The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P Part 4

Soft voice, fair face, I hear, I see ye still!

Shades and dim echoes from the blissful hill Behind me left, to cast but darkness o'er The waste slow-lengthening to the grave before!

"So Love was born. With love invention came; I won my entrance, but conceal'd my name.

A village priest her father, poor and wise, In aught that clears to mortal sight the skies, But blind and simple as a child to all The things that pa.s.s upon the earth we crawl; The mask'd Lothario to his eyes appear'd A student youth, by Alma Mater rear'd The word to preach, the hunger to endure, And see Ambition close upon a Cure;-- A modest youth, who own'd his learning slight, And brought his taper to the master's light.

This tale believed, the good man's harmless pride Was pleased the bashful neophyte to guide: Spread out his books, and, moved to pity, press'd The backward pupil to the daily guest.

"So from a neighbouring valley, where they deem My home, each noon I cross the happy stream, And hail the eyes already watchful grown, And clasp the hand that trembles in my own; But not for guilt had I conceal'd my name, The young warm pa.s.sion nursed no thought of shame; The spell that bound enn.o.bled while it charm'd, And Romeo's love Lothario's guile disarm'd; And vain the guile had been!--impure desire Round that chaste light but hover'd to expire: Her angel nature found its own defence, Ev'n in the instincts of its innocence; As that sweet plant which opens every hue Of its frank heart to eyes content to view, But folds its leaves and shrinks in coy disdain From the least touch that would the bloom profane.

Link'd with the woman's Meekness, side by side, Stood, not to lose but guard the angel, Pride; Pride, with the s.h.i.+eld for honour, not the heart, Sacred from stain, not proof against the dart.

Brief,--then, such love it was my lot to win As sways a life to every grief but--sin.

V.

"Yet in the light of day to win and wed, To boast a bride, yet not to own a shed; To doom the famine, yet proclaim the bliss, And seal the ruin in the nuptial kiss;-- Love shunn'd such madness for the loved one's sake; What course could Prudence sanction Love to take?

Lenient I knew my kinsman to a vice; But, oh, to folly Cato less precise!

And all my future, in my kinsman bound, Shadow'd his humours--smiled in him or frown'd; But uncles still, however high in state, } Are mortal men--and Youth has hope to wait, } And Love a conqueror's confidence in Fate.-- } A secret Hymen reconciled in one Caution and bliss--if Mary could be won?

Hard task!--I said it was my lot to win Sway o'er a life for grief;--this was not sin.

To her I told my name, rank, doubts, and fears, And urged the prayer too long denied with tears-- 'Reject'st thou still,' I cried, 'well, then to me The pride to offer all life holds to thee; I go to tell my love, proclaim my choice-- Clasp want, mar fate, meet ruin, and rejoice, So that, at least, when next we meet, thy sigh Shall own this truth--"He better loved than I."'

"With that, her hand upon my own she laid, Look'd in my eyes--the sacrifice was made; Alas, she had no mother!--Nature moved That heart to this--she trusted, for she loved!

"I had a friend of lowlier birth than mine, The sunnier spot allured the trailing vine.

My rising fortunes had the southern air, And fruit might bless the plant that clamber'd there.

My smooth Cla.n.a.lbin!--shrewd, if smooth, was he, His soul was prudent, though his life was free; Scapin to serve, and Machiavel to plot, Red-hair'd, thin-lipp'd, sly, supple,--and a Scot!

To him the double project I confide, To cloak the rite, and yet to clasp the bride; Long he resisted--solemnly he warn'd, And urged the perils love had seen and scorn'd.

At length subdued, he groan'd a slow consent, And pledged a genius practised to invent.

A priest was found--a license was procured, Due witness hired, and secrecy a.s.sured; All this his task:--'tis o'er;--and Mary's life Bound up in one who dares not call her wife!

"Alas--alas, why on the fatal brink Of the abyss--doth not the instinct shrink?

The meaner tribe the coming storm foresees-- In the still calm the bird divines the breeze-- The ox that grazes shuns the poison-weed-- The unseen tiger frights afar the steed-- To man alone no kind foreboding shows The latent horror or the ambush'd foes; O'er each blind moment hangs the funeral pall, Heaven s.h.i.+nes, earth smiles--and night descends on all!

"But I!--fond reader of imagined skies, Foretold my future in those stars--her eyes!

O heavenly Moon, circling with magic hues And mystic beauty all thy beams suffuse, Is not in love thine own fair secret seen?

Love smooths the rugged--love exalts the mean: Love in each ray inspires the hush'd alarm, Love silvers every shadow into charm.

VI.

"O lonely beech, beneath whose bowering shade The tryst, encircling Paradise, was made, How the heart heard afar the hurrying feet, And swell'd to breathless words--'At last we meet!'

But Autumn fades--dark Winter comes, and then Fate from Elysium calls me back to men; We part!--not equal is the anguish;--she Parts with all earth in that farewell to me; For not the grate more bars the veiled nun From the fair world with which her soul has done, Than love the heart, that vows, without recall, To one,--fame, honour, memory, hope, and all!

But I!--behold me in the dazzling strife, The gaud, the pomp, the joyous roar of life,-- Man, with man's heart insatiate, ever stirr'd By the crowd's breath to conflict with the herd; Which never long one thought alone can sway,-- The dream fades from us when we leap to-day.

New scenes surround me, new ambitions seize,-- All life one fever,--who defy disease?-- Each touch contagion:--living with the rest, The world's large pulse keeps time in every breast.

Yet still for her--for her alone, methought, Its web of schemes the vulgar labour wrought: To ransom fate--to soar, from serfdom, free, Snap the strong chains of high-born penury; And, grown as bold to earth as to the skies, Proclaim the bliss of happy human ties:-- So, ever scheming, the soothed conscience deem'd!

Fate smiled, and speeded all for which I schemed.

My n.o.ble kinsman saw with grave applause My sober'd moods, too wise to guess the cause.

''Tis well,' said he, one evening; 'you have caught From me the ardour of the patriot's thought; No more distinguish'd in the modes of vice, Forsworn the race-course, and disdain'd the dice: A n.o.bler race, a mightier game await The soul that sets its cast upon the state.

Thoughtful, poor, calm, yet eager; such, in truth, He who is great in age should be in youth, Lo, your commencement!'

"And my kinsman set Before the eyes it brighten'd--the Gazette!

Oh, how triumphant, Calendar of Fame!

Halo'd in type, emerged the aspirant's name!

"'We send you second to a court, 'tis true; Small, as befits a diplomat so new,'

Quoth my wise kinsman: 'but requiring all Your natural gifts;--to rise not is to fall!

And harkye, stripling, you are handsome, young, Active, ambitious, and from statesmen sprung!

_Wed_ well--add wealth to power by me possess'd, And sleep on roses,--I will find the rest!

But one false step,--pshaw, boy! I do not preach Of saws and morals, his own code to each,-- By one false step, I mean one foolish thing, And the wax melts, my Icarus, from your wing!

Let not the heart the watchful mind betray,-- Enough!--no answer!--sail the First of May!'

"Here, then, from vapour broke at last the sun!

Station, career, fame, fortune, all begun!

Now, greater need than ever to conceal The secret spring that moved the speeding wheel; And half forgetting that I wish'd forgot, Each thought divides the absent from my lot.

One night, escaped my kinsman's hall, which blazed With dames who smiled, and garter'd peers who praised, I seek my lonely home,--ascend the stair,-- Gain my dim room,--what stranger daunts me there?

A grey old man!--I froze his look before; } The Gorgon's eye scarce fix'd its victim more,-- } The bride's sad father on the bridegroom's floor! } In the brief pause, how terrible and fast, As on the drowning seaman, rush'd the past!

How had he learn'd my name,--abode,--the tie That bound?--for all spoke lightning in his eye.

Lo, on the secret in whose darkness lay Power, future, fortune, pour'd the hateful ray!

Thus silence ceased.

"'When first my home you deign'd To seek, what found you?--cheeks no tears had stain'd!

Untroubled hearts, and conscience clear as day: And lips that loved, where now they fear, to pray: 'Twixt kin and kin, sweet commune undefiled-- The grateful father--the confiding child!

What now that home?--behold! its change may speak In hair thus silver'd--in this furrow'd cheek!

My child'--(he paused, and in his voice, not eyes, Tears seek the vent indignant pride denies) 'My child--G.o.d pardon me!--I was too proud To call her "daughter!"--what shall call the crowd?

Man--man, she cowers beneath a Father's eye, And shuns his blessing--with one wish to die; And I that death-bed will resign'd endure If--speak the word--the soul that parts is pure?'

"'Who dares deny it?' I began, but check'd In the warm burst--cold wisdom hiss'd--'Reflect; Thy fears had outstripp'd truth--as yet unknown, The vows, the bond!--are these for thee to own?'

The father mark'd my pause, and changing cheek, 'Go on!--why falter if the truth thou speak?'

"Who dares deny it?"--Thou!--thy lip--thine eye-- Thy heart--thy conscience--_these_ are what deny?

O Heaven, that I were not thy priest!'

"His look Grew stern and dark--the natural Adam shook The reverend form an instant;--like a charm The pious memory stay'd the lifted arm; And shrunk to self-rebuke the threatening word, 'Man's not my weapons--I thy servant, Lord!'

Moved, I replied--'Could love suffice alone } In this hard world,--the love to thee made known, } A bliss to cherish, 'twere a pride to own: } And if I pause, and if I falter--yet I hide no shame, I strive with no regret.

Believe mine honour--wait the ripening hour; Time hides the germ, the season brings the flower.'

Wildly he cried--'What words are these?--but one Sentence I ask--her sire should call thee _son_!

Hist, let the heavens but hear us!--in her life Another lives--if pure she is thy wife!

Now answer!'

I had answer'd, as became The native manhood and the knightly name; But shall I own it? the suspicious chill, The world-wise know, froze up the arrested will.

Whose but _her_ lips, sworn never to betray, Had fail'd their oath, and dragg'd my name to day?

True, she had left the veil upon the shrine, But set the snare to make confession mine.

Thus half resentment, half disdain, repell'd The man's frank justice, and the truth withheld.

Yet, so invoked, I scorn'd at least the lie, And met the question with this proud reply:-- 'If thou dost doubt thy child, depart secure, My love is sinless, and her soul is pure.

This by mine honour, and to Heaven, I swear!

Dost thou ask more?--then bid thy child declare; What she proclaims as truth, myself will own; What she withholds, alike I leave unknown; What she demands, I am prepared to yield; Now doubt or spurn me--but my lips are seal'd.'

I ceased, and stood with haughty mien and eye, That seem'd all further question to defy; He gazed, as if still spell'd in hope or fear, And hungering for the word that fail'd the ear.

At last, and half unconscious, in the thrall Of the cold awe, he groan'd--

'And is this all?

Courage, poor child--there may be justice yet-- Justice, Heaven, justice!'