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قراءة كتاب The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius with some other poems
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اللغة: English
The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius with some other poems
الصفحة رقم: 6
class="stanzano">XLIII.
Ah me! abandoned on the lonesome plain,
As yet poor Edwin never knew your lore,
Save when against the winter’s drenching rain,
And driving snow, the cottage shut the door.
Then, as instructed by tradition hoar,
Her legends when the Beldam ’gan impart,
Or chant the old heroic ditty o’er,
Wonder and joy ran thrilling to his heart;
Much he the tale admired, but more the tuneful art.
As yet poor Edwin never knew your lore,
Save when against the winter’s drenching rain,
And driving snow, the cottage shut the door.
Then, as instructed by tradition hoar,
Her legends when the Beldam ’gan impart,
Or chant the old heroic ditty o’er,
Wonder and joy ran thrilling to his heart;
Much he the tale admired, but more the tuneful art.
Various and strange was the long-winded tale;
And halls, and knights, and feats of arms, displayed;
Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing, enamoured of the nut-brown maid;
The moon-light revel of the fairy glade;
Or hags, that suckle an infernal brood,
And ply in caves the unutterable trade,
’Midst fiends and spectres, quench the moon in blood,
Yell in the midnight storm, or ride the infuriate flood.
And halls, and knights, and feats of arms, displayed;
Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing, enamoured of the nut-brown maid;
The moon-light revel of the fairy glade;
Or hags, that suckle an infernal brood,
And ply in caves the unutterable trade,
’Midst fiends and spectres, quench the moon in blood,
Yell in the midnight storm, or ride the infuriate flood.
XLV.
But when to horror his amazement rose,
A gentler strain the Beldam would rehearse,
A tale of rural life, a tale of woes,
The orphan-babes, and guardian uncle fierce.
O cruel! will no pang of pity pierce
That heart by lust of lucre seared to stone!
For sure, if aught of virtue last, or verse,
To latest times shall tender souls bemoan
Those helpless orphan-babes by thy fell arts undone.
A gentler strain the Beldam would rehearse,
A tale of rural life, a tale of woes,
The orphan-babes, and guardian uncle fierce.
O cruel! will no pang of pity pierce
That heart by lust of lucre seared to stone!
For sure, if aught of virtue last, or verse,
To latest times shall tender souls bemoan
Those helpless orphan-babes by thy fell arts undone.
Behold, with berries smeared, with brambles torn,
The babes, now famished, lay them down to die;
’Midst the wild howl of darksome woods forlorn,
Folded in one another’s arms they lie;
Nor friend, nor stranger, hears their dying cry:
‘For from the town the man returns no more.’
But thou, who Heaven’s just vengeance darest defy,
This deed with fruitless tears shalt soon deplore,
When Death lays waste thy house, and flames consume thy store.
The babes, now famished, lay them down to die;
’Midst the wild howl of darksome woods forlorn,
Folded in one another’s arms they lie;
Nor friend, nor stranger, hears their dying cry:
‘For from the town the man returns no more.’
But thou, who Heaven’s just vengeance darest defy,
This deed with fruitless tears shalt soon deplore,
When Death lays waste thy house, and flames consume thy store.
XLVII.
A stifled smile of stern vindictive joy
Brightened one moment Edwin’s starting tear.—
‘But why should gold man’s feeble mind decoy,
‘And innocence thus die by doom severe?’
O Edwin! while thy heart is yet sincere,
The assaults of discontent and doubt repel:
Dark even at noontide is our mortal sphere;
But let us hope; to doubt, is to rebel;
Let us exult in hope, that all shall yet be well.
Brightened one moment Edwin’s starting tear.—
‘But why should gold man’s feeble mind decoy,
‘And innocence thus die by doom severe?’
O Edwin! while thy heart is yet sincere,
The assaults of discontent and doubt repel:
Dark even at noontide is our mortal sphere;
But let us hope; to doubt, is to rebel;
Let us exult in hope, that all shall yet be well.