And such a Man-so meek and unoffending- Helpless and harmless as a babe: a Man, By obvious signal to the world's protection, Solemnly dedicated-to decoy him !— Idon. Oh, had you seen him living!— Mar. I (so filled With horror is this world) am unto thee The thing most precious, that it now contains: Therefore through me alone must be revealed By whom thy Parent was destroyed, Idonea ! I have the proofs !—
Idon. Thou didst command me to bless all mankind; Nor to this moment, have I ever wished Evil to any living thing; but hear me, Hear me, ye Heavens !—(kneeling)—may venge- ance haunt the fiend
For this most cruel murder: let him live And move in terror of the elements; The thunder send him on his knees to prayer In the open streets, and let him think he sees, If e'er he entereth the house of God,
The roof, self-moved, unsettling o'er his head; And let him, when he would lie down at night, Point to his wife the blood-drops on his pillow! Mar. My voice was silent, but my heart hath joined thee.
A mortal malady.—I am accurst: All nature curses me, and in my heart Thy curse is fixed; the truth must be laid bare. It must be told, and borne. I am the man, (Abused, betrayed, but how it matters not) Presumptuous above all that ever breathed, Who, casting as I thought a guilty Person Upon Heaven's righteous judgment, did become An instrument of Fiends. Through me, through me. Thy Father perished. Idon.
Perished-by what mischance? Mar. Beloved!-if I dared, so would I call thee- Conflict must cease, and, in thy frozen heart, The extremes of suffering meet in absolute peace. [He gives her a letter.
Idon. (reads) 'Be not surprised if you hear that some signal judgment has befallen the man who calls himself your father; he is now with me, as his signature will shew: abstain from conjecture till you see me.
The writing Oswald's; the signature my Father's: (Looks steadily at the paper) And here is yours,— or do my eyes deceive me?
You have then seen my Father? Mar.
Idon. (leaning on MARMADUKE). Left to the Upon this arm.
mercy of that savage Man!
How could he call upon his Child!-0 Friend!
My faithful true and only Comforter. Mar. Ay, come to me and weep. (He kisses her.) (To ELDRED). Yes, Varlet, look,
The devils at such sights do clap their hands.
Too quickly moved, too easily giving way,
Idon. Thy vest is torn, thy cheek is deadly pale; I put denial on thy suit, and hence, Hast thou pursued the monster?
Mar. Oh! would that thou hadst perished in the flames ! Idon. Here art thou, then can I be desolate ?— Mar. There was a time, when this protecting hand Availed against the mighty; never more Shall blessings wait upon a deed of mine.
Idon. Wild words for me to hear, for me, an orphian,
Committed to thy guardianship by Heaven; And, if thou hast forgiven me, let me hope, In this deep sorrow, trust, that I am thine For closer care ;-here, is no malady.
Mar. There, is a malady(Striking his heart and forehead) And here, and here,
With the disastrous issue of last night, Thy perturbation, and these frantic words. Be calm, I pray thee !
I thought there was no harm: but that bad Man, He bribed me with his gold, and looked so fierce. Mercy! I said I know not what-oh pity me- I said, sweet Lady, you were not his Daughter- Pity me, I am haunted ;-thrice this day My conscience made me wish to be struck blind; And then I would have prayed, and had no voice. Idon. (to MARMADUKE). Was it my Father ?----
Was meek and patient, feeble, old and blind, Helpless, and loved me dearer than his life. -But hear me. For one question, I have a heart That will sustain me. Did you murder him? Mar. No, not by stroke of arm. But learn the process:
Proof after proof was pressed upon me ; guilt Made evident, as seemed, by blacker guilt, Whose impious folds enwrapped even thee; and truth And innocence, embodied in his looks,
His words and tones and gestures, did but serve With me to aggravate his crimes, and heaped Ruin upon the cause for which they pleaded. Then pity crossed the path of my resolve: Confounded, I looked up to Heaven, and cast, Idonea! thy blind Father, on the Ordeal Of the bleak Waste-left him-and so he died!— [IDONEA sinks senseless; Beggar, ELEANOR, &c., crowd round, and bear her off.
Why may we speak these things, and do no more; Why should a thrust of the arm have such a power, And words that tell these things be heard in vain? She is not dead. Why !-if I loved this Woman, I would take care she never woke again; But she WILL wake, and she will weep for me, And say, no blame was mine-and so, poor fool, Will waste her curses on another name. [He walks about distractedly. Enter OSWALD.
OSWALD (to himself). Strong to o'erturn, strong [To MARMADUKE.
The starts and sallies of our last encounter
Were natural enough; but that, I trust, Is all gone by. You have cast off the chains
That fettered your nobility of mind- Delivered heart and head!
This is a paltry field for enterprise.
Mar. Ay, what shall we encounter next? This
Start not! Here is another face hard by ; Come, let us take a peep at both together, And, with a voice at which the dead will quake, Resound the praise of your morality— Of this too much.
[Drawing OSWALD towards the Cottage-stops short at the door.
Men are there, millions, Oswald, Who with bare hands would have plucked out thy heart
And flung it to the dogs: but I am raised Above, or sunk below, all further sense Of provocation. Leave me, with the weight Of that old Man's forgiveness on thy heart, Pressing as heavily as it doth on mine. Coward I have been; know, there lies not now Within the compass of a mortal thought,
A deed that I would shrink from ;-but to endure, That is my destiny. May it be thine : Thy office, thy ambition, be henceforth To feed remorse, to welcome every sting Of penitential anguish, yea with tears.
When seas and continents shall lie between us— The wider space the better-we may find In such a course fit links of sympathy, An incommunicable rivalship
Maintained, for peaceful ends beyond our view.
[Confused voices-several of the band enter-rush upon OSWALD and seize him.
One of them. I would have dogged him to the jaws of hell
Osw. Ha! is it so !-That vagrant Hag!—this
Of having left a thing like her alive! Several voices. Despatch him! Osw. If I pass beneath a rock And shout, and, with the echo of my voice, Bring down a heap of rubbish, and it crush me, I die without dishonour. Famished, starved, A Fool and Coward blended to my wish!
[Smiles scornfully and exultingly at MARMADUKE. Wal. 'Tis done! (stabs him.)
Another of the band. The ruthless Traitor! Mar. A rash deed!-
With that reproof I do resign a station Of which I have been proud.
Wil. (approaching MARMADUKE). O my poor Master!
Mar. Discerning Monitor, my faithful Wilfred, 'Twas nothing more than darkness deepening Why art thou here? [Turning to Wallace. darkness,
Wallace, upon these Borders,
And weakness crowned with the impotence of Many there be whose eyes will not want cause death!- To weep that I am gone. Brothers in arms! Your pupil is, you see, an apt proficient. (ironically). Raise on that dreary Waste a monument
That may record my story: nor let words- Few must they be, and delicate in their touch As light itself-be there withheld from Her Who, through most wicked arts, was made an orphan
By One who would have died a thousand times, To shield her from a moment's harm. To you, Wallace and Wilfred, I commend the Lady, By lowly nature reared, as if to make her In all things worthier of that noble birth, Whose long-suspended rights are now on the eve Of restoration with your tenderest care Watch over her, I pray-sustain her— Several of the band (eagerly). Mar. No more of that; in silence hear my doom:
A hermitage has furnished fit relief To some offenders; other penitents,
Less patient in their wretchedness, have fallen, Like the old Roman, on their own sword's point. They had their choice: a wanderer must I go, The Spectre of that innocent Man, my guide. No human ear shall ever hear me speak; No human dwelling ever give me food, Or sleep, or rest: but, over waste and wild, In search of nothing, that this earth can give, But expiation, will I wander on- A Man by pain and thought compelled to live, Yet loathing life-till anger is appeased
In Heaven, and Mercy gives me leave to die. 1795-6.
But how he will come, and whither he goes, There's never a scholar in England knows.
CHARACTERISTICS OF A CHILD THREE YEARS OLD.
LOVING she is, and tractable, though wild; And Innocence hath privilege in her To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes; And feats of cunning; and the pretty round Of trespasses, affected to provoke
Mock-chastisement and partnership in play. And, as a faggot sparkles on the hearth, Not less if unattended and alone
Than when both young and old sit gathered round
And take delight in its activity;
Even so this happy Creature of herself
Is all-sufficient; solitude to her
Is blithe society, who fills the air
With gladness and involuntary songs. Light are her sallies as the tripping fawn's Forth-startled from the fern where she lay couched ; Unthought-of, unexpected, as the stir
Of the soft breeze ruffling the meadow-flowers, Or from before it chasing wantonly The many-coloured images imprest Upon the bosom of a placid lake.
He will suddenly stop in a cunning nook, And ring a sharp 'larum ;-but, if you should look, There's nothing to see but a cushion of snow Round as a pillow, and whiter than milk, And softer than if it were covered with silk. Sometimes he 'll hide in the cave of a rock, Then whistle as shrill as the buzzard cock; -Yet seek him,-and what shall you find in the place?
Nothing but silence and empty space;
Save, in a corner, a heap of dry leaves, That he's left, for a bed, to beggars or thieves!
As soon as 'tis daylight to-morrow, with me You shall go to the orchard, and then you will see That he has been there, and made a great rout, And cracked the branches, and strewn them about; Heaven grant that he spare but that one upright
That looked up at the sky so proud and big
All last summer, as well you know, Studded with apples, a beautiful show!
Hark! over the roof he makes a pause,
And growls as if he would fix his claws Right in the slates, and with a huge rattle Drive them down, like men in a battle:
-But let him range round; he does us no harm, We build up the fire, we 're snug and warm ; Untouched by his breath see the candle shines bright, And burns with a clear and steady light; Books have we to read, but that half-stifled knell, Alas! 'tis the sound of the eight o'clock bell. -Come now we 'll to bed! and when we are there He may work his own will, and what shall we care? He may knock at the door,-we'll not let him in ; May drive at the windows,-we 'll laugh at his din; Let him seek his own home wherever it be ; Here's a cozie warm house for Edward and me. 1806.
DURING A BOISTEROUS WINTER EVENING.
WHAT way does the Wind come? What way does
He rides over the water, and over the snow, Through wood, and through vale; and, o'er rocky
Which the goat cannot climb, takes his sounding
He tosses about in every bare tree,
As, if you look up, you plainly may see;
A MONTH, Sweet Little-ones, is past Since your dear Mother went away,- And she to-morrow will return; To-morrow is the happy day.
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