Full joyful 'tis a soul to win, For he that winneth souls is wise; "Pilgrim, burden'd with thy sin, Hark! it is the Bridegroom's voice; Safe and seal'd, and bought and bless'd! "Holy Pilgrim! what for thee But though my day of grace was come, The brave Sir Eustace is no more: Stern, rugged men my conduct view; They chide my wish, they bar my door, Tis hard-I weep-yon see I do. Must you, my friends, no longer stay? My kind physician and his friend: It has been suggested to me, that this change from restlessness to repose, in the mind of Sir Eustace, is wrought by a methodistic call; and it is admitted to be such a sober and rational conversion could not have happened while the disorder of the brain continued: yet the verses which follow, in a different measure, are not intended to make any religious persuasion appear ridiculous; they are to be supposed as the effect of memory in the disordered mind of the speaker, and, though evidently enthusiastic in respect to language, are not meant to convey any impropriety of sentiment. VISITER. The poor Sir Eustace!-Yet his hope His views of heavenly kind remain :- PHYSICIAN. No! for the more he swell'd with pride, The more he felt misfortune's blow; Disgrace and grief he could not hide, And poverty had laid him low: Thus shame and sorrow working slow, At length this humble spirit gave; Madness on these began to grow, And bound him to his fiends a slave. Though the wild thoughts had touch'd his brain Then was he free: so, forth he ran; To soothe or threat, alike were vain : He spake of fiends, look'd wild and wan; Year after year, the hurried man Obey'd those fiends from place to place; Till his religious change began To form a frenzied child of grace. For, as the fury lost its strength, The mind reposed; by slow degrees Came lingering hope, and brought at length, To the tormented spirit, ease: This slave of sin, whom fiends could seize, But ah! though time can yield relief, To have our reason sound and sure? And bend the mind to meet distress; VAGRANT. My crime! This sickening child to feed, I seized the food, your witness saw; I knew your laws forbade the deed, But yielded to a stronger law. Know'st thou, to Nature's great command All human laws are frail and weak? Nay! frown not-stay his eager hand, And hear me, or my heart will break. In this, th' adopted babe I hold With anxious fondness to my breast, My heart's sole comfort I behold, More dear than life, when life was bless'd; I saw her pining, fainting, cold, I begg'd-but vain was my request. I saw the tempting food, and seized- But I have griefs of other kind, Troubles and sorrows more severe; Give me to ease my tortured mind, Lend to my woes a patient ear; And let me if I may not find A friend to help-find one to hear. Yet nameless let me plead-my name Would only wake the cry of scorn; A child of sin, conceived in shame, Brought forth in wo, to misery born. My mother dead, my father lost, I wander'd with a vagrant crew; A common care, a common cost, Their sorrows and their sins I knew; With them, by want on error forced, Like them, I base and guilty grew. Few are my years, not so my crimes; And I am old in shame and care. Taught to believe the world a place Where every stranger was a foe, Train'd in the arts that mark our race, To what new people could I go? Could I a better life embrace, Or live as virtue dictates? No! So through the land I wandering went, A sturdy youth he was and tall, His looks would all his soul declare; His piercing eyes were deep and small, And strongly curl'd his raven hair. Yes, Aaron had each manly charm, All in the May of youthful pride, Oft, when they grew in anger warm, His father was our party's chief, And dark and dreadful was his look; His presence fill'd my heart with grief, Although to me he kindly spoke. With Aaron I delighted went, His favour was my bliss and pride; In growing hope our days we spent, Love growing charms in either spied, It saw them, all which Nature lent, It lent them, all which she denied. Could I the father's kindness prize, Or grateful looks on him bestow, Whom I beheld in wrath arise, When Aaron sunk beneath his blow? You frown again,-to show my wrong, MAGISTRATE. I hear thy words, I feel thy pain: For, though seduced and led astray, PART II. Quondam ridentes oculi, nunc fonte perenni MAGISTRATE. COME, now again thy woes impart, Tell all thy sorrows, all thy sin; We cannot heal the throbbing heart Till we discern the wounds within. Compunction weeps our guilt away, The sinner's safety is his pain; Such pangs for our offences pay, And these severer griefs are gain. VAGRANT. The son came back-he found us wed, Then dreadful was the oath he swore ;His way through Blackburn Forest led,His father we beheld no more. (Yes! we were wed, I know my crime,- For he not yet had felt the pain That rankles in a wounded breast; He waked to sin, then slept again, Forsook his God, yet took his rest.— But I was forced to feign delight, And joy in mirth and music sought,- When waking on my heaving breast A chilling terror stopp'd my breath. I seem'd-no words can utter how! I trembled at the dismal sounds, But vainly strove a word to say; I brought a lovely daughter forth, His father's child, in Aaron's bed; He took her from me in his wrath, "Where is my child ?"—" Thy child is dead." "Twas false.-We wander'd far and wide, I then was young :-my husband sold The slave, but not the friend of vice :- The wretch who lent me thus for gain, Despised me when my youth was fled, Then came disease, and brought me pain:Come, death, and bear me to the dead' For though I grieve, my grief is vain, And fruitless all the tears I shed. The state of mind here described will account for a vision of this nature, without having recourse to any su pernatural appearance. True, I was not to virtue train'd, Yet well I knew my deeds were ill; By each offence my heart was pain'd, I wept, but I offended still; My better thoughts my life disdain'd, But yet the viler led my will. My husband died, and now no more Beneath a vagrant's vile command. Ceaseless I roved the country round, Though poor, and abject, and despised; And promised wealth to bless the old; Schemes for the doubtful I devised, And charms for the forsaken sold. At length for arts like these confined I soon perceived a kindred mind, His father's child, whom Aaron gave To wander with a distant clan, The miseries of the world to brave, And be the slave of vice and man. She knew my name-we met in pain, This is that heir to shame, and pain, Yet, could I bear to see her die, Or stretch her feeble hands in vain, And, weeping, beg of me supply? No! though the fate thy mother knew Yet as the dark and muddy tide, Flows in a clear and happy course ; In thee, dear infant! so may end Our shame, in thee our sorrows cease! And thy pure course will then extend, In floods of joy, o'er vales of peace. O! by the God who loves to spare, Deny me not the boon I crave; Let this loved child your mercy share, And let me find a peaceful grave; Make her yet spotless soul your care, And let my sins their portion have ; Her for a better fate prepare, And punish whom 'twere sin to save! MAGISTRATE. Recall the word, renounce the thought, Command thy heart, and bend thy knee: There is to all a pardon brought, A ransom rich, assured, and free; "Tis full when found, 'tis found if sought, O! seek it, till 'tis seal'd to thee. VAGRANT. But how my pardon shall I know? MAGISTRATE. By feeling dread that 'tis not sent, By tears for sin that freely flow, By grief, that all thy tears are spent, By thoughts on that great debt we owe, With all the mercy God has lent, By suffering what thou canst not show, Yet showing how thine heart is rent, Till thou canst feel thy bosom glow, And say, "My Saviour, I repent!" WOMAN: "To a woman I never addressed myself in the language of decency and friendship, without receiving a decent and friendly answer. If I was hungry or thirsty, wet or sick, they did not hesitate, like men, to perform a generous action: in so free and kind a manner did they contribute to my relief, that if I was dry, I drank the sweetest draught; and if hungry, I ate the coarsest morsel with a double relish."-Mr. Ledyard, as quoted by M. Parke in his Travels into Africa. PLACE the white man on Afric's coast, And paint their very demons white : To soothe the woes they cannot feel, Woman will strive to heal his pains, And weep for those she cannot heal; Hers is warm pity's sacred glow; From all her stores, she bears a part, And bids the spring of hope re-flow, That languish'd in the fainting heart. "What though so pale his haggard face, So sunk and sad his looks," she cries; "And far unlike our nobler race, With crisped locks and rolling eyes; Yet misery marks him of our kind We see him lost, alone, afraid; And pangs of body, griefs in mind, Pronounce him man, and ask our aid. From some sad land the stranger comes, ""Tis good the fainting soul to cheer, In woman they compassion find; Man may the sterner virtues know, And woman holds affliction dear; And bid life's fairer views appear THAT all men would be cowards if they dare, |