He bribed me with his gold, and looked so fierce. me, Mercy! I said I know not what-oh pity And say no blame was mine-and so, poor me fool, 2275 I said, sweet Lady, you were not his Will waste her curses on another name. Daughter Pity me, I am haunted;-thrice this day My conscience made me wish to be struck blind; 2250 And then I would have prayed, and had no voice. [He walks about distractedly. Enter OSWALD. OSWALD (to himself). Strong to o'erturn, strong also to build up. [TO MARMADUKE. Idon. (to MARMADUKE). Was it my Fa- The starts and sallies of our last encounter 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 2255 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 2260 thee; and truth And innocence, embodied in his looks, chains That fettered your nobility of mind— Delivered heart and head! 2280 The wider space the better-we may find 2310 One of them. I would have dogged him to the jaws of hell To shield her from a moment's harm. To Wallace and Wilfred, I commend the By lowly nature reared, as if to make her 2336 Of restoration: with your tenderest care Osw. Ha! is it so!-That vagrant Watch over her, I pray-sustain her Hag!-this comes Of having left a thing like her alive! [Aside. 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, 2316 I die without dishonour. Famished, starved, A Fool and Coward blended to my wish! Wal. "Tis done! (stabs him). No human ear shall ever hear me speak; Wil. (approaching MARMADUKE). Omy But expiation, will I wander on- 2350 A Man by pain and thought compelled to live, poor Master! 2321 Mar. Discerning Monitor, my faithful Yet loathing life-till anger is appeased In Heaven, and Mercy gives me leave to die. OF CHILDHOOD. I. [Composed March 26, 1802-Published 1807.] Mr heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So be it when I shall grow old, The Child is father of the Man; II. TO A BUTTERFLY. [Composed March 14, 1802.-Published 1807.] STAY near me-do not take thy flight! A little longer stay in sight! Much converse do I find in thee, Historian of my infancy! Float near me; do not yet depart! Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art! 5 Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days, 10 Upon the prey;-with leaps and springs 15 III. THE SPARROW'S NEST. [Composed 1801.-Published 1807.] BEHOLD, within the leafy shade, Those bright blue eggs together laid! On me the chance-discovered sight Gleamed like a vision of delight. 5 ΙΟ [Composed April 28, 1802.-Published 1807.] Pull the primrose, sister Anne! Make your bed, or make your bower; Primroses, the Spring may love them→ 1 See Editor's Note, p. 897. 5 ΤΟ 15 20 Daisies ve no fruit behind When t pretty flowerets die; Pluck tm, and another year As mar will be blowing here. 1 God hɛgiven a kindlier power To theavoured strawberry-flower. Hithesoon as spring is fled You ad Charles and I will walk; Lurkig berries, ripe and red, Then will hang on every stalk, Each within its leafy bower; And for that promise spare t V. of -whe flower! CHARACTERISTICS OF A CHILD THREE YEARS OLD. [Composed 1811.-Published 1815.] 30 And, as a faggot sparkles on the hearth, Not less if unattended and alone ADDRESS TO A CHILD, DURING A BOISTEROUS WINTER EVENIN BY MY SISTER, [Composed 1806.-Published 1815.] WHAT way does the Wind come? Wh way does he go? He rides over the water, and over t snow, Through wood, and through vale; a He tosses about in every bare tree, Nothing but silence and empty space; Save, in a corner, a heap of dry leaves, Than when both young and old sit ga- That he's left, for a bed, to beggars o thered round 20 All last summer, as well you know, Studded with apples, a beautiful show! 25 Alas! 'tis the sound of the eight o'clock bell. Come now we'll to bed! and when we are there I told of hills, and far-off towns, No strife disturbs his sister's breast; Her joy is like an instinct, joy Her brother now takes up the note, He may work his own will, and what They hug the infant in my arms, shall we care? 15 20 25 30 35 We talked of change, of winter gone, To her these tales they will repeat, -But see, the evening star comes forth! 46 "Tis gone-and in a merry fit I could have joined the wanton chase. |