Part 15 (2/2)
The neighb'ring poor at length began to speak Of Abel's ramblings--he'd been gone a week; They knew not where, and little care they took For one so friendless and so poor to look.
At last a stranger, in a pedlar's shed, Beheld him hanging--he had long been dead.
He left a paper, penn'd at sundry times, Ent.i.tled thus--”My Groanings and my Crimes!”
”I was a Christian man, and none could lay Aught to my charge; I walk'd the narrow way: All then was simple faith, serene and pure, My hope was stedfast and my prospects sure; Then was I tried by want and sickness sore, But these I clapp'd my s.h.i.+eld of faith before, And cares and wants and man's rebukes I bore: Alas! new foes a.s.sail'd me; I was vain, They stung my pride and they confused my brain: Oh! these deluders! with what glee they saw Their simple dupe transgress the righteous law; 'Twas joy to them to view that dreadful strife, When faith and frailty warr'd for more than life; So with their pleasures they beguiled the heart, Then with their logic they allay'd the smart; They proved (so thought I then) with reasons strong, That no man's feelings ever lead him wrong: And thus I went, as on the varnish'd ice, The smooth career of unbelief and vice.
Oft would the youths, with sprightly speech and bold, Their witty tales of naughty priests unfold; 'Twas all a craft,' they said, 'a cunning trade; Not she the priests, but priests Religion made.'
So I believed:”--No, Abel! to thy grief: So thou relinquish'dst all that was belief: - ”I grew as very flint, and when the rest Laugh'd at devotion, I enjoy'd the jest; But this all vanish'd like the morning-dew, When unemploy'd, and poor again I grew; Yea! I was doubly poor, for I was wicked too.
”The mouse that trespa.s.s'd and the treasure stole, Found his lean body fitted to the hole; Till, having fatted, he was forced to stay, And, fasting, starve his stolen bulk away: Ah ! worse for me--grown poor, I yet remain In sinful bonds, and pray and fast in vain.
”At length I thought, although these friends of sin Have spread their net, and caught their prey therein; Though my hard heart could not for mercy call, Because though great my grief, my faith was small; Yet, as the sick on skilful men rely, The soul diseased may to a doctor fly.
”A famous one there was, whose skill had wrought Cures past belief, and him the sinners sought; Numbers there were defiled by mire and filth, Whom he recovered by his goodly tilth: 'Come then,' I said, 'let me the man behold, And tell my case:'--I saw him and I told.
”With trembling voice, 'Oh! reverend sir,' I said, 'I once believed, and I was then misled; And now such doubts my sinful soul beset, I dare not say that I'm a Christian yet; Canst thou, good sir, by thy superior skill, Inform my judgment and direct my will?
Ah! give thy cordial; let my soul have rest, And be the outward man alone distress'd; For at my state I tremble.'--'Tremble more,'
Said the good man, 'and then rejoice therefore!
'Tis good to tremble; prospects then are fair, When the lost soul is plunged in deep despair: Once thou wert simply honest, just, and pure, Whole, as thou thought'st, and never wish'd a cure: Now thou hast plunged in folly, shame, disgrace, Now thou'rt an object meet for healing grace; No merit thine, no virtue, hope, belief, Nothing hast thou, but misery, sin, and grief; The best, the only t.i.tles to relief.'
'What must I do,' I said, 'my soul to free?' - 'Do nothing, man; it will be done for thee.'
'But must I not, my reverend guide, believe?' - 'If thou art call'd, thou wilt the faith receive.'
'But I repent not.'--Angry he replied, 'If thou art call'd, though needest nought beside: Attend on us, and if 'tis Heaven's decree, The call will come,--if not, ah! woe for thee.'
”There then I waited, ever on the watch, A spark of hope, a ray of light to catch; His words fell softly like the flakes of snow, But I could never find my heart o'erflow: He cried aloud, till in the flock began The sigh, the tear, as caught from man to man; They wept and they rejoiced, and there was I Hard as a flint, and as the desert dry: To me no tokens of the call would come, I felt my sentence, and received my doom; But I complain'd--'Let thy repinings cease, Oh! man of sin, for they thy guilt increase; It bloweth where it listeth;--die in peace.'
- In peace, and perish?' I replied; 'impart Some better comfort to a burthen'd heart.'
'Alas!' the priest return'd, 'can I direct The heavenly call?--Do I proclaim th' elect?
Raise not thy voice against th' Eternal will, But take thy part with sinners, and be still.'
”Alas, for me! no more the times of peace Are mine on earth--in death my pains may cease.
”Foes to my soul! ye young seducers, know What serious ills from your amus.e.m.e.nts flow; Opinions you with so much ease profess, Overwhelm the simple and their minds oppress: Let such be happy, nor with reasons strong, That make them wretched, prove their notions wrong; Let them proceed in that they deem the way, Fast when they will, and at their pleasure pray: Yes, I have pity for my brethren's lot, And so had Dives, but it help'd him not: And is it thus?--I'm full of doubts: --Adieu!
Perhaps his reverence is mistaken too.” {12}
LETTER XXII.
THE POOR OF THE BOROUGH.
Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd Came to my tent, and every one did threat . . .
SHAKESPEARE, Richard III.
The time hath been, That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end: but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools.
SHAKESPEARE, Macbeth.
PETER GRIMES.
The Father of Peter a Fisherman--Peter's early Conduct--His Grief for the old Man--He takes an Apprentice--The Boy's Suffering and Fate--A second Boy; how he died--Peter acquitted--A third Apprentice--A Voyage by Sea: the Boy does not return--Evil Report on Peter: he is tried and threatened--Lives alone--His melancholy and incipient Madness--Is observed and visited--He escapes and is taken: is lodged in a parish-house: Women attend and watch him--He speaks in a Delirium; grows more collected--His Account of his Feelings and visionary Terrors previous to his Death.
OLD Peter Grimes made fis.h.i.+ng his employ, His wife he cabin'd with him and his boy, And seem'd that life laborious to enjoy: To town came quiet Peter with his fish, And had of all a civil word and wish.
He left his trade upon the Sabbath-day, And took young Peter in his hand to pray: But soon the stubborn boy from care broke loose, At first refused, then added his abuse: His father's love he scorn'd, his power defied, But being drunk, wept sorely when he died.
Yes! then he wept, and to his mind there came Much of his conduct, and he felt the shame, - How he had oft the good old man reviled, And never paid the duty of a child; How, when the father in his Bible read, He in contempt and anger left the shed: ”It is the word of life,” the parent cried; - ”This is the life itself,” the boy replied.
And while old Peter in amazement stood, Gave the hot spirits to his boiling blood: - How he, with oath and furious speech, began To prove his freedom and a.s.sert the man; And when the parent check'd his impious rage, How he had cursed the tyranny of age, - Nay, once had dealt the sacrilegious blow On his bare head, and laid his parent low; The father groan'd--”If thou art old,” said he, ”And hast a son--thou wilt remember me: Thy mother left me in a happy time, Thou kill'dst not her--heav'n spares the double crime.”
On an inn-settle, in his maudlin grief, This he resolved, and drank for his relief.
Now lived the youth in freedom, but debarr'd From constant pleasures, and he thought it hard; Hard that he could not every wish obey, But must awhile relinquish ale and play; Hard! that he could not to his cards attend, But must acquire the money he would spend.
With greedy eye he look'd on all he saw, He knew not justice, and he laugh'd at law; On all he mark'd, he stretch'd his ready hand; He fish'd by water and he filch'd by land: Oft in the night has Peter dropp'd his oar, Fled from his boat, and sought for prey on sh.o.r.e; Oft up the hedge-row glided, on his back Bearing the orchard's produce in a sack, Or farm-yard load, tugg'd fiercely from the stack; And as these wrongs to greater numbers rose, The more he look'd on all men as his foes.
He built a mud-wall'd hovel, where he kept His various wealth, and there he oft-times slept; But no success could please his cruel soul, He wish'd for one to trouble and control; He wanted some obedient boy to stand And bear the blow of his outrageous hand; And hoped to find in some propitious hour A feeling creature subject to his power.
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