw her stretch her neck aloft, exulting in the Vows he paid— her lofty neck, extended with the empty Pride of this her conquest, like the giddy Goose that looks around, rejoicing in the empire of her gadling Gander—so simple look'd the Man amidst her Triumph—with portly gait she walk'd and seem'd to think herself a Goddess—and when she deign'd to smile, the Swain around her waist, cast his transported Arms, and in a strain of Phrenzy catch'd a kiss — whence can such fond infatuation flow?—Such fascination of the human Mind?—I neither feel nor fancy the sensation, which can beget such transports.
—
—The Mother with a scream, clasp
ng her hands, interrupts the Story; asking a thousand questions in a breath, which in the same breath she resolves into the darkest doubtfulness.
The Father heard the Tale, and thus
harrangues,—"Here all my days have been consum'd in Toil—my years in Labour spent, have yielded riches, which hitherto I have not enjoy'd—for in those Riches, self-denial hath withdrawn my Lip from Comforts Cup and Appetite hath often yearn'd at my most parsimonious board; whilst self-enjoyment, held in Chains of Avarice, hath languish'd out existence—I loved my Boy, and for his happiness forsook my own—yet what is Happiness?—with him 'tis Love— his undeserning Mind is occupied by present objects, and perceives not what futurity is pregnant with—he thinks the smiles of MARIANNE are smiles of Heaven, and tastes in Kisses Love's infatuating fond felicity— once I was young, and ELLEN on my breast, was all my wishes crav'd.— I lov'd my ELLEN with a transport not to be express'd.—My daily toils, tho' wearisome, were sweet, since they supply'd my Wife with Comfort—my Cares were for her pleasures, for the cares proceeding from Necessity, were weigh'd alone by ELLEN'S wants.— Labour was chearfully sustained, as it purchased us such Blessings—Ease so seldom tasted, was an inestimable Joy, as it indulg'd our intercourse of Love, and made the Sunday, Happinesses Sabbath—but years came on and cool'd our Passions—when Nature cool'd, Felicity fell from Transport into Temperance, and Love extinguish'd his fervor and his fires— the various Estimates of Life were changed—Necessities grew irksome— Care came on in frowns—and all the sweets which once could meliorate the sorrows of our station, like the Roses on the Briars, with the Seasons drooping, died away, and left the Thorns naked—we thence perceiv'd that money was the only source of lasting Peace, as it secured our Ease—for our Infants we became anxious, to gain them property, was to secure them Pleasure—Love is the seasoning of Youth—but Youth is as a span in human Life, which when elapsed, resigns mankind to Care.
JENNETTA sigh'd—the Father ceas'd —the Maid cries out,
Why, what am I?—of what am I compounded? unlike my Parents, and unlike my Brother—I neither feel the pleasure which my father pictures, or my Brother tastes; nor doth my mind conceive what kind of Joy, this Love inspires. I often thought the strang
contagion was a kind of Madness, i
which the Patient was busy'd with eternal fever of the Mind, and Image extravagant—a malady of thought— a wild conception of delights, delusive as the Images of a delirium—a other times I looked upon it as a
intoxication; a disease that drowns the Judgment, and benumbs the nerves— am I by nature blighted, mishapen i
form, and in my sensations untoned and unharmonized?—I feel myself in no wise made deficient, Judgment rules my thoughts, and all my senses own the same impulse, as others of my Sex experience—Surely this deficiency is in the soul; for, by my Father's talk, it seems this Love is sentiment, not mere sensation.—I cannot comprehend it—to yield to conjectures is to lead to anxiety—but of ALCIRIS'S father—if your experience shews, that Love's a transitory scene, of vague instable transports, and that wealth procures a life-long Joy; wherefore do- you hesitate? you love your Son, and from parental principles, would save him from his follies—forbid his intercourse with MARIANNE: I hate he haughtiness and arrogance of Wi
dom—A girl who thinks she's prett
will be disagreeable and vain; b
one who thinks she is wise, will a
ways render herself detestable— wake his mind from this Letharg
Love, and banish the Visions of I
fatuation, give him new pursuits, a
try if Love can battle Love: try ANNA'S prudent years and wealt
portion, with a parent's kind Commands, will not move the Youth testify his Obedience and Jud
ment.
—
—The name of ANNA rous'd old CY
ON'S ear, there was music in her Por
ion—he cast up his Countenance and
rind a smile, glancing at JENNETA—
ooks of approbation over his spectacles —"wherefore talkest thou of ANNA?" says the Sage.—
—
ANNA sighs in vain for your ALCIRIS, but he derides her Passion —she often tells me of his scorn in tears—you know her large estate— she hath not yet attain'd her fortieth year—her form is comely, tho' not beautiful—her Education rural and domestic—her Acres spread the Valley with grassy walks, for Pleasure's steps—her golden furrows laugh with Opulence, and on her lap prosperity and Prudence have been foster'd— unlike this MARIANNE—for she is bred with notions arrogant and impious; and all your little wealth
would squander to indulge her fellies.
—
—A frown stood low'ring on OLD CYMON'S brow—he sighed—and from his murmurs no Articulation escaped, but just the name of Money.—
—
Extravagance would hold revels in the stores which your Industry gain'd, and a progeny of Beggars would enthral your Sons sad steps.
—
—OLD CYMON cast an angry glance towards Heaven, and knit his tusks with
ehemence.—
—
For what are all the empty tales, reap'd from the pens of Poets? Visions and drunken dreams which constitute the Drama—vain tittle tattle, fit only to become the conversation of those who hold the hands of indolence—but ANNA can adorn the marriage Life with maxims pluck'd from the pinions of Prudence and propriety of Judgment, ensuring wealth, with hand assiduous, and the measures of frugality.
—
The father clasping both his hands upon his breast, reply'd,—
I love my Son— such is the human Mind, that if the Lad should be restrain'd in this his early passion, all the wealth that I can give may but increase his wretchedness—Love sometimes is so fickle, that with indulgence, it grows languid, sickens and dies; if Love is well established, if it depends not on outward beauties, but is fed by excellencies of the mind, and Virtue, and is supported by pure Judgment it will never be liable to extinction— nay, there is even a bias of the Mind which arises in Nature; and Nature herself from Sympathy, influences man's heart —the common proverb is, that marriages are made in Heaven; implying, that our Love is involuntary— but how we, for the sake of Prudence, may counteract this Passion? there is the rub!—by indulgence, in a course of years, it may grow faint, but then becoming temperate, it may grow into an indissoluble Friendship—so was my Love of ELLEN—a friendship which, with mutual pleasure flows, and all the measures of a mutual mind: Friendship on mutual offices and aids sustain'd. —Perhaps my boy hath center'd all his soul on this his choice, an
shapes his happiness from mutu
Love and sympathetic sentiments— we should blight this blossom of la
Life, the Plant would sicken, woul
untimely fade, and prematurely without fruit expire—for by resistanc
Love like an impeded River gathe
strength, and grows impetuous; th
banks at length are overflowed, th
barriers broken down, and all become a Deluge—his happiness is all my ai
—to purchase it, I gave my Life fo
wealth, to purchase it, I will all m
wealth resign—thou art no Judg
JENNETTA of his thoughts—for in hi
youth I gave him an Education, from whence manly judgment forms the maxims of his mind, above the bounds of our unletter'd sentiments—for Learning pours into the human stores collected Laws for regulating Life— from thence one mind attains the reasonings of thousands, is taught to judge from others Judgments, accumulates the experience of multitudes, and the examples of Ages, ten
its Wisdom with the knowledge
thered by Sages of all times—the M
of Learning, tries Discretion in Examples Scale, and like the Bee which carries to his Hive the honey of each flower, his understanding is enrich'd from all the Science of the World.
—
—JENNETTA, from impatiency, sa
knawing from her nails the bleeding flesh.—
—
ALCIRIS may discover in hi
MARIANNE Virtues and Excellencie which lay conceal'd from vulgar eyes a treasure for the enjoyment of hi
Understanding—but the fairest of th
feminine accomplishments, is VIRTUE —possessed of that
—
—"Possess'd of VIRTUE Father," interrupts the Maid with Vehemence
Pray what is VIRTUE?—is it is CHASTITY alone, or in DISCRETION —perhaps in neither can this Sorceress make boast, that she possesseth VIRTUE —the world is busy'd with her Friendship for the gay OLISSUS— they meet, they walk, they hold their intercourse in every Grove, and each sequester'd bower—and what OLISSUS leaves, ALCIRIS takes—to a young man's mind, perhaps her Vices have allurements more infatuating than the pale fac'd VIRTUES; and SENSUALITY may fascinate beyond pure LOVE—in case Discretion be the Characteristic or the Type of VIRTUE, 'tis not known to MARIANNE—for fam'd OLISSUS, full of opulence and arts polite, never blushes at the Title of Lascivious and fam'd OLISSUS is the Devotee o
MARIANNE—as the Sun and Moon a
tend this Earth, OLISSUS and ALCIR
wait the Maid—OLISSUS like the day is all glowing rapture; ALCIRIS lik
the cool and languid Moon, gazes alone upon the shadow'd side, whe
all her imperfections lay enveil'd— Female VIRTUE gone, her place is soo
occupied by craft and Treachery-betray'd by Man, Man is a Woman prey, to gratify Revenge—and to appease despoil'd Chastity, as is the fashion of the World, some cunnin
Wedlock, must expunge the Stain.
The Vices of OLISSUS, and the dark insinuations, inflame the Mother's Mind, where, in a strain of Enthusiasm VIRTUE reign'd—she glow'd with Vehemence and to the Sire such arguments enforc'd, of lavishing and Waste. Intemperance and Pride, Inchastity and Vice, Ruin and Misery, as overpower'd the old Man's Judgment, and Love for his ALCIRIS; and gave him back to AVARICE, and all her train of Images, unfeeling and unkind.
THURSDAY.
In
LOVE'S
Distress abounds.
AT the accustom'd hour of Assignation, came ALCIRIS to the Vale to meet his MARIANNE; and true as Fidelity, the Maid his presence waits— but, ah! his looks how chang'd—
—Wan wore his cheek, and dimly shone his eye through woe—his lip hung trembling on the long protracted kiss, and sighs disturb'd his Speech.—
—MARIANNE affrighted, burst into Tears, and in apprehension trembling, sunk her head upon his Bosom—so the Narciss when burthen'd with the shower, conceals her languid Countenance in dew, and bends her pale face to the Earth — they both forbore to speak their sentiments, and silence stood encumber'd with their woe—at length with smiles forc'd on the face of grief, as sunshine shed on rain, ALCIRIS to her anxious ear, the dread silence brake—
—
Let us, dear Maid, from these love-haunted Walks retire with speed, for even these sweet scenes are treacherous, and tell our intercourse and mutual vows—we'll seek the more sequester'd walks which skirt the rivers brink; and there, from all the busy world conceal'd, I'll tell thee such a Tale, as rocks alone should witness to, and Mountains shadow with their frowns
—
—through all the winding tracks they haste, with silent steps they pass the mazes of the Wood, and gain the solemn haunts, where Echo sits lamenting o'er the never returning Stream, and repeats with sighs the murmurs of the Water Nymph, whose love-sick soul forlorn, wastes all its languishment on Faun
haunting green wood shades—close b
the river's brink a sandy plain, left by the Winter Torrents affords a narrow walk—the hasty river, hurry'd over rocks, with a hoarse voice murmurs— the Cliffs are high and horrid which
em in the river's bounds, on whose black brows Hazels and Thorns with Heckberries in thickets throng'd, protect the precipice, and yield a solemn shade—the mossy rocks with trilling streams are wet, and melancholy seems to hold her moping meditations in their Cells—there the two Lovers stray'd—and there ALCIRIS told the sorrowing MARI
IANNE the story of his Misery and
ears.
Envy's eye hath overlook'd ou
walks, and from JENNETTA'S Lips our mutual Love is in piously traduced—she in acts of Cruelty has joy and in dissimulations arts, hath he perfections—my Father is a Man enslaved by AVARICE—the sordid habit of his saving mind, have worn awa
all sentiments, but thoughts of gainone only Passion is preserv'd to sa
the universal wreck of all that that human in him— LOVE TO ME—tha
love alone holds conflicts with his Co
vetousness— for me he quits his estmates of Gold, and I alone stand th
competitor with Riches, in my Father's Judgment—my Mother yet of weaker mind, is yet more bigotted, and to the bitter drench adds such suspicions and such Jealousies, as only want of Judgment, could devise— to them, JENNETTA hath reveal'd our meetings and OUR MUTUAL LOVE.
—
—
What estimation (interrupts the Maid) bear they of thy MARIANNE? —what value do they set upon her Virtues?
—
—He ligh'd—
Alas! with them her Virtues are despis'd—her fortune is the estimate they give into the wretched balance, where far outweigh'd by Lucre, the light beam is kick'd aloft, and gives thy Virtues only to the Skies.
—
—
And of thy Love (says she) are they insensible? against thy happiness obdurate?
—
—
My Father puts my filial Duty in Competition with my Love,—he measures happiness by Hundreds, and by wealth—his tenderness is sap'd by treachery, and JENNETTA hath de
poil'd ALCIRIS of a father's Love?
—
—
I tremble with the apprehensio
of my Fate (the Maid replies)—i
then our intercourse forbidden?
—
—
Alas! my MARIANNE, (answer
ALCIRIS dropping a tear) perhaps th
night shall prove our Severance so Years.
—
—The Maid affrighted, on her quivering knees, scarce for a moment was supported—down she sunk from her ALCIRIS'S Arm, on the sand her lovely Visage droop'd as she shed a flood of Tears—ALCIRIS bending on his knee, reliev'd the fair one, and sustain'd her pale cheek on his throbbing Bosom— grief choak'd her Words, and deep despair heav'd her afflicted heart—ALCIRIS in his soul experienc'd a Woe most exquisite; for the idea of the hated ANNA, present to his mind, was undiscover'd to his MARIANNE: in his heart the conflict betwixt LOVE AND DUTY wag'd, and stir'd up wild confusion in his Brain.
—Alas! she cries, What is the Wretchedness that shall beset my Orphan steps?—I had already given to my soul, consolotary hopes, sustaining them on thee.
—
—
How heavy are the troubles o
my Mind (reply'd ALCIRIS)—Amids
this scene of FILIAL DUTY, enforc'd by all that is religious in my Principles, by Gratitude, by early bred Affection, what measures can ALCIRIS move in?
—
—SUSTAIN THY VIRTUE (interrupted MARIANNE) tho' I am yielded to a desolate Estate—for even MARIANNE could look upon ALCIRIS with disdain, if passion should divest him of his Duty, and take away his principles of Honour—amidst the sorrows of Life, I could adore thee, beaming with thy RECTITUDE OF MANNERS —but in thy Errors, even thy beloved bosom, could not sooth my Condemnations and my Grief, for thy misconduct— No! I love ALCIRIS with such purity of passion, that sever'd from thee, by propriety of Duty, I could love thee, for ever—but given to thee by thy DISOBEDIENCE, my approbation, ravish'd by the Thief that stole thy Honour, would leave the fruits o
Love, blighted and despoil'd.
—
—Whilst thus thou wouldst persuade me (says: ALCIRIS) to forsake thee, thou bind'st the Fetters with a Adamantine Rivet; and makes my Admiration gather Strength from excellencies which Adversity hath give Existence to—No; MARIANNE, I wil
not leave thee!
—
—
And wilt thou leave thy Duty —(she replies) thou, who tastes religious Sense of filial Virtues—the Duty of a Child is an implicit Obedience to a parents will—by birth our Sovereigns, we by birth their Subject unto Death—next to the Deity we owe existence to them; and for their tender Care, parental assiduity and Love, over our Infant state, what Compensation can our Gratitude and Duty make?—what are the Sorrows which a Sire sustains, in the unnatural wand'rings of his Child, from his Commands? which, by the Laws of Nature, and of God, are Ordonances not to be eluded or opposed.—I cannot feel the Sorrows—all my thoughts are not so powerful as to collect sad Images enough to give Imagination half their horrors—often amongst inferior Animals; I have view'd with tears, an Image of this sad Estate; and often as I observ'd it, cry'd aloud, wi
then must be the Parents Lot, wh
sees her human race undutiful?
—
—
Give me thy sentiments (says h
in all their Energy, thy Images in a their force; that even against the Strength, I yet may strengthen my determined Choice.
—
With a sigh she thus deliver'd her f
Simile.—
Often I perceiv'd the Pare
Hen, lead forth her infant brood Ducklings, nourish'd by her assidui
and Care; and as she call'd her wa
ward flock, with wond'ring Eye s
stood and gazed upon the negroe race; expressing, in her looks, maternal disappointment and distress, that she should foster such a monstrous tribe, who shew'd their disobedience in their earliest age—and when in bold defiance of her Voice, they hasten'd to the neighbouring Pools and Ponds; with plumes disorder'd, and with drooping Wings bemired, in strange distraction round she ran, and call'd to them aloud, and wail'd the dangers which their wilful Natures tempted—then on some eminence she stood, the Image of Despair, and saw them lave the Stream: with head projected, hanging Pinions quivering with Agony of mind, feathers with fright erect, and Eye enflamed in Wrath, she breath'd out her Condemnations—the direfu
semblance of a despairing Parent, who in broken heartedness beholds a sinfu
race of disobedient Children, unnatura
in their Crimes.
—
—ALCIRIS thus reply'd—
From your Examples I new Arguments derive to aid my fix'd resolves—I own the Image striking—but reflect tha
this maternal bird, was giving Law
unnatural to her brood, and from he
own improper Judgment, she derived her own distress—so Nature hath no
given to mankind Authority to chain the marriage Choice—'tis Nature's Work, from Sympathy derived—an influence which Nature throws through all existence; an involuntary impulse, an attraction irresistable—but further in thy Images I read, that Children may possess superior powers, and excellences unknown unto their Parents —for the Ducks enjoy'd amphibious Nature; Earth or Water were alike to them, the Elements for their Existence—and what is duty when it should restrain the bounteous Gifts of Providence? and what is disobedience, when it is the exercise of Powers by Parents unexperienced, of which their Judg
ment is not competent from want o
knowledge and from Ignorance, tasting despair?
—
—
What doth ALCIRIS mean? (crie
she)—amidst the purest Love, I tremble at the very sentiments which flatter my flame.
—
—
And is my MARIANNE so very cool (ALCIRIS interrupted with a sigh
—Can my deluded heart have bee
mistaken in its views of happiness? o
was my Passion blinded by its energy so that it could not decern, that cold indifference had possession of thy Hear
—nay, start not MARIANNE, yet I wil
not doubt thy Love—my soul is full of Confidence, tho' full of grief: yesterday my cruel parents laid injunctions on their Son, to quit thy Arms for ever.
—
The Maid affrighted, started from his side—
—
To quit my MARIANNE, and by the Wealth of ANNA to increase my Father's Avarice, from bands unhallow'd, and a hateful Marriage.
—
With extended hands—with trembling knees—with Countenance of Beauty in distraction, stood the Fair one, growing into Madness.—
—
Ye cruel stars, she cries, y
fates presiding on the hour of my N
tivity; you mark'd me out for Wretc
edness and Woe—rob'd of my Father in my infancy—portion'd with li
tle more than stern necessity, ye bligh
ed me, e'en in the bud of Life; a
mark'd my years with Sorrow, a
progressive Miseries.
—
—ALCIRIS full of pity, full of Lov
with open Arms rushed upon the Mai
and clasp'd her to his Bosom.—
—
No, my MARIANNE, I still w
save thee, still will be thy Shepher
and protect my Orphan from a
wretchedness to come: thy ALCIR
will support, all that is laudable in Duty—for tho' I marry not my MARIANNE, yet to these Arms shall ANNA never come—perhaps relenting rigour may consent to give me back my happiness and thee—perhaps elapting time may touch their hearts—but time and stern command, obduracy of power, and will grown obstinate, shall never change my Love, shall never fever me from this fidelity, shall never shake my Vows—for as the God who gave us mutual Love, first formed our sympathetic Hearts, conform'd our Natures passions, Dispositions and Affections, he will delight in Vows born of the feelings which he hath i
spir'd; and Angels will record the
in the book of Approbation—in t
tremendous presence, Lord, I swea
that only death shall sever us.
—
—As on his knee, he breath'd t
Vow; she on her knee repeated, th
only Death should sever them.—
—Sinking into each other's Arm
they wept aloud.—
—Amidst their Wretchedness, b
hold JANNETTA lurking in the rock
impatient of the scene, discover'd her malicious Countenance—ALCIRIS met he frowns with steadiness; but MARIANNE like SORROW, struck with sudden terror, good the Statue of DISCONSOLATION.—
Invectives teinted each expression of JENNETTA'S lips—she with ALCIRIS moved towards OLD CYMON'S COPSE, whilst MARIANNE stood fix'd in silent Misery.—
At EMMA'S COTTAGE sat the gay OLISSUS, and watch'd the slow return of MARIANNE—with EMMA, thus conver
ing—
—
Long I had felt this passion for your Daughter—the flame defy'd resistance—as I strove to conquer Love, his conquest still improv'd—defiance was impossible—I found myself a Slave to Beauty—to you I supplicate—you
mediation is my Hope—without her
am wretched.
—
—
Consider, Sir, (Sage EMMA cry'd,) the vast disparity between your Fortunes—the World with Men of wealth is to be serv'd; and approbation from Mankind, is half a rich Man's happiness—the World despises VIRTUE, in the garb of POVERTY—the world would scoff at improprieties in Wedlock, such as these—and what was due to great OLISSUS'S wife, would become ridicule for MARIANNE—such marriage, Sir, would bring upon you Scorn from equals, and from inferiors strange impertinence and Laughter —FELICITY is born of tranquil Parents, VIRTUE and CONSCIOUS RECTITUDE OF MATTERS—but POMP AND FASHION, VANITY AND CUSTOM, are the MAIDS who trim the modern nuptial Couch, and strew the Pillows with the poisons of the World—LOVE may unloose the wedding Girdle; but after him comes stale SATIETY; and if his steps stray unsupported by the GRACES, the scene of WEDLOCK is a scene of WOE.
—
—"Wherefore so much of WEDLOCK?"—(he interrupts)
—
So much of Wedlock, (Sir, cries she) good Heaven forbid, that yo
could think of MARIANNE, on an
other Terms!—do you reproach u
with our poverty, and think that wan
of wealth, brings with it want of Honour?—do you conceive that in thi
state forlorn, in which a Mother
gifts have only been her admonition
and her tenderness, that MARIANN
amidst her poverty, hath not endow'
her Soul with RICHES, far above th
rust of this vain World; and treasure up a portion in the Heavens, a wealt
of VIRTUE AND RELIGION.
—
—
Stay EMMA, stay, (he eagerl
replies) brand me not with a thought that I could wish her Infamy, or dared project her ruin—but yet your picturing of married Life, brought back upon me all the Arguments, which I had conquer'd, and o'er which I triumph'd—all that was wanting to confirm my resolution, was the history of, who and what you are?—my Love and honourable principles excuse this promptitude, which, in an other matter, might bear the likeness of impertinence.
—
—
The History of what we are (says EMMA, casting her Eyes to Heaven in memory of him departed) is dolorous to recollection—the scenes which this inquiry must revive, are miseries to
renew'd upon my sorrowing Soul—b
what we were, still worse—Thro' poverty I hid my MARIANNE, in th
sequester'd Dale, far from her nativ
Land; and with her, hid her Nam
—her Ancestors were Men of Wealth her father was by fate decreed to b
unfortunate.
—
—
Whence was the fair one brough
(cried OLISSUS) and what her name— my Love's impatiency brooks no d
lay—I long to ravish the wish'd fo
history, and prove her birth is not b
neath her Fortune, which I offer f
her Love.
—
In SURRY the Maid was born (reply'd the Matron—her Ancestors. Demesnes were large—her Father's family of great Antiquity, and in the walks of Honour their Atchievements had acquired them an immortal fame—her Father was a Soldier—a gallant Man, who, full of Valour, full of Wounds, descended to the Grave, mark'd only by ADVERSITY.
—
—OLISSUS seem'd to feel the History, a sensibility was visible upon him, more than the common incidents could move; as if touch'd by recollection of some
earer subject—silent, and in himself absolv'd he sat; and as he meditated, Tear
stood in his Eye.—
EMMA ceased her Story for some moments, e're OLISSUS rous'd attention t
entreat her to proceed.—
—
My MARIANNE'S name is RAILTON.
—
—Startled at the Voice, as if an Angel call'd OLISSUS from the Clouds, h
arose up in haste—
her name is RAILTON (interrupting)—Oh! Heavens, what is it ye decree for your OLISSUS? —but pardon me, kind EMMA, I blush for my extravagance—the name is no
uncommon—I had yielded my Mind to Images and wild Ideas, which wound me up to phrenzy—I know a multitude of Families of the like name—Love is extravagant, and dreams of miracles—I had imprudently given way to strange infatuations; and conceiv'd that MARIANNE, was of a Race of RAILTON'S, which put a total bar to all my hopes, and bid my Love despair—a race with whom I could not intermarry.
—
—
A SURRY family was that?
—
—
Of Surry, EMMA.
—
—
Alas, my MARIANNE!—her father was a Soldier.
—
(O) —
A Circumstance not quite so fortunate.
—
—
His name AMINTOR.
—
—
Astonishment still grows upon me—where it will end, the Eye of Providence alone foresees.
—
—
I was the daughter of an honest Merchant.
—
—
A melancholy confirmation of my dread.
—
—
AMINTOR'S Father in King Charles's reign, being an unfortunate Partizan, his great possessions were despoil'd and wasted: and with a numerous family—alas!—AMINTOR fell.
—
—
Oh! EMMA—Oh! my heart —truth beams in every sentence, and I am ravish'd from my MARIANNE by interfering fate.
—
Poor EMMA of her hopes bereft was drown'd in Tears—immoveable, OLISSUS stood with folded Arms, revolving o'er the Tale in Sighs.—
Thus OLISSUS address'd the wond'ring Matron.
—
Oh! gracious Matron, I revere thy VIRTUES, and I feel thy Griefs! feel them as mine—my friendship you command—and though the Will of Heaven is such, as robs my Bed of MARIANNE; yet Heaven ordains that I relieve her Sorrows.
—
—
Despond not EMMA; for befor
it's long, I'll bring to thee a Comforter; whose saving hand, shall snatc
fair MARIANNE from Poverty an
Care: Shall set her Virtues forth, t
beam in Life conspicuous, and shew he
Honours to the wond'ring World.
—
OLISSUS with the Voice of Consolation, sooth'd poor EMMA'S soul.
FRIDAY.
In
TEARS
consumes the
DAY.
THE MORNING linger'd in the Gloom—the heavy Sky rent with the rough Winds raked the Mountains
row—the Clouds drag'd their ragged Skirts along the dark Heath—mirkey
ain beat up the Vale—day-break was
id behind the driving Vapours— when the Sun surmounted the dull Horizon, from his enflam'd Countenance, the Clouds were lined with Crimson— up t
vault of Heaven, far stretching bea
of light in scarlet Streaks burst throu
the broken Curtains of the Morn, a
shed upon the ruffled Atmosphere angry glow, like Etna's Flames refra
ted on Sicilian Skies at Midnight—t
dreary day advanced drench'd in heav
showers, and distant thunders, told th
the Elements in Conflict, waged t
Battle, weaponed with fire—the Gloo
involved Old EMMA'S COTT, where pe
sive MARIANNE, with wringing han
and sad despondency, sat sighing o'er h
hapless Love, and her precarious Fo
tunes—the mistick promises OLISS
gave, bewilder'd Hope, and all her Hearts ambition stood in Wishes, that
alth was her's to gain her loved AL
IRIS—Often as she sat, she gave the
ings of Hope to Fancy, and conceived
at some rich Chance was in the hand of Heaven decreed for her—with beating heart and expanded breast, she fancy'd herself already bearing tidings of such her happy fortune to ALCIRIS; and fond Imagination pictured his surprize, his wonder and his raptures: whilst love exulting in her bosom, in acts of such benevolence, gave her extacy— but soon the bubble, painted with its sunshine beauties burst, and gave her back to Tears renew'd, and conscio
ness of her Calamities—
—the dark day, to the misera
Mind, increased its gloomy Images the Spinning Wheel on which OLD E
MA toil'd, with melancholy hum, soun
ed Eligiac Notes—the Cricket chirp
upon the Hearth—the disconcerted Ca
with mewing sung the Song of restl
ness—the Wind thro' Crannies mourn
—the Rain upon the Windows stream — the dripping thatch with heavy drop the Channels fill'd, and with incessa
dashing tired the Ear.—the mopin
fowls with wat'ry feathers crept beneat the Cart—the harsh voiced Hog lamente
e unremitting Latch that bar'd him
rom the Stye—the bleating Sheep re
red to rocks and shelves, the Cattle ought the shed—all Nature wore a
loom, as if the hapless Lot of MARIANNE had moved her to lament.—
—For at old CYMON'S Copse, Distress
d taken up her residence, and gave a
ith to Sorrows, yet unfancy'd by the
ve-sick Soul of EMMA'S Daughter.—
—JENNETTA all unfeeling, inhumane,
ed vengeful, to her parents told the Scene, to which she had been present;
nd pictured to their inflamed minds, the want of duty in ALCIRIS, and his
edfast Vows.
Enraged IGNORANCE is unremitting for of Ignorance, stern OBSTINACY h
her Pedigree—with Oaths and Impre
tions CYMON vow'd ALCIRIS should disinherited, sent abroad a beggar, a
never more should see his face, if
should look again on MARIANNE—th
the meagre Mother, like the figure of il
luck on trembling legs shaken with pa
sion, with uplifted hands, blasphemin
God with most impious Vows, confirm'd the dread decree—whilst o
JENNETTA'S Countenance sat hellis
smiles, as with malicious Eye she view'
the passions which stamp'd ALCIRIS features with despair.—
ALCIRIS overwhelm'd with grief, bent down his knee to supplicate for Pity— but as he kneel'd, his agitated heart, as if with tumult overcome, choak'd his Expressions with its throws; and from his mouth, and swollen features, flow'd
torrent of Blood, such as a bursting heart might be conceiv'd to send from bleeding Arteries.—
— A while the Vehemence of Wrath extinguish'd apprehension, and the unfeeling Spectators, look'd on and laugh'd; and talk'd of disappointed Love with ridicule and Scorn—but still ALCIRIS bled.
The Spectacle grew serious—the youth exhausted, fainted—Affection in the Father's heart was seized with the alarm, and fear for his ALCIRIS'S safety, grew upon his soft'ning Soul.—
—Within some little distance lived the PRIEST, whose benevolent mind had bent its studies, on the Art of Surgery, and knew the physic of some salutary Simples; which, to the Cottagers with religious Love, he was known assiduously to minister—to him affrighted CYMON sent for Aid.—
In holy ANTHONY a thousand Virtue dwelt—Old Age had grown upon hi
Steps, within his little Chapelry; fo
VIRTUE was his only friend: all his excellencies could not purchase his promotion—with acts of Benevolence his days were fill'd—with Love and Honour were his days enrich'd.—In holy office from his Piety he was revered; and as exemplary was his Life, so was his life inestimable to his Parishioners— with him they pray'd with fervour; and when he preached, his Doctrine was believed, and Admonitions prais'd, tho' sometimes past unprosecuted— his scanty income scarce sustain'd him with the hand of Comfort; and yet for Charity he had a multitude of Gifts—he visited the Sick, their Spirit's Doctor, and their Malady's Physician: and often was he seen to cloath NECESSITY with his ow
Coat, and with unshod feet return from the Steps of Misery reliev'd—such wa
the godly ANTHONY.—
He came—he took the tremblin
hand of languishing ALCIRIS—he aske
his Pain—he touch'd the throbbin
Artery—he sunk his head, and sigh'd.
JENNETTA harden'd with malevolenc
and unsusceptable of Love, esteem'd h
Brother's Malady was all Hypocrisy; a
artful guise, to cheat his parents in false Compassion, and to procure the purpose to relent—but when the Ho
Father, from a slow and solemn Voi
declared a raging Fever had beset ALCIRIS'S frame, the Cottagers stood mute, as Images upon the cloister'd Walls, a-down whose stoney faces cold Sweats trill.—
Then ANTHONY e'er he prescrib'd his Medicines, required the circumstances which brought on the Malady—ALCIRIS to his questions, reply'd with Sighs and Tears, with Sobbings from his sickening heart—
—the melancholy narrative, from confusion and prevarication given, gave ANTHONY an apprehension that of disappointed Love, all his disease was born —he bent him o'er ALCIRIS bed, and gain'd the Secret from his sorrowing Lips.—
—Thus the good Man to weeping CYMON spake.—
—
Unhappy CYMON, all thy day have been a toil for Gain; and wha
hath all thy Industry procured; a mas
of mouldy Ore, and with it a dying Son—thy Avarice hath fill'd thy Soul with Poison, and thou has be come inhuman—a Parent without Pity for his Child, a Parent for his wealt
forsaking Nature and become a Savage —oft I've heard thee say, that all thy hopes on Earth were center'd in thy Son's felicity; and all thy Joys were wrap'd up in the Lad's well-doing— but thy mistaken Judgment rested all its Estimates on Wealth—WEALTH, TITLES, HONORS, give not happiness; for Happiness depends upon the Mind —AMBITION is the rankest Weed that springs within the Field of human Life: as Night-shade noxious—AMBITIONS wishes are insatiable; they overlook what's in possession, and give a ten-fold Estimate on things pursued: —FELICITY is foster'd by CONTENT, prescribed by narrow bounds, restrain'd within the Fence of PRUDENCE, and sustain'd by WISDOM—the Value of all earthly Riches in their Use— your Son had placed his View of Happiness on other Objects than on Opulence; his soul was readily resigned to MODERATION in this World's wealth▪ his heart was fix'd upon a Maid, whose Education hath endow'd her Mind, with knowledge, Prudence, and Propriety—whose VIRTUES are a lustre to her Sex.
—
—Old CYMON gazed on ELLEN.—
—
Whose form is beautiful—whose manners are simple as rural Life, yet full of Elegance—descended of a Family of Honour.
—
—JENNETTA sat impatiently.—
—
Unfortunate 'tis true; but tho' unfortunate, she is humble and resigned—Of her the Sex may form their models for procuring Praise—Of her the Sex may make their imitations honourable.
—
MALICE lighted up an ugly sneer, which stood awry on JENNET'S looks.—
—
With her, ALCIRIS saw that Happiness depended on the social Joys of domestic Harmony—a Friend,—a Councellor—a Comforter and Wife, blended by Love, united in one Person—Happiness hath few demands for earthly riches; for Necessity is all that craves their sustenance—Hard-hearte
Man—Obdurate ELLEN—unmedia
ing JENNET—could not thy female So
touched with a Sister's Love, plea
for thy Brother's life? for life w
in it—could not thy phrase be shap
by pity into Mediation; to soften b
thy prayers, thy wrathful parents▪ couldst thou not feal a sympathy
Lovers, to sooth the sorrows of the fearful thoughts; and interpose b
tween thy unapproving SIRE, and
ALCIRIS?
—
The Youth made efforts to express I Woes—the Priest attentive catch'd t
fault'ring accents.—
—
Alas! JENNETTA wrought my misery—traduced my MARIANNE—imbitter'd the wrath of my Parents, and gave to Avarice the dreads of dissipation—my Father laid injunctions on his Son—to MARIANNE I bid adieu— my heart was her's, and with the stream of life my passion flow'd; and as they flow'd united— I find the hand of Death arrests me—but I die in Duty.
—
The conscious Wretch sat crouching on the Hearth, confounding her deformities, her bosom heav'd a sigh, born from disappointment, not compunction: for she had vow'd that ANNA should e
pouse ALCIRIS.—
CYMON was touch'd with Pity—E
LEN wept aloud.
ALCIRIS faintly cries,
My paren
tears afflict my fainting Soul, for fro
their obstinate resolves, Fate wres
their Son—Tears born of conscio
errors—Errors which Conscience wi
perpetuate, and when the green gra
shall have hid my Grave, the sad existing Image of ALCIRIS, shall li
upon their Memory: and Memo
shall tell them, that their Cruelty sle
me for AVARICE; whilst time shall on the records of the World, inscribe the Tale of my Obedience, together with my Fate.
—
CYMON drew near the bed and wept.—
—
Hapless Old Man, thou shalt behold the detestation which the God of Mercies bears, to idolized wealth— the Cares of Covetousness shall be confounded—thou hast hoarded for thy Son, and death shall bring confusion to thy Wisdom, and disappointments to thy Wish—for thy ALCIRIS goeth hence, where Gold shall lose its Estimates, and where the Moth shall not have power upon the Wardrobe of Felicity.
—
CYMON took ALCIRIS'S hand which burnt with fever, press'd it with a kiss and bent upon it with a Groan.—
—
Is there, cries he, no hope?— Is death so hasty?—Can we not ease thy sorrows and relieve thy pains?— Hath my ALCIRIS any wish, his father can indulge?—Shall my dear Son depart, and from his dying lips breath condemnation on his miserable Parent?—Oh! hapless fate of AVARICE —men hoard up wealth, but know not who the will of Heaven appoints Inheriters—I saved for happiness to thee, and purchased thy Sorrow— Fate gives the gains to JENNET—and fate hath mark'd her as a Monument to reprimand Man's impious and erroneous purposes—with thee, my Son, the name of WRIGHTSON, which I would perpetuate and enrich, is lost for ever.
—
The view of riches to JENNETTA'S mind gave Consolation for a Brother's death.—
—
If you would bless ALCIRIS'S parting Soul, (cries he with a fault'ring voice), let me once more behold my MARIANNE, my fainting Eyes would gladden at the View.
—
—
Shall MARIANNE approach these doors JENNETTA interrupted; she wh
hath wrought our Misery and Tears— she who hath rob'd my Parents of their happiness—she who hath lured ALCIRIS'S soul from his Obedience, and fascinating with her hellish Charms, hath given her beauty triumph in his Woes—she hath the powers of Witchcraft, and conceals her vices and her infamy with Wiles—If MARIANNE is here, JENNETTA must depart.
—
—
Cruel JENNETTA, with a voice almost extinct (ALCIRIS says) will not my Death be Sacrifice enough to your inveteracy; but you would send my Soul into Eternity, without one earthly consolation to calm the hour of Death?
—
The PRIEST with sorrow and surprize,
ook as he gazed upon the Woman,
nd cold sweat stood upon his brow from Detestation and abhorrence.—
CYMON supporting ELLEN on his Arm, food trembling, like wither'd leaves, moved by November's blasts.
—
'Tis all an Artifice, JENNETTA, quick replies—'tis all a plot to terrify my father from his purposes, and working on his passions and his Love, with fictious Malady and feign'd distress; to gain his MARIANNE—to gain from his relenting Parents thei
consent, that his infatuations and hi
feelings, inordinate and wild, ma
gain their Gratification—impossibl
that such a thing as Love, could wor
such tumults in the human frame pervert the reason of the Mind, betray the principles from honour an
Obedience; and full of vehemen
like Madness bound in Chains, brin
on Extravagance of Passion, burstin
blood-vessels, and destroying all th
frames oeconomy with fever and di
traction—this must be Witchcraf
—EMMA old in Sin, and with t
Devil holding her Commune, ha
power upon the Man—sure they sustain them by their Sorcery—their Poverty is wretched—and Witches we have heard, have fill'd despighted Infants full of Pins—have given the malice marked Maid to languish—the Youth to rave—the Herds in murrain slain—the Flocks with rottenness—the Winds have rent the roofs of Cottages, and let in torturing Sprights—the Rivulets have shriek'd, and flow'd with sheets of flame: and mischief hath prevail'd against the Peasants prayers—Spectres have set the Shepherds hair upright, and ratling Pewter and disturbed Chains, have terrified the Villagers for many Night.
—
ALCIRIS lifting up his trembling ha
and tear-fill'd Eye, sent up his though
to Heaven, breath'd on a Sigh.
Alarmed with JENNETTA'S talk, o
ELLEN gaped with fright, and Ign
rance glared in her open Eye—CYMO
disapproving of her cruel talk, turne his face away.—
The pious ANTHONY could not endu
the slanderous Tale; but interruptin
JENNET, thus rebuked her.—
If JENNET know not what is Love, she ought not to condemn that which she cannot judge of—sure tho' her form was molden in the hands of sad mischance, and Nature with such Nagligence, had her existence given; I should have thought the Organs of her sense, might have afforded passage to her soul, for feelings such as human Creatures have in common—but as in outward form distorted, so in her inward make, her soul is occupied in Organs as deformed, denying an Existence to the heart-felt sympathizings of Humanity, to tender-eyed Compassion, to Charity of open Soul, to sisterly Affection—for to an Enemy none but Savages deny the Consolations craved by dying Men—to support her cruelty she trespasses upo
the dark credulity of her infatuate Parents with untruths: and to instigate their Minds to hatred doth traduce the fairest Characters with foule
Crimes—if there is Witchcraft in superior VIRTUES? EMMA owns th
Charge—if there is Sorcery in WISDOM? if there is Sin in PRUDENCE? i
there are Crimes in PATIENCE, and i
RESIGNATION? EMMA is guilty—a
way JENNETTA with such Sins as thes
—the Eye of Heaven is on thee—th
brother's Soul is now required of him; and his Condemnations will e'er long, touch sorrowing Seraphs and the Ear of Judgment—tremble JENNETTA for the wrath to come.
—
JENNETTA'S Countenance was red with Wrath; and nothing but the sacred character of ANTHONY secured him from her Violence.—
—
AVARICE is blind as MALICE. JENNETTA says, that MARIANNE is poor—true, she in Infancy had tasted of Adversity's imbitter'd Cup—but God regards the virtuous—the ways of Providence are to the human Mind unsearchable: and in Heaven's good time, its wondrous works are brought to pass—for hitherto the name of EMMA, her family and fortunes were unknown—discoveries fair dawn appears, and opens out prosperities bright day to MARIANNE—for she perhaps, before this hour is pass'd, will be as superior to CYMON'S son, in wealth; as CYMON'S Son was estimated to exceed poor EMMA'S daughter.
—
Amazement gather'd on the face of CYMON, and ELLEN'S bowels yearn'd.—
—
For e'er I heard of your ALCIRIS'S woe, OLISSUS, Lord of these Demesnes, was with me in my Church-yard walking thro' the Yews.
JENNETTA with a sneer exclaims, and she will wed OLISSUS.
—
—
Pray restrain thy envy JENNET, (says the Priest) OLISSUS loves the Maid; but in her history he hath acquired some secret which prevent his Wish for Wedlock.
—
—"Her Vices" (JENNET cries.) —
Deep sigh'd ALCIRIS, uneasy turn'd
n on his bed, and wept. CYMON im
tient of the Tale, presaged a wealthy Wife would save ALCIRIS.—
Good ANTHONY, tho' arm'd wit
patience and the Christian Virtues, exclaims,—
Thou Serpent get thee fort —thy hiss hath poison in it for th
Soul—no CYMON, no ALCIRIS, fai
MARIANNE hath not a stain upon he
PRUDENCE, or a shade to cast upo
her VIRTUE—OLISSUS is a Man discreet, and with precaution makes resolves—he whispered to me, no on
knows this Maid, but I—and to reveal a secret to her Ear of such importance, calls upon the incest Judgment and the greatest Care—I know her family—I know her fortunes— hear she loves a Swain of low estate; and I will make them wealthy.
—
As if an Oracle had touch'd the Ear of some ambitious Devotee, and with the fall of Empires, flatter'd his desire,
tood CYMON stooping on his half-bent knees, extending both his Arms, and gaping with impatiency of Joy.—
ALCIRIS with a groan replies,
It cannot be—for Death will sever us— I feel his cold hand freezes on my nerves; rapid Tides of ruin flood upon my broken heart—and Fate advances my inevitable doom.
—
—JENNETTA left the room.—
—ELLEN in lamentations loud affect Love, but felt alone the fear, of losi
so much wealth with her ALCIRIS.
—
Whether my MARIANNE be po
or rich, my love for her with my li
blood lives—my love for her will only die with me—Oh! Father, in Compassion to my Woes, let me on MARIANNE but fix my dying Eyes, smile shall mock the frowns of fate; and t
the Throne of Grace, from my exp
ring breath I'll send to Heaven a praye
for CONSOLATION, and the pardon o
your God, to bless your latest hour.
CYMON endured a strange conflict in his Mind, touched at once with Love for his ALCIRIS, and the desire of rich OLISSUS's gifts—his stubborn heart re
ented.—
The pious ANTHONIE assumes the solemn duty, and seeks the COTT OF EMMA, to escort the weeping MARIANNE.
SATURDAY.
Is full of the Catastrophe.
THE morning wakes the pious ANTHONIE—he walks to EMMA's COT, and calls the mourning MARIANNE abroad—with gentle converse he at first insinuates to her mind an apprehension of the sickness of ALCIRIS, and with gradual cautions tells the import of his Visit—she heard his Tale with tears, and hasted to behold her well-loved Swain.
As they pass on, thus she entertain'd the Priest—
Here by this Elm I often sat, to taste Tranquillity, and think of that Peace which I enjoy'd, before e'er Love had mov'd my youthful heart, or wishes of ambitious tendency, to bless my Lover, stole upon my Mind: possess'd of all necessity required, I knew CONTENT—but with my wretchedness I will not wound your Mind
—
—
this Elm reminds me of the Pain I suffer'd, thro' my Compassion for a little Wren—and little as the Object was, it caus'd me, with a thousand tears, to think of my dear Mother; and to feel the supposition, that the Case might once be her's.
—
—
Within a little Cell, a Wren had built her nest; as every day I sat within her Eye, she grew familiar, as she grew assured, I was no foe—for every day I scatter'd Crumbs to feed the little pair—with pleasure I beheld their mutual Care and Assiduity, whilst they constructed all their pretty nest, and form'd the safe repository of the Eggs with which she teem'd—I often view'd his tenderness and Love, how he would play gay anticks on the bough, and chirm his wild Notes, to divert his incubating Mate—how he would peck the insect from the leaf, and with exulting Pinions bear the dainty to his Hen; o'er whose repast he sat with flutt'ring feathers, as if he tasted transport in her Appetite indulged—this daily pleasure I possess'd: but after all, as if the joys of human Minds were pre-ordain'd to be dash'd out, by disappointment's hand; as I was sitting there, a fullen Hawk with savage Eye decerned the Wren, and stooping, struck him with his cruel Tallons—the Hen perceiv'd the blow and screaming, left her nest—distra
tion throb'd within her little brea
her Eye-ball roll'd with frantic Wrat
and disappointed Love; and ever feather ruffled, stood upright, as s
beheld her dying Bird, and mourn
her widow'd Lot.
—
"Affecting was the Circumstance."—
—
It was distressful to me— wept and watch'd the Wren, and sa
her to her Nest retire, disconsolate a
sick with Woe—amidst the misery
Widowhood, she brooded o'er h
young yet unbrought forth; and f
of hunger and despondency, she st
fulfill'd the duties of her Nature, and hatch'd the little Creatures—tedious seem'd her duty; for, on her nest, she laid with hanging looks of wretched thought, and hopeless meditation— five little Wretches fill'd the tenement —Wretches I call them, for their misfortunes had existence e'er they had birth—their Father was no more!
—
—
Oh! MARIANNE, your tender Images at once delight and torture— (interrupts the Holy Man) the picture is so striking, that my Mind transports its sad Ideas to another Scene.
—
—
A parent Wren, (says she) can, give but small protection to his progeny —but Wrens have their proportion to their Enemies; and Man can nothing boast superior; for the wrath of Fortune, the enmity of an inveterate World, will ever be superior to the bravest Father of the human race.
—"A melancholy truth."—
—
Five little Wretches fill'd th
Nest—the Mother, in her tenderness and Care, absorb'd the Sorrows of he
Widowhood, and tasted hopes for he
small progeny—I saw her passage to an
fro in quest of food—I heard their Call
and her Reply, and saw her swift retur
when e'er their Voice express'd Calamity—and when she brought th
diet, o'er her brood with lapsing quivering Wing she hung, expressing the soft feelings of her Maternal Heart.
—
—
The birds were almost fledg'd and fit for flight—the Mother's assiduity was ripe for a reward, and often had she thought of leading forth her infant-train to Woods and Fountains, and the World of Liberty and Joy— when from yonder Village spoiling Boys, in cruel pastime rang'd the fields, in quest of hapless tenants of the Spray—they came—they ravaged all the labours of my Wren—despoil'd her Nest, and took the young ones forth.—In human minds what early strain of Cruelty appears!—Strang
disposition in the heart of Man! uncultivated and unpruned by Learning thou wouldst give the human race t
Forests and to Dens, as barbarous an
savage as the Tyger.
—
—
But of the Mother Wren— with food encumbred, home she cam
exulting in the labours of her flight— she found her Nest despoil'd, and rui
mark'd the havock made by sacriligious hands, in the destruction of Widow's house—distracted she sun
down, and in the dust expired.
The good Man gazed on MARIANNE with Eyes brim-full of tears—and MARIANNE look'd languishing and pale!—
—
Such is my Mother's fate, for Cruelty hath laid her Iron grasp upon my Life—I loved ALCIRIS with the purest Passion, and Happiness was in our View—but CYMON, of unfeeling Soul, of Nature like the Clod he tills, he tasting only Avarice, will slay us both.
—
—
Not so fair MARIANNE, (replied ANTONIE) for fortune dawns upon thee, and OLISSUS once a Lover, now thy friend, will give thee such a portion, as shall overshadow OLD CYMON's rankest boddings of Ambition.
—
—
Happy the hour which gave OLISSUS to the World (she cried)—bu
what is wealth to me, if my ALCIRIS dies—it is but dust to sprinkle on our Tombs.
—
The holy Man was smitten with he
Talk, for he was fearful of the young man's fate—he dared not weep, least his affliction should touch her troubled Spirit with increase of Woe—he smother'd in his breast the secret Sigh.—
They reach'd the the House of CYMON.—
The pious ANTHONIE conducted the sorrowing fair One to the sick Man's bed—he bow'd—he dropt a Tear, and quitted the room—the Parents now with true compunction stung, beheld the danger of their Child, and were smitten with freezing Terror and incessant grief —Self-condemnation gall'd their aching hearts, and many a fruitless Prayer they breath'd to angry Stars, for pardon of their sad Obduracy and sinful Avarice —unable to sustain the wretched scene, they both withdrew—JENNETTA only staid—and that no Vow, no Voice, might from her wicked Ear escape, fast at the sick Man's back she laid, to cut off all the tenderness which true Love's delicacy, hates should bear another's Eye.—
Fair MARIANNE sat on her Knees close by the sick Man's bed, and in her hands clasping his hand, she pray'd— her Voice was heard by Cherubims; her virtuous Prayer was wafted up to Heaven, where Angels with a Tear repeated— SPARE HIM GOOD LORD!—
—With ghastly smiles the Youth's diffigured Countenance was set—the clotted blood hung in his hair—deep in their sockets sunk his languid Eyes— his lips were scorching hot—his nostrils parch'd, and in a tumult beat the blood on every Artery—the Image which she oft had gazed on with delight, how wretchedly transform'd—her looks fix'd on his looks—with tears to tears— with sighs to sighs they mourn'd their Fate in Silence.—
JENNETTA like a Daemon lurk'd behind, and felt no impulse but inveteracy.—
ALCIRIS with a languid Voice breath'd out "MY MARIANNE:" and MARIANNE With her affliction choak'd, scarce utter'd to be heard, "Alas! my dear ALCIRIS," —dreadful Grief set all her Frame in torture—aching throbs affected her head —her heart was sick—her limbs wer
shook in burning Ague.—
Indulge us, dear JENNETTA, (says ALCIRIS,) and give us but a Moment to ourselves.
—JENNETTA was not moved—
—
Oh! MARIANNE, breaths out the Swain, oft interrupted by his Sighs, thy faithful Youth hath fallen amongst Murderers—inhuman Wretches, who rejoice in slaying every Comfort, which the heart can taste on Earth— Assassins of the Soul—Parents and Sister murdering a Son, a Brother—putting his Soul upon the rack, and wrenching out of Joint his Spirits sensibility.—
—
Alas! ALCIRIS replies the Maid, think not that the World permits existence to such Wickedness.— I bring thee Comfort—all the bar to our felicity is taken from us — to satiate thy Father's wishes, I come enrich'd—to thee I come endow'd with Virtue and the truest Love.
—
—
It is too late, cries he—the Act is perpetrated—my Death's wound has its seat within my heart; and Medicine and Hope are Vanities—I love thee, MARIANNE; and if an Angel did not tell me false, we soon shall have our Nuptials in the Tomb—ou
Souls they cannot sever—After Deat
their Tyranny cannot prevail agains
us.—
—
I love ALCIRIS, says MARIANNE with an equal fervor, I die with thee— I court the nuptial funeral—the joy o
spirits is infinite—in heaven alone is Justice—is Mercy—is festivity withou
alloy.—
On the hand of MARIANNE he press'd his burning lips — the flutter'd spirits overcame her strength—she fainted.—
—JENNETTA'S screams alarmed them all without—they bore the breathless Maiden forth—the fresh air in a little time restored her strength—but apprehensive that such Agitation would increase ALCIRIS'S Malady; they denied her re-admittance to the room.
Onward in the way, CYMON attends the mourning MARIANNE on her return —with silent steps she quits the Vale of Sorrow.—
—When left alone the wretched Maiden stray'd, in unknown paths, and wander'd in the Woods 'till Night drew on—the pale Moon from the broken Clouds, by intermissions gleam'd; and glancing through the trees, with many a shadow trim'd the solemn Grove, and many a pale shine cast; that to the frighted Eye, of fanciful dejection, often stood the semblance of sad Spectres, and the Ghost of her ALCIRIS, haunted every Glade—whilst boding birds shriek'd from the ivy'd Shade, and hooted out misfortunes dire presage.—
During this absence of the Maid, OLISSUS to poor EMMA'S COTTAGE hasten'd, impatient to relate his knowledge of her Family.—
Dejected, EMMA sat, and mused upon the melancholy Scene, of which her MARIANNE was then a Visitor.—
—
Let me salute my Sister, and my Friend,
OLISSUS cries—and fell upon the astonish'd EMMA'S neck!—
—"What means my Lord," the Widow enclasp'd in his Arms, scarce utter'd from the strange profusion of his kisses —she trembled as he held her to his bosom.—
—
Thy surprize, dear MATRON, is not yet arrived to its pitch (cries he) —Good EMMA, look upon me—in OLISSUS you behold, the brother of AMINTOR.
—
—Tears dim'd the Matron's Eyes; Astonishment was big within her heart.—
—
I was more fortunate than thy beloved Husband.—I was bred a Merchant—to foreign Climes in early youth transported, I remained a Stranger to my father's house for forty years— when I returned, alas! my Father was no more!—his mansion and his lands were possess'd by others—your AMINTOR was dead—and I (presumed the last remains of all my Family), Here fix'd my residence, in rural Ease, to take Enjoyment of the Wealth my industry acquired—the hand of Providence pointed out dear MARIANNE— her Innocence and beauty taught me Love—her History reveal'd, despoil'd my Marriage-bed, but gave to me a Neice whom I rejoice to honour.
—The happy Event overcame the Strength of EMMA, she was ready to expire with Joy.—
—OLISSUS saw the strong emotions of her Soul, in her fainting looks, and led her to the Air.—
—
There is a rumour that your MARIANNE'S enamour'd of a meritorious Youth, whose avaritious Father interferes, and stays their Happiness— I'll send to CYMON and promote the Match, and with her give a dowry equal to his Wishes.
—
—
Alas! my Lord, (replies EMMA) that Youth from disappointed Love lies sick; and now is visited by MARIANNE.
—
—
We'll send him comfort instantly (says he)—for time in Love forlorn, amidst the languishing of hopelesness, is often precious beyond Estimation—we'll hasten MARIANNE's return, nor longer let her ling'ring fears prevail, but cheer her Soul with Consolation, and the knowledge of her Fortune.
—
OLISSUS scarce had utter'd these last words, when breathless, and in haste, the fair One enter'd.—
DISTRACTION stood upon her wand'ring looks, and sported with her smiles—
little Butterfly sat on her hand, to which she held discourse, in frantick phraze regardless of OLISSUS, and the
hrieks of her affrighted Mother—her Cloaths were all disorder'd, and in her hair were plaited roses mix'd with Ivy leaves.—
—Struck with the sad disastrous Spectacle, distress'd with disappointed Views of his benevolence, OLISSUS sunk his face towards the Earth, and o'er his manly Countenance the bigh tear tumbled.—
—EMMA fell upon her Couch and hld her face.—
—
See here, cries MARIANNE— this little flutt'ring Insect here—it is a Butterfly you say—you see not what it is—for outward forms deceive us— Providence hath cast deception on the face of every thing—I thought OLISSUS was a lover once, but he's unmasked, and stands bereft of his disguise, a very Man.
—
—
Pretty little painted thing—I know full well of what thou camest, and what thou art—I saw thee in thy mortal State, a Caterpillar, breathing breath of animal Existence; and sustaining life with herbs and flowers.— Mankind, like thee, in this terrestrial State, superior Animals, subsisting on the vegitation of the Earth, crawl out a life of larger Caterpillars, Reptiles more noxious.— And when old Age and full accomplish'd time had brought thee to the solemn Period which closes every breathing Being, I beheld thee laid enshrowded in thy Chrisalis, and given to the Tomb—then in an other Season from the realms of Death thou 'rose, dress'd in these beauteous plumes, array'd in dust of Gold, and winged as the Cherubs with celestial Beauty; Aether thy Element; thou wing'd thy way, above the drowsy haunts of thy primeval State—such, such is Man— true Emblem of Humanity—true Emblem of the three Estates of human Race—fair Monitor for MARIANNE—Preceptor, teaching confidence, of Resurrection—pointing her to Joys, of whose Attainment she already stands upon the brink.
—
She ceas'd—OLISSUS with endearing phraze, attempted to calm her wand'ring Senses—but in vain—for all was disconcerted—all was wild and wretched.—
—EMMA could not bear to look upon on her miserable Daughter—OLISSUS burst into a flood of Tears.—
—Whilst witnessing her frantick fancies, EMMA with OLISSUS sorrowing sat —the Solemn Sound of Death-bell, down the Vale, repeatedly knell'd— the breezes on their sighing Bosoms bore the fatal Tale—they touch'd the startled Ear of MARIANNE—forth from the COT she ran, to listen to the Voice which told the Mortal Tale—six'd as the Marble which adorns the Monument, with the pale Effigy of weeping VIRTUE, stood the Maid attentive, motionless, and sad.—
—At length she started—exclaim'd.
He's gone! he's gone! ALCIRIS is no more!
—
—Then down she sunk, upon the dewey Flowers, and yielded up her Soul to Heaven.—
ONE TOMB receiv'd the faithful PAIR, and tells to after times, THEY DIED FOR LOVE!
FINIS.
ERRATA.
PAGE 1. line 5. for
Plaud
read
Plan'd.
— 8. last line for
Meditation
read
Wisdom
— 67. line 11. for
interrepts
read
interrupts
— 99. line 8. for
bord
read
board
— 133. line 1. for
fo,
read
for
— 145. line 6. for
elapting
read
elapsing
— 152. line 15. for
her
read
the
— 190. line 13. for
incest
read
nicest.