Part 3 (1/2)
”'Twere better ne'er to taste Of pleasure's thrilling draught, Than the parch'd, fever'd, thirsty lip To leave ere it be quaff'd!
'Twere better launch on Lethe's stream, Than bliss to feel a bygone dream.
”To meet,--and meet no more!
One look and then to sever; To feel 'tis but a parting glance And then 'Farewell' for ever!
As from bright tints deep shades we borrow, Joys past but deepen present sorrow.
”All earthly joy must fade, All earthly bliss decay, Life but the suns.h.i.+ne and the shower Of some brief ”April day:”
Till death like night's grim shadow steals, And all the unknown at once reveals!
”And earthly idols, all Must perish if too dear; We ne'er should seek enduring bliss Could we but find it here.
Our dearest, tenderest ties must break, Hopes wither oft, and friends forsake.
”And though your presence now A vision of the past; And those bright laughing sunny hours Too joyous were to last; Yet like the perfume of the flower More fragrant in the twilight hour,
”So though unseen,--beheld In memory's milder light, More tender and more hallow'd seem Forms too remote for sight.
In memory's softer hues enshrin'd What cherish'd hopes are left behind!
”And though we meet no more, Though destined far apart, The fond remembrance lingers long That lingers in the heart; A breath, a touch, the chord may thrill, And all the past our bosom fill.
”Adieu! whate'er betide On life's unstable sea, In darkness or in light the Power Unseen your solace be.
In joy or woe, whate'er His will, His hand your guide, your safety still!
”Great Malvern, May 1848.”
To test Mr. Roby's power of language in a sportive mood, the first letter and last word in each line of the following acrostic were given him one evening. The order of the rhymes as well as of the initial letters was to remain unchanged. On the following morning he produced the lines completed. The Ivy Rock was a favourite haunt in a ravine on the hills.
”Malvern the birth-place of English Poetry.
The vision of Pierce Plowman from THE IVY ROCK.”[D]
”The minstrel seer look'd out _afar_, His eye was keen, his glance was _long_; Eve deck'd her brow with one fair _star_ In glory oft to hear his _song_.
Visions of after-years bursting to _life_, Yon wide plain swept in shadows huge and _dim_ Records of woe, and dread, and coming _strife_!
On that lone rock, while mute his evening _hymn_ Calm silence sate;--and through the live-long _night_ Kindled his rapt eye in prophetic _light_.
”Malvern, March 21, 1849.”
In the summer of 1849, Mr. Roby again married. The loved, and almost idolized head of a happy home, he appeared, as he had never before to those who only knew him in his bereaved life, breathing an atmosphere of happiness, and diffusing it around him, till even the sorrowful grew bright with smiles, and
”Souls by nature pitch'd too high, By suffering plunged too low,”
were lifted up again into the untroubled joy of childhood. It was impossible the traveller should retain his mantle of grief with such fervid suns.h.i.+ne around him. The enthusiasm of his nature gathered new force from the buoyancy of recovered health, and found its own element in the exquisite woodland scenery lying among the recesses of the Cotswold hills. To those who know these woods, or have once seen them in the tender luxuriance of very early summer, this term is not too strong.
The rich botanical treasures they presented, were many of them new to him. The writer cannot forget the intense pleasure with which he discovered among the last year's beech leaves, and held up to view, the beautiful _Epipactis grandiflora_ (white h.e.l.leborine), which he had only once before seen, his companion, never. Nor the delight with which on another occasion he hailed the long-sought _Listera nidus avis_ (birds-nest ophrys), now found for the first time in its native habitat.
Nor did he lose the general impression of nature in scientific details.
The beautiful effects of light and shadow, the peculiar blue air tint of the beech woods, every thing that went to form the perfect whole, seemed individually to fill his spirit with exquisite pleasure. And as, in that evening's wandering through the Cranham woods, with friends whose spirits were kindred--looking down the hanging wood, through a lengthening vista, the evening mist was seen creeping on, its hues changing gradually from soft rose-colour to deep purple, the novel and almost unearthly beauty of the scene was such, that all caught his rapture, and felt that never before had any thing so vividly imaged the paradise of the spirit-world. It might have been the painter's conception of Bunyan's land of Beulah.
The early autumn of the year was spent among the c.u.mberland mountains.
Furnished with a botanical tin, pressing-book, and sketch-book--the provision for the day slung at the saddle-bow, some delightful excursions of about five-and-twenty miles a day were made. Nothing could be more congenial with his buoyant, independent spirit, than the freedom of these mountain rambles--professional guides dispensed with, he always squire of dames, and horses too. Starting early in the morning, dining one day on the mountain's brow, the next in the recesses of Borrowdale, amid the haunts of the rarer ferns, or under the shadow of Honister Crag, in the silence of the mountain solitudes; and then with the declining sun, treasure-laden, wending our homeward way as the evening shadows crept on, until,
”Every leaf was lost In the dark hedges,”