Part 4 (1/2)
Just then he saw a scornful sneer Upon Dan Cupid's face appear; While courtiers whispered with a grin, ”Poor fellow, he'll be taken in!
The finest birds are always shy, The rarest at a distance fly, And Reason cannot soar so high.”
”Aye, you may laugh, to prove her mind At once exalted and refined, I'll watch her skill in music's art; By ear and fingers judge the heart, And then it will not be believ'd I can be easily deceiv'd.
I only grieve that in my prime I've wasted so much precious time, For long ere this I might have married, Had I not so unwisely tarried, And vex'd my brains in looking round For that which never could be found.”
”And would'st thou wish,” the monarch cried, ”To set our gentle laws aside?
Thou hast no friend in Common Sense, In such affairs she thinks it wisest, To stand aside without pretence, And sanction laws which thou despisest.
But try the plan, it merits praise, Success may crown its winning ways!
The lady must be blind indeed, With whom such offers of neglect, And cool, habitual disrespect Would not succeed.
But come no longer here to flout us, Since, truly, thou canst do without us; For dignity is lost in sport, An outlaw for contempt of court; We banish thee with all thy pride Until thy heart be rarified.”
XIX.
ABSENCE.
_Written in Derbys.h.i.+re, by the same Friend._
When recollection brings to mind, The kindred ties I've left behind, The converse gentle and refin'd, I grieve!
Deep the regret, the pain extreme, And yet I fondly love the dream, And find the sad, delightful theme Relieve.
It bids all present forms decay, All present feelings fade away; Impeding distance, long delay Are o'er!
Fancy, so active in the gloom, Till some one enters in the room, Can all the images of home Restore.
Alas! when weeks, and months are past, Shall I that home behold at last, Which even the dark clouds overcast Endear?
Lest one of all the cares that dart Like arrows round each thoughtful heart, May pierce ere then some vital part I fear!
XX.
_On reading in Savary's Travels the death of Ali Bey, who, it is there represented, in the midst of enlightened and benevolent efforts to benefit his country, was repeatedly betrayed, and at length taken captive by his brother-in-law, whom he had advanced and loved, and who, till the very last, he could not believe to be his enemy_.
O generous Ali! while thy fate inspires Indignant pity, with a patriot's fires, I mourn for Egypt, and with equal zeal, For her, for thee, and ruin'd science feel: Admire the confidence my heart deplores And blame the weakness it almost adores!
Pride of thy race! before my mental eyes, I see thee, like another Alfred rise; See honour splendent on thy ample brow, While Thought and Genius fill the orbs below; Those beaming orbs! where lofty sweetness shone, And where the soul sate smiling on her throne: Depriv'd too soon of that benignant ray, Which impious Dahab shudder'd to survey.
Pale, bleeding, conquer'd, dying, and forlorn, I see thee view the wretch with silent scorn!
See thy cheek flush at the false tears he shed, And proudly turn away the languid head, With mingled anger, sorrow, and disdain, That he should dare to tempt thy love again!
Oh! yet within the tent I see thee lie, The victor, like a coward, crouching by; O'erawed, rebuked, and humbled in the hour, The plenitude of his success and power!
A pain the guilty never make us know, In all the miseries they cause below; A pain which they in every triumph feel, A humbling sense no glory yet could heal, The want of conscious worth, the poignant thought, That inwardly sets all pretence at naught!
That curbs all self-applause--tears all disguise-- When the subdued, the ruin'd can _despise_; And, in the arms of death, can yet be free, To say, ”Let me be any thing but thee!”