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diff --git a/9048.txt b/9048.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba255ef --- /dev/null +++ b/9048.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3661 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ballads, by William Hayley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ballads + Founded On Anecdotes Relating To Animals + +Author: William Hayley + + +Release Date: October, 2005 [EBook #9048] +This file was first posted on September 1, 2003 +Last updated: April 30, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BALLADS *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Robert Prince and Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + +BALLADS, + +By William Hayley, Esq. + +Founded On Anecdotes Relating To Animals, + +With Prints, Designed And Engraved By William Blake. + + +1805. + + + + +PREFACE + +Three words of Horace may form an introduction to the following pages, +the very words, which that amiable physician and poet, the late +Dr. Cotton of St. Alban's, prefixed as a motto to his elegant and +moral little volume of Visions in Verse: + + "VIRGINIBUS PUERISQUE CANTO." + +Or in plainer English prose:--The book is intended for young Readers. + + + + +BALLADS. + + + + +THE DOG. + + +BALLAD THE FIRST. + + Of all the speechless friends of man + The faithful dog I deem + Deserving from the human clan + The tenderest esteem: + + This feeling creature form'd to love, + To watch, and to defend, + Was given to man by powers above, + A guardian, and a friend! + + I sing, of all e'er known to live + The truest friend canine; + And glory if my verse may give, + Brave Fido! it is thine. + + A dog of many a sportive trick, + Tho' rough and large of limb. + Fido would chase the floating stick + When Lucy cried, "go swim." + + And what command could Lucy give, + Her dog would not obey? + For her it seemed his pride to live, + Blest in her gentle sway! + + For conscious of her every care + He strain'd each feeling nerve, + To please that friend, his lady fair + Commanded him to serve. + + Of many friends to Lucy dear, + One rose above the rest; + Proclaim'd, in glory's bright career. + The monarch of her breast. + + Tender and brave, her Edward came + To bid his fair adieu; + To India call'd, in honour's name, + To honour he was true. + + The farewell rack'd poor Lucy's heart, + Nor pain'd her lover less; + And Fido, when he saw them part, + Seem'd full of their distress. + + Lucy, who thro' her tears descried + His sympathetic air, + "Go! with him, Fido!" fondly cried, + "And make his life thy care!" + + The dog her order understood, + Or seem'd to understand, + It was his glory to make good + Affection's kind command. + + How he obeyed;--the price how great + His brave obedience cost, + Fancy would faulter to relate, + In wild conjecture lost. + + But Truth and Love, the upright pair, + Who witnessed Fido's worth, + His wond'rous virtue shall declare, + A lesson to the earth! + + Not in the battle's gory tide, + Nor in the stormy seas, + No! Fido's noble faith was tried + In scenes of sportive ease. + + Often in India's sultry soil + To brace the languid limb, + 'Twas Edward's pleasure, after toil, + To take a fearless swim. + + Bold in a flood he lov'd to leap. + When full the current flow'd; + Nor dreamt the water, dark, and deep. + The crocodile's abode. + + And fearless he and Fido oft, + Along the stream would glide; + Their custom from the bank aloft + To vault into the tide! + + But once, when Edward had begun + To cast his clothes aside, + Round him his dog would anxious run, + And much to check him tried. + + So much, that had dumb Fido said + "Avoid the stream to day!" + Those words could scarce have plainer made + What duty wish'd to say. + + Edward, too eager to enjoy + The sport, where danger lay, + Scolds him for gestures, that annoy, + And beats his guard away: + + And naked now, and dreaming not + How cruel was that blow, + He hurries to the lofty spot, + In haste to plunge below, + + His faithful friend, with quicker pace, + And now with silent tongue, + Out-stript his master in the race, + And swift before him sprung. + + Heaven! how the heart of Edward swell'd + Upon the river's brink, + When his brave guardian he beheld + A glorious victim sink! + + Sink in a watery monster's jaw, + That near the river's side + Too late th' astonish'd Edward saw, + And shriek'd, as Fido died. + + In vain he shriek'd; and soon his tears + His heart-felt loss deplore; + "Lucy!" he cries, as if she hears, + "Thy Fido is no more!" + + "Calamitously lost, his form, + So often thy delight! + No artist's hand, with genius warm, + Can rescue for thy sight;" + + "But if 'tis sung by friendly bard + How he resign'd his breath; + Thy dog must win the world's regard, + Immortal in his death!" + + 'Twas thus the feeling Edward griev'd, + Nor could his grief divine, + What honours, by pure love conceived, + Brave Fido, would be thine! + + When Lucy heard of Fido's fate, + What showers of tears she shed! + No cost would she have thought too great + To celebrate the dead. + + But gold had not the power to raise + A semblance of her friend; + Yet kind compassion, who surveys, + Soon bids her sorrow end. + + A sculptor, pity's genuine son! + Knew her well-founded grief; + And quickly, tho' he promised none, + Gave her the best relief; + + He, rich in Lucy's sister's heart, + By love and friendship's aid, + Of Fido, with the happiest art, + A secret statue made. + + By stealth in Lucy's chamber plac'd, + It charm'd the mourner there, + Till Edward, with new glory grac'd, + Rejoin'd his faithful fair. + + The marble Fido in their sight, + Enhanc'd their nuptial bliss; + And Lucy every morn, and night, + Gave him a grateful kiss. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE ELEPHANT. + + +BALLAD THE SECOND. + + Say, nature, on whose wond'rous reign + Delighted fancy dwells, + Of all thy numerous brutal train + What animal excells? + + What quadruped most nobly vies + In virtue with mankind, + Like man deliberately wise, + And resolutely kind? + + Beneath a form vast and uncouth + Such excellence is found: + Sagacious Elephant! thy truth, + Thy kindness is renown'd. + + More mild than sanguinary man, + Whose servant thou hast prov'd, + Oft in his frantic battle's van + Thy bulk has stood unmoved: + + There oft thy spirit griev'd, to see + His murd'rous rage encrease, + 'Till mad himself, he madden'd thee. + Thou nobler friend to peace! + + Acts of thy courage might occur + To grace heroic song; + But I thy gentle deeds prefer, + Thou strongest of the strong! + + Where India serves the British throne, + In scenes no longer wild, + A menial Elephant was known, + Most singularly mild! + + It was his custom, fresh and gay + By his attendant led, + Walking to water, every day, + To pass a gard'ner's shed, + + This gard'ner, of good natured fame, + Admir'd the noble beast; + And gave him, whensoe'er he came, + A vegetable feast. + + Some dainty, from his stall bestow'd, + So made the beast his friend; + 'Twas joy to see, at this abode, + His blythe proboscis bend. + + Not coarsely eager for his food, + He seem'd his love to court, + And oft delighted, as he stood. + To yield his children sport. + + As if to thank them for each gift, + With tender, touching care, + The boys he to his back would lift, + And still caress them there. + + In short his placid gambols seem'd + Affection so profound, + His friendship for this man was deem'd + A wonder all around. + + But O! can humour's giddy range + Mislead the brutal mind? + Can elephants their friendship change, + As fickle as mankind? + + See now the hero of my song, + That theme of every tongue! + Alone, and fierce, he stalks along, + As if with frenzy stung: + + See! to the gard'ner's well-known shed + Impetuous he flies; + Seizes his friend in silent dread, + And lifts him to the skies. + + High as his trunk the man can bear, + Th' astonish'd man he bore, + Who vainly struggled in the air, + And trembled more and more. + + So wild, so swift, the monster past, + All deem'd him mad and fled.-- + Thro' a high window gently cast, + With terror almost dead, + + The astounded gard'ner view'd with awe + The savage speed away; + But soon with gratitude he saw + The source of his dismay: + + Unthought of source! for now inflam'd + A ravenous tyger sprung, + And at the window vainly aim'd + To which he trembling clung. + + And now with joy his heart strings swell, + And blest he deems his lot; + For the foil'd tyger as he fell, + A latent marksman shot. + + The Elephant returns:--O Heaven! + How tender was his air, + Seeing the friend, whose life was given + To his preserving care! + + For, conscious of the danger, he, + Most providently kind, + From unseen ill to set him free, + Such rescue had designed. + + Ye, whom a friend's dark perils pain, + When terrors most unnerve him, + Learn from this Elephant to strain + Your sinews to preserve him. + + + * * * * * + + + + +THE EAGLE. + + +BALLAD THE THIRD. + + Nature, what heart may here by thee, + Most truly brave be styled? + The tender mother's it must be, + When struggling for her child! + + A Scottish tale, of serious truth, + Will make the maxim clear, + I heard it from a shepherd youth, + As nature's self sincere. + + On Scotland's wildest, loneliest ground, + The subject of my tale + Liv'd, where incumbent mountains frown'd + High o'er her peaceful vale. + + The heroine of nature, she + No vain ambition knew, + Her bairns and goats she nurs'd with glee, + To love and labour true. + + Her hut within the valley stood, + Where thin grass grew alone, + No shade had she from lofty wood. + But much from towering stone. + + For o'er her vale a mountain's crown, + In loftiest horror, hung, + A ravenous Eagle half way down, + Nurs'd her imperial young. + + Jessy herself, so was she call'd, + Possess'd an eagle's eye, + And her quick vision unappall'd + Had mark'd the nest on high. + + But of a fearless heart, she deem'd + The royal bird her friend, + Nor thought its rage, tho' fierce it scream'd, + Would to her vale descend. + + With plunder borne thro' distant air, + She saw it stain the rock, + Yet trusted it would nobly spare + Her little neighbouring flock. + + Ah Jessy, oft the fancied friend, + Commits a cruel wrong; + Weak neighbours seldom should depend + On kindness from the strong. + + No manly guard hast thou with thee + A savage foe to scare, + For thy good man far off to sea + The distant billows bear. + + That best of guards thou oft has known, + But of his aid bereft, + Two little boys with thee alone + Are all thy treasures left. + + The eldest grew with manly grace, + His years yet barely seven, + A stripling of a sweeter face, + Has never gaz'd on Heaven. + + He was indeed a friend most rare, + To chear his lonely mother, + And aid her in her constant care + His little baby-brother. + + With these to Jessy much endear'd, + Whom from the world she hid, + Three nurslings more she fondly rear'd, + Two lambkins and a kid. + + Most tender playmates all the five, + None stray'd the vale beyond, + They were the happiest imps alive, + All of each other fond. + + And Jessy all with joy survey'd, + With joy her heart ran o'er, + When they their little gambols play'd, + She spinning at her door. + + But how mischance will intervene: + This spot of sweet delight, + One eventide, became a scene + Of anguish and affright. + + The elder boy, gay Donald, chanc'd, + Far from the door to play, + Lest, now within the vale advanc'd, + His kid might roam away. + + The mother sat to watch the vale, + Nor yet his sport forbid; + But starts to see the Eagle sail + Above the trembling kid. + + The kid began to quake and cry; + Not so the braver boy, + The full-winged savage to defy + Was his heroic joy. + + Still nearer sail'd the undaunted bird, + Its destin'd deed undone, + And when its ravenous scream she heard + The mother join'd her son. + + Their shouts united, and each arm + In bold protection spread, + Secur'd the kid from real harm, + Tho' now with fear half dead, + + Some furlongs from their cottage sill, + Now pass'd this anxious scene; + There they had left, as safe from ill, + The sleeping babe serene. + + The savage bird the kid renounc'd, + But round the cottage oft + Rapid he wheel'd, and there he pounc'd, + And bore the babe aloft. + + Ah!--who can now that impulse paint, + Which fires the mother's breast? + Nor toil, nor danger, makes her faint; + She seeks this Eagle's nest. + + But first with courage clear, tho' warm, + As guides the martial shock, + When British tars prepare to storm + A fortress on a rock. + + She bids, to mark the Eagle's flight, + Young Donald watch below, + While she will mount the craggy height, + And to his aerie go. + + With filial hope her son, who knew + Her courage and her skill, + Watch'd to parental orders true, + Magnanimously still. + + And now, his mother out of sight, + He fixt his piercing eye + On crags, that blaz'd in solar light, + Whence eagles us'd to fly. + + He saw, as far as eye may ken, + A crag with blood defil'd, + And entering this aerial den + The Eagle and the child. + + The boy, tho' trusting much in God, + With generous fear was fill'd; + Aware, that, if those crags she trod, + His mother might be kill'd. + + His youthful mind was not aware + How nature may sustain + Life, guarded by maternal care + From peril, and from pain. + + And now he sees, or thinks he sees + (His heart begins to pant) + A woman crawling on her knees, + Close to the Eagle's haunt. + + It is thy mother, gallant boy, + Lo! up her figure springs: + She darts, unheard, with speechless joy + Between the Eagle's wings. + + Behold! her arms its neck enchain, + And clasp her babe below: + Th' entangled bird attempts in vain + Its burthen to o'erthrow. + + Now Heaven defend thee, mother bold, + Thy peril is extreme: + Thou'rt dead, if thou let go thy hold, + Scar'd by that savage scream; + + And bravely if thou keep it fast, + What yet may be thy doom! + This very hour may be thy last, + That aerie prove thy tomb. + + No! No! thank Heaven! O nobly done! + O marvellous attack! + I see thee riding in the sun, + Upon the Eagle's back. + + In vain it buffets with its wings, + In vain it wheels around; + Still screaming, in its airy rings, + It sinks towards the ground. + + Run, Donald, run! she has not stirr'd, + And she is deadly pale: + She's dead; and with the dying bird + Descending to the vale. + + Lo! Donald flies.--She touches earth: + O form'd on earth to shine! + O mother of unrivall'd worth, + And sav'd by aid divine! + + She lives unhurt--unhurt too lies + The baby in her clasp; + And her aerial tyrant dies + Just strangled in her grasp. + + What triumph swelled in Donald's breast, + And o'er his features spread. + When he his living mother prest, + And held the Eagle dead! + + Angels, who left your realms of bliss. + And on this parent smil'd, + Guard every mother brave as this, + In rescuing her child! + + + * * * * * + + + + +THE STAG. + + +BALLAD THE FOURTH. + + Blest be the boy, by virtue nurst, + Who knows not aught of fear's controul, + And keeps, in peril's sudden burst, + The freedom of an active soul. + + Such was a lively Tuscan boy, + Who lived the youthful Tasso's friend, + Friendship and verse his early joy, + And music, form'd with love to blend. + + Love had inspir'd his tender frame, + His years but two above eleven, + The sister of his friend his flame! + A lovely little light of Heaven! + + Born in the same propitious year, + Together nurst, together taught; + Each learn'd to hold the other dear, + In perfect unison of thought. + + Their forms, their talents, and their talk, + Seem'd match'd by some angelic powers, + Ne'er grew upon a rose's stalk + A sweeter pair of social flowers. + + Fortunio was the stripling's name, + Cornelia his affection's queen, + Both to all eyes, where'er they came, + Endear'd by their attractive mien. + + For like a pair of fairy sprites, + Endued with soft aetherial grace, + Enrapt in musical delights + They hardly seem'd of mortal race! + + Often the youth, in early morn, + Awak'd a social sylvan flute. + To notes as gay, as Dian's horn, + Or tender, as Apollo's lute. + + Then, at his side, his sovereign fair + Appear'd the rising day to greet, + Uniting to his dulcet air + Devotion's song divinely sweet. + + A fund of joys, that never waste, + Nature to this sweet pair had given; + Invention, harmony, and taste, + And fancy, brightest gift of Heaven! + + In quest of many a new device, + Thro' pathless scenes they joy'd to roam, + Composing songs most wildly sweet, + Heard, with parental pride, at home. + + Delighted in a wood to rove, + That near their native city spread; + There of its gayest flowers they wove, + A garland for each other's head. + + One morn when this dear task was done, + And just as each the other crown'd, + Seeking deep, shade to 'scape the sun, + A piteous spectacle they found. + + It was a dead disfigur'd fawn, + Its milk white haunch some monster tore; + It perish'd in that morning's dawn, + Nor had the sun yet dried its gore! + + Cornelia, nature's genuine child, + Caress'd the dead, with pity pale; + It's mangled limb, with gesture mild, + She shrouded in her sea-green veil. + + The sympathetic pair agreed, + To form a grave without a spade; + Bury their fawn beneath a tree, + And chaunt a requiem to his shade. + + Fortunio had a rustic knife, + With this their feeling task they plann'd, + And often in a friendly strife, + They claim'd it from each other's hand. + + But ere their tedious toil advanc'd, + Towards its kind and tender end, + Cornelia, as her quick eye glanc'd, + Saw, what escap'd her toiling friend. + + It was a sight that well might shake, + A little heart of stouter mould; + A sight, that made Cornelia quake, + And all her quivering fibres cold! + + A furious Stag advancing sprung, + Eager along the echoing wood, + As if vindictive for his young, + To reach the spot, where now they stood. + + Cornelia scarce could stand, for she + Began her guardian to entreat; + Seizing his busy arm, to flee + Far from the fawn before her feet. + + The youth her painful terror saw, + And with a manly sterness said, + In a firm voice, inspiring awe, + "Cornelia I must be obeyed." + + "True love is brave, whate'er may chance-- + Behind this tree's protecting bole + Stand thou--nor fear the Stag's advance, + But trust to thy Fortunio's soul!" + + The faithful maid, in double dread, + Fear'd to offend him more than death; + And now, as near the fierce foe sped, + Behind the tree, she pants for breath. + + Yet peeping thence in fond alarm, + Most trembling for her guardian's life, + She looks, expecting that his arm + Would brandish his defensive knife. + + Amazement kept the trembler mute, + To see him hurl it far away, + And from his bosom pluck his flute, + And fearlessly begin to play. + + The furious parent of the dead, + Marking him near his blood-stain'd young, + Aim'd at his breast with hostile head, + As near the dauntless boy he sprung. + + But ere the branching horns could reach, + That object of ill-founded ire, + Sounds of resistless magic teach + Submission to the savage sire. + + The young musician richly pour'd + Notes from his pipe, so wond'rous sweet, + A rav'nous pard must have ador'd, + And melted at the minstrel's feet. + + So softly plaintive was the strain, + No living thing unmov'd could hear, + What took from terror all its pain, + And mixt delight with sorrow's tear. + + The Stag with a pathetic grace + Look'd up, most eloquently mute; + And sighing in Fortunio's face, + Now lick'd the hand, that held his flute. + + Cornelia saw, with blest relief, + The scene that every fear dismist; + And sharing all his love and grief, + Her foe, so humaniz'd, she kist. + + Then by her brave musician's side, + She fondly claspt his honour'd hand. + "And give me credit now," she cried, + "For staying at thy stern command." + + "Henceforth, tho' plung'd in perils new, + I shrink from none, if thou art near, + But feel our sacred maxim true, + That perfect love will cast out fear!" + + "This Stag to thee will ever shew + The gratitude, thy strains inspire! + And those, who soothe a parent's woe, + Are dear to Heaven's all-soothing sire." + + "Our duty to this hapless fawn + We will perform, and often fly + To hail his grave at early dawn; + Youth and misfortune claim a sigh!" + + The lovely nymph prophetic spoke; + The Stag, as taught by powers above, + Oft met them at their fav'rite oak, + And seem'd to bless their tender love. + + Here oft the little fair retir'd; + Here lov'd from gayer scenes withdrawn, + To breathe, what harmony inspir'd-- + A dirge to memorize the fawn! + + + * * * * * + + + + +THE STORK. + + +BALLAD THE FIFTH. + + Who can forget fair freedom's bird, + That has her genuine praises heard, + Confirm'd by frequent proof? + The patriot stork is sure to share + The brave Batavian's generous care, + While breeding on his roof, + + In all her early, brightest, days, + When Holland won immortal praise + Her Spanish tyrant's dread! + She play'd not her heroic part + With spirit, nobler than the heart, + Of one mild bird she bred. + + It was a female Stork, whose mind + Shew'd all the mother, bravely kind, + In trial's fiercest hour; + This bird had blest her happy lot, + High-nested on a fisher's cot, + As stedfast as a tower. + + Her host, a man benignly mild, + Was happy in a darling child + Who now had woman's air; + Her face intelligent and sweet, + And her soft bosom was the seat + Of kind courageous care. + + The lovely girl was call'd Catau, + She joy'd to make her neat hearth glow, + For her returning sire; + When from his distant toil he hied, + To banquet by his daughter's side, + Before his evening fire. + + The child and parent liv'd alone: + Each to the other long had shewn + Such pure and perfect love, + Comrades they wanted none beside, + Both cherishing, with tender pride, + Their Stork, who built above. + + To their high chimney's top she sprung, + Protecting there three callow young, + Too feeble to descend: + But oft she visited the ground, + And in her youthful hostess found + A playmate, and a friend. + + In scenes of social care endear'd, + As sure as supper time appear'd, + The Stork a ready guest, + Was constant at the damsel's side, + And she with dainties was supplied, + To carry to her nest. + + But how among the dearest brood + Calamity will oft intrude, + And fairest hopes prevent; + How quick can desolation's storm + With horrid agonies deform, + The scene of sweet content! + + As early one autumnal eve, + Catau was eager to receive + Her father to his feast; + She look'd without her door, and saw + Aloft a little blaze of straw, + That in the wind encreas'd. + + Alas! from her high chimney's top + A dangerous spark had chanc'd to drop, + And fir'd the fav'rite nest! + She sees the affrighted parent fly, + Around her young, and seem to cry + "Oh succour the distrest!" + + Catau was an heroic maid, + Most apt to lend a sufferer aid; + With quick-ey'd zeal she found + A ladder, and a triple fork, + On which to lift each callow Stork, + And guide them to the ground. + + With pity's just, and dauntless, haste, + She mounts the ladder rightly plac'd, + She rears the guardian fork; + Her heart expands, with hope elate, + That she shall kindly snatch from fate + Each tender little Stork. + + Dear virtuous damsel, vainly brave, + Thou must resign thy hopes to save + These innocents from death! + The faithless ladder breaks--the maid + Escaping by angelic aid, + Now scarce retains her breath. + + Forgetting selfish fear, her eye + Is fixt upon the scene on high, + With anguish and despair; + The dauntless bird, with wond'rous skill, + A parent's duty to fulfil, + Toils in the troubled air. + + Two of the callow young she lays, + Beyond the peril of the blaze; + But while the last she rears, + The other little ones distrest + Crawl back within the burning nest, + And aggravate her fears. + + Now in the vex'd and heated air, + She draws fresh courage from despair; + She sees them gasp for breath; + Tho' fiercer flames around her sprung, + She settles on her dying young, + And welcomes social death! + + "My glorious bird," exclaims the maid, + Who her brave fav'rite survey'd, + While she expir'd above: + "I will not at thy lot repine, + But rather pray it may be mine, + To die with those I love!" + + + + + +THE PANTHER. + + +BALLAD THE SIXTH. + + + Maternal love! thou wond'rous power, + By no base fears controul'd, + Tis truly thine, in danger's hour, + To make the tender bold! + + And yet, more marvellous! thy sway, + Amid the pathless wild, + Can humanize the beast of prey! + And make the savage mild! + + A traveller, on Afric's shore. + Near to a forest's side, + That shook with many a monster's roar, + With hasty caution hied. + + But suddenly, full in his way, + A Panther he descries; + Athwart his very road she lay, + And fixt his fearful eyes. + + With backward step, and watchful stare + If refuge there may be; + He hopes to gain, with trembling care, + The refuge of a tree. + + A fruitless hope--the Panther moves, + Perceiving his intent, + And vain his utmost caution proves + Her purpose to prevent. + + But no fierce purpose to destroy + The dreadful beast impells; + Her gesture, blending grief and joy, + Far other motive tells. + + Round him she fawns, with gentle pace; + Her actions all entreat: + She looks imploring in his face, + And licks his hands and feet! + + The traveller, a Roman born, + Was of a generous mind; + He never view'd distress with scorn, + To all that breath'd most kind. + + And soon all selfish fear apart, + His native spirit rose, + The suffering Panther won his heart, + He only felt her woes. + + "Jove help thee gracious beast," he cried, + "Some evil wounds thee sore, + And it shall be my joy and pride, + Thy sorrows to explore!" + + The beast his kindness understood, + Fix'd on his robe a claw, + And gently to the neighb'ring wood, + Appear'd her friend to draw. + + How little is the want of speech, + When kindness rules the heart; + Gesture will then all lessons teach, + That language can impart! + + The Roman, Caelius, was his name, + By brave compassion sway'd, + Conjectur'd all the Panther's aim, + And gave her willing aid. + + For in the forest with his guide, + He hears her wailing young, + To whom the tender beast replied. + With a maternal tongue. + + He sees them only in his thought, + For in a curious snare, + The hapless little creatures caught, + Could only murmur there. + + Deep in an earthy trap they lay, + An iron grate above, + Precluded them from chearful day, + And from a mother's love! + + But quicken'd by the touching sound, + The little captives made, + The generous Caelius clear'd the ground. + And all the snare display'd. + + Two vigorous cubs spring up to light, + And to their parent haste; + Caelius a third, in tenderer plight, + Within the pit embrac'd! + + For in he leap'd, to save the young, + That seem'd to suffer harm; + And swiftly from the pit he sprung, + The cub beneath his arm. + + The conscious nursling lick'd his cheek, + With young endearment sweet, + He kiss'd, and laid it safe, tho' weak, + Before its parent's feet. + + Too faint is language to describe, + The Panther's grateful glee, + Contemplating her little tribe, + From deadly bondage free. + + By gesture, that with meaning glows, + All eloquence above, + She largely, on her friend, bestows, + Protection, thanks, and love! + + Seeing him start, to hear a roar, + That spoke the lion near, + She guides him thro' her wood once more, + And banishes his fear. + + Here (when she brought him to his road) + Her gesture said, "we part!" + With friendship all her features glow'd, + Each movement spoke her heart. + + He shar'd her feelings. "Bless your den," + He said, as he withdrew, + "For gratitude has fled from men, + And seems to live with you!" + + + * * * * * + + + + +THE GRATEFUL SNAKE. + + +BALLAD THE SEVENTH. + + Ingratitude! of earth the shame! + Thou monster, at whose hated name, + The nerves of kindness ake; + Would I could drive thee from mankind, + By telling how a grateful mind, + Once dignified a snake. + + The tale is antient, and is sweet, + To mortals, who with joy repeat, + What soothes the feeling heart; + The first of virtues, that may boast + The power to soothe, and please it most, + Sweet gratitude, thou art. + + The reptile, whom thy beauties raise, + Has an unquestion'd claim to praise, + That justice will confirm! + The Muses, with a graceful pride, + May turn from thankless man aside, + To celebrate a worm! + + In Arcady, grave authors write, + There liv'd a Serpent, the delight, + Of an ingenuous child; + Proud of his kindness, the brave boy. + Fed and caress'd it with a joy, + Heroically mild. + + Pleased all his gambols to attend, + The snake, his playfellow, and friend, + Still in his sight he kept; + The reptile, ever at his side, + Obeys him waking, and with pride, + Would watch him, while he slept! + + Once ere her darling was awake, + The anxious mother saw the snake, + So twin'd around his arm, + She begged her husband to convey + The fondling serpent far away, + For fear of casual harm. + + The happy father of the child, + Himself a being bravely mild, + To her request attends; + Conscious such comrades could not part + Without great anguish of the heart, + He fear'd to wound the friends. + + They both were young, and both had shewn + Affection into habit grown, + With feelings most acute; + Yet to a parent's duty just, + Tho' griev'd to part them, part he must, + The point bears no dispute. + + But with a tenderness of mind + That prov'd him truly not inclined, + Their friendship to destroy; + He form'd a plan, and held it good; + To hurt as little as he could, + The Serpent, or the boy. + + To sleep he both with opiates lur'd, + Then, in their slumber's bond secur'd, + See in his arms they go! + To woody scenes, where for the snake, + (There left entranc'd) when he shall wake, + Both food and shelter grow. + + The slumbering boy awak'd at home, + And miss'd his friend, and wish'd to roam, + And seek the friend he miss'd: + But hearing all his sire had done, + Soon pacified, the grateful son, + Could not such love resist. + + He promis'd, for his mother's sake, + Not to recall his exil'd snake, + Nor wander to his wood; + He was a boy of manly soul, + And true to honour's just controul, + He made his promise good. + + Nature, to these divided friends + Now in their separate lot attends; + Time decks them as he flies; + The child, a graceful stripling grows, + And freedom on the snake bestows, + A formidable size. + + And now it chanc'd the Arcadian youth, + Renown'd for courage, love and truth! + Had sought a favourite maid; + Led by her tender charms to roam, + Forgetting distance from his home, + Abroad too late he stay'd. + + Sooner indeed he meant to start, + To save a watchful parent's heart, + And not one fear excite: + But oft, as nature's records tell, + Ere love can utter his farewell, + Day melts into the night. + + Eager to take the shortest road, + That led to his remote abode, + He thro' a forest sped; + There, by the moon's slow rising beam, + He saw a robber's faulchion gleam, + High brandish'd o'er his head. + + A hunter's javelin in his hand, + He scorn'd the ruffian's base demand, + And made the wretch recoil; + But numbers from a thicket spring, + The youth they hem within a ring, + And threaten to despoil. + + He, then alarm'd, calls loud for aid, + And sudden from the rustling shade, + A wond'rous sound they hear. + The startled ruffians turned in dread; + Some shriek'd, some shouted, and some fled, + Their foe approaches near. + + Against one wretch, of form uncouth, + Who basely struck the encircled youth, + And gave his foot a wound; + This shadowy foe, of silent tongue, + Had from his secret ambush sprung, + And beat him to the ground, + + Another, as he fled in haste, + The youth's defender then embrac'd + With such a deadly clasp; + The villain fell, and in the strife + Groan'd out his miserable life, + In horror's speechless gasp. + + Who can describe the youth's surprise, + When by the moon-beam he descries + The source of his escape! + That aid, who crush'd his murd'rous foes, + To meet his gratitude now rose. + And in a serpent's shape. + + "My Zoe!" (hear him now exclaim) + The child had by that fondling name, + Been used his snake to call: + The reptile heard, and at the sound + Began, with pitying care, around + His wounded foot to crawl. + + The blood she staunch'd, with tender tongue, + Then higher to his hand she sprung, + And lick'd with fond caress! + Her gestures all this truth declare, + "Thy Zoe makes thy life her care, + And joys in her success!" + + The wasting night now wears away; + The youth's fond mother at his stay, + To fear maternal yields; + And doubting of some dire mischance, + She hurries, ere the morn's advance, + To seek him in the fields. + + With what delight, with what amaze, + Her eye her smiling son surveys, + And rolling by his side, + A serpent of triumphant air, + Who seems his fond regard to share, + And serve him as a guide! + + For faithful Zoe would attend + The footsteps of her wounded friend, + 'Till he at home may rest; + His mother learnt her wond'rous truth, + And clasping the dear rescued youth, + His brave confederate blest! + + Zoe no more condemn'd to roam, + Now grew an inmate of their home: + The snake at Athens rear'd, + The symbol of Minerva's power, + Lodg'd as her servant in her tower, + Was never more rever'd. + + Zoe was the delight of all, + Obedient to each friendly call, + From all she honour won; + But her the mother most caresst, + And fondly shew'd to every guest, + The guardian of her son! + + + * * * * * + + + + +THE FATAL HORSE. + + +BALLAD THE EIGHTH. + + Of creatures that to man attend, + His pastime, or his wealth; + The Horse we cherish as a friend, + To sickness and to health. + + Bless them, who shield a steed from woe. + By age from toil releas'd! + And hated be the proud, who shew + No mercy to their beast! + + A wretch once doom'd, tho' rich and strong, + His faithful horse to bleed, + But tell his fate, my moral song, + For that atrocious deed! + + An antient knight, of Kentish race; + Of his athletic frame + Prone to indulge the passions base, + Sir Geoffrin his name, + + Against a priest indulg'd his rage, + Who charitably good, + To shield a widow's helpless age, + His avarice withstood. + + With abject choler fierce and hot, + The knight perforce would gain, + And blend her little garden plot, + With his superb domain. + + The priest, who, on that very ground, + To soothe his wrath would strive, + In frantic passion's fit he bound, + And buried him alive! + + The wretch was seiz'd with shame and fear, + Tho' he his crime would boast: + When suddenly he chanc'd to hear, + His king lay off the coast! + + 'Twas gallant Harold, in that day, + Elate with regal power; + Becalm'd his stately vessel lay, + Near Geoffrin's high tower. + + The royal mercy to surprize, + He now resolves with speed; + "Haste, hither bring," he wildly cries, + "My strongest favourite steed." + + It was a steed of noblest kind, + In spirit and in limb, + On which the desp'rate knight design'd + To the king's ship to swim! + + Now by the swelling ocean's side, + He mounts his courser brave! + Spurs him with domineering pride, + And plunges in the wave! + + Us'd to his bold caprices oft, + And equal to his weight, + The courser toss'd his mane aloft, + And swam with breast elate. + + The knight now flourishes his sword, + As near the ship he draws; + The wond'rous sight strikes all on board, + Who throng to find the cause: + + The sailors round their sov'reign croud, + Who on the vessels stern, + Now hails the knight's approach aloud, + Eager, his aim to learn. + + "Provok'd by villains, one I slew, + And own him rashly slain; + Hence to thy clemency I flew, + My pardon to obtain!" + + "Now by St. George, thou vent'rous knight, + Thy steed has nobly done; + Swim back, and pardon make thee light, + Thy pardon he has won!" + + The knight now with a joyous spring + His horse's neck embrac'd; + Then blessing thrice his gracious king, + He steer'd him back in haste. + + Now, as he touch'd his native sand, + And near his castle gate, + He saw the weeping widow stand, + And mock'd her mournful state. + + "Woman, thy threats touch me no more, + I ride on safety's wing; + My brave horse brings me safe to shore, + With pardon from my king!" + + "Kings seem to grant what God denies, + Trust my prophetic breath," + (So the indignant dame replies) + "That horse shall prove thy death!" + + She spoke, and with a voice so keen, + It search'd his inmost soul, + And caus'd a storm of fearful spleen, + Thro' his dark brain to roll + + Half credulous, half wildly brave, + Now doubt, now rage prevails: + He stood like a black suspended wave, + Struck by two adverse gales. + + A doubt by superstition nurst, + Made all just thoughts recede; + Frantic he wav'd his sword, and pierc'd + His life-preserving steed! + + "Thy prophecies I thus destroy," + He cried, "thou wretched crone; + Threats on my days no more employ, + But tremble for thy own." + + Striding away, his steed he left + In his pure blood to roll, + He quickly, of all aid bereft, + Breath'd out his nobler soul. + + The boastful knight, now gay with pride + By his successful crimes, + Floating on folly's golden tide, + Prosper'd in stormy times. + + Ungrateful both to man and beast + His sovereign he betray'd, + And lent, ere Harold's empire ceas'd, + The Norman treacherous aid. + + The Norman tyrant much carest + This proud and abject slave, + And lands, by worthier lords possest, + For his base succour gave. + + Now years, since that eventful hour, + In which his courser bled, + Had pour'd increase of wealth, and pow'r + On his aspiring head. + + As near, with much enlarged estate, + To his domain he drew; + He chanc'd, before his castle gate, + A signal scene to view. + + The scene his war-steel'd nerves could shock, + Seated on mossy stones + The widow, leaning 'gainst a rock, + Wept o'er his horse's bones. + + Enrag'd from his new steed he vaults, + Quick with his foot to spurn + These bones, that bid his bloody faults + To his base mind return. + + The head, now bleach'd, his proud foot strikes + With such indignant speed, + The bone its fierce aggressor spikes; + It is his turn to bleed. + + The trivial wound the wrathful knight + Disdains to search with care. + But soon he finds, the wound tho' slight, + Death lurks in ambush there. + + Now to his bed of sorrow bound, + By penitential pain, + He seems, by this heart-reaching wound, + A purer mind to gain. + + Near to his couch he bids, with care, + The widow to be brought, + And speaks to her, with soften'd air, + His self-correcting thought. + + "True prophetess! I feel thee now; + So God my crimes forgive, + As I with thee true concord vow: + In comfort may'st thou live." + + "Behold upon this charter'd scroll, + A pictur'd cottage stand, + I give it thee, with all my soul, + And its adjacent land." + + "The only rent I will assume, + Be this. At close of day, + Sit thou, with pity, on my tomb, + And for my spirit pray!" + + "That tomb be rais'd by sculpture's aid, + To warn men from my guilt; + My horse's head beside me laid, + Whose blood I basely spilt!" + + He spoke, he died, the tomb was made, + His statue look'd to Heaven! + And daily then the widow pray'd, + His crimes might be forgiven! + + + * * * * * + + + + +THE LION. + + +BALLAD THE NINTH. + + Lovely woman! how brave is thy soul, + When duty and love are combin'd! + Then danger in vain would controul + Thy tender, yet resolute mind. + + Boulla thus in an African glade, + In her season of beauty and youth, + In the deadliest danger display'd + All the quick-sighted courage of truth. + + Tho' the wife of a peasant, yet none + Her grandeur of heart rose above; + And her husband was nature's true son + In simplicity, labour, and love. + + 'Twas his task, and he manag'd it well, + The herd of his master to guide, + Where a marshy and desolate dell + Daily drink to the cattle supplied. + + In this toil a dear playfellow shar'd, + A little, brave, sensible boy! + Who nobly for manhood prepar'd, + Made every kind office his joy. + + One day as the dell they drew near, + They perceiv'd all the cattle around + Starting wild, in tumultuous fear, + As if thunder had shaken the ground. + + The peasant, in wonder and awe, + Keenly search'd for the cause of their fright; + Very soon it's just motive he saw, + And he shudder'd himself at the sight; + + For couch'd in the midst of the glade + An enormous fierce Lion he view'd; + His eye-balls shot flame thro' the shade, + And with gore his vast jaw was imbru'd. + + "Fly boy to thy mother, be sure! + Dear child do not tremble for me! + I fear not if thou art secure; + I shall 'scape in the limbs of a tree." + + He spoke, flying light as the breeze, + His cattle were scatter'd before, + Them he thought that the Lion would seize, + And for human food hunger no more. + + But athirst for the blood of a man, + All the herd he in fury disdain'd; + And leapt at the bough, as he ran, + Which the peasant had rapidly gain'd. + + He leapt, but he fail'd of his prey; + For the peasant was happily higher: + Beneath him, indignant, he lay, + And watch'd him with vigilant ire. + + The boy had his father obey'd, + And ran for his rustic abode; + And oft turning, that father survey'd, + And hardly remember'd his road. + + But when, with a burst of delight. + His father he saw in a tree, + He lost all his sense of affright, + And his terror was turn'd into glee. + + Then quick to his mother he sped, + And quickly his story he told: + As she heard it, she shudder'd with dread; + But love made her suddenly bold. + + She remember'd, that oft to her boy + She a lesson of archery gave: + Then the bow she resolv'd to employ, + And by courage his father to save. + + Soon forth from a curious old chest + A bundle of arrows she drew; + The gift of a warrior, their guest, + And ting'd with a poisonous glue! + + With a bow, that the chief us'd alone, + Which her arm could not easily draw: + This bow she preferr'd to her own, + In these moments of hope and of awe. + + And now they both haste from their cot, + The stripling his mother before, + And keenly he shew'd her the spot, + As the bow he exultingly bore. + + More cautious as now they advance, + The boy, to his eager desire, + Espied, with a love-guided glance, + The half-shrouded head of his sire. + + He leapt, with a rapturous joy; + But, marking the Lion below, + In silence the spirited boy + Made ready the powerful bow. + + From his mother an arrow he caught, + In hope's youthful extacy hot; + And softly said, quick as his thought, + "O grant to my hand the first shot." + + His entreaty she could not refuse, + Yet hardly had time to consent; + Impatient his aim not to lose, + The stripling the bow would have bent. + + He labour'd to bend it in vain; + It surpass'd all the strength of his years: + The brave boy full of anguish and pain, + Let it fall to the ground with his tears. + + His father beheld him with grief, + Seeing both, he yet more and more grieves, + While his eyes, as in search of relief, + Look forth from his refuge of leaves. + + But Boulla, who caught his keen eye, + Now grasp'd her adventurous bow, + And, with prayers addrest to the sky, + She aim'd at the Lion below. + + Good angels! her arrow direct! + On its flight these dear beings depend, + Whose kindness, by danger uncheck'd, + Has deserv'd to find Heaven their friend. + + See the beast! Lo! his eye-balls yet burn, + On his prey he still gloats, with a yawn, + Yet the woman he does not discern; + And her bow is undauntedly drawn. + + O love! it is thine to impart + Such force, as none else can bestow-- + She has shot with the strength of her heart, + She has pierced her infuriate foe. + + While his jaws were enormously spread, + (The truth of her archery see!) + Thro' his cheek her sure arrow has sped; + It fastens his flesh to the tree. + + Too soon of her conquest secure, + She runs within reach of his claw, + But in tortures he cannot endure, + He has struck her to earth with his paw. + + Lo! anxious the peasant descends: + Good peasant no more be afraid! + Heaven sent her the bravest of friends, + In the boy who has rush'd to her aid. + + Before thou couldst spring to the ground, + Her boy made her triumph complete; + And contriving a marvellous wound, + He has stretch'd her foe dead at her feet. + + From the tree by his struggles releas'd, + While he roll'd in his own blood afloat + Brave Demba ran up to the beast, + And darted ten shafts in his throat. + + Their poisons collected afford + Lethargic relief to his pangs; + And Death! of all nature the lord! + Thy shadows now rest on his fangs. + + Now love! thy own fancy employ! + For words are too feeble to trace + The father, the mother, the boy, + In triumph's extatic embrace. + + + * * * * * + + + + +THE SWAN. + + +BALLAD THE TENTH. + + Kind Heaven will oft a lesson give + If mortals are inclined to learn; + To shew how simplest things that live, + To kindness make a rich return. + + Tho' fiction speaks of dying notes, + Sung by the swan in death resign'd; + Is there a tribe, that flies or floats, + Of sense, or feeling, less refin'd? + + Yet simple as this bird we deem, + My faithful ballad shall attest, + One Swan displayed on Thames's stream, + A feeling and a friendly breast + + Cecilia liv'd on Thames's bank, + A young and lovely married fair; + To creatures kind of every rank, + A favourite Swan had own'd her care. + + Her lord, a merchant, frank and young, + By probity was known to thrive; + Their bliss enliven'd every tongue, + They were the happiest pair alive; + + For to increase their nuptial joy + And their domestic scene adorn; + Heaven crown'd their blessings with a boy, + A finer boy was never born. + + His sportive life had only run + To six short months, how brief a date! + When gay Cecilia's darling son, + Was threaten'd with a deadly fate! + + Her garden had a terrace fair, + Beneath it, full the river flow'd, + There she enjoyed the evening air, + Her favourite Swan there proudly row'd. + + The mother in her active arms, + To make her boy benignly mild; + And nobly proof 'gainst all alarms, + There oft would exercise her child. + + A boat-house by the terrace side, + Shelter'd a small and simple boat: + And sometimes half way o'er the tide + Chain'd to its home, it us'd to float. + + Here she, her infant, and her maid, + Sport with the Swan, and give it bread; + While her gay boy, of nought afraid, + With lively transport sees it fed. + + 'Tis June--a sultry tempest wild + Impends, Cecilia would retire, + But checks herself to teach her child, + The vivid light'ning to admire. + + Her noble mind delights to rear + In early fortitude, her boy; + That he the voice of God may hear, + With admiration's awful joy! + + While to regain the vessel's shed, + Her maid an active pilot stands; + She to the music o'er her head, + Dances the child with dauntless hands. + + But whirlwinds rise: the vessel reel'd, + Heaven! the sweet parent is o'erthrown: + Her falling head she fails to shield, + Attentive to her child alone. + + Tis the tornado's ruthless blast; + The mother stunn'd, the babe it bears + Far from her senseless frame! aghast + The maid, in speechless horror glares! + + Yet swiftly to its proper shore, + The whirlwind now the vessel drives, + Where by the elemental roar + Alarm'd, Cecilia's lord arrives. + + Into the boat behold him bound, + He lifts his lifeless wife upright: + She wakens to the thunder's sound; + Her opening eyes regain the light. + + "Where is my child?" she faintly cries; + "Where is the child?" her lord rejoin'd: + Poor heart-struck Susan nought replies, + The child had vanished from her mind. + + "My child! my child!" with terror's start + She shrieks, in accents wild and shrill; + And at her agony of heart, + The very tempest's self grew still! + + "Say if you saw him sink!" she cried, + Wildly to Susan pale and wan: + When quick her roving eye descried, + The tall neck of her favourite Swan. + + "My God! my God! 'tis thee I thank!" + Exclaim'd the now exulting fair; + "I see him wafted to the bank, + His cradle form'd by heavenly care!" + + She spoke, and all who heard her cry, + Now saw the babe divinely nurst; + The extatic sight from every eye, + Made tears of grateful transport burst. + + Between her silvery arching wings, + The guardian bird had lodg'd the child; + And forward as her broad foot springs, + At every stroke the infant smil'd. + + And with a heaven-implanted pride, + Superbly rowing now to land; + The brave bird has her charge denied + To all, but to the mother's hand. + + Cecilia feeling now no pains, + Leans o'er the boat's advancing end; + And aided by her lord reclaims, + The present of her feather'd friend. + + Now with delight the rescued boy, + To her maternal bosom springs: + The conscious Swan partakes their joy, + And claps her proud triumphant wings. + + Cecilia beads to weep and pray, + She weeps with joy, no longer wan; + And still on this returning day, + Blesses the heaven-directed Swan! + + + + + +THE HERMIT'S DOG. + + +BALLAD THE ELEVENTH. + + Of dogs who sav'd a living friend, + Most nobly, ye have read: + Now to a nobler still attend, + A guardian of the dead. + + As o'er wild Alpine scenes I stray'd, + Not far from that retreat, + Where Bruno, with celestial aid, + First plann'd his sacred seat. + + An anchorite of noble mien, + Attracted my regard; + Majestic as that savage scene, + Or as a Cambrian bard. + + He to no silent dome belongs, + The rock is his domain; + It echoes to his nightly songs + Devotion's lonely strain. + + His mansion is a tranquil grot, + Form'd in the living stone: + My view of the sequester'd spot, + I owe to chance alone. + + For happening near his cell to rove, + Enamour'd of the wild; + I heard within a piny grove + What seem'd a plaintive child. + + The distant cry so struck my ear, + I hasten'd to the ground, + But saw surpris'd, as I drew near, + The author of the sound. + + No human form, yet one I thought, + With human feelings fill'd, + And from his tongue, by nature taught, + Strange notes of sorrow thrill'd. + + Unseen myself, I clearly saw + A dog that couchant moan'd; + He struck the hard earth with his paw, + Then look'd at Heaven, and groan'd! + + With silent caution I drew near, + To mark this friend of man, + Expressing grief in sobs so clear, + It through my bosom ran! + + The noble beast was black as jet, + And as a lion large; + He look'd as on a tombstone set, + To hold the dead in charge. + + Grand was his visage, round his neck + Broad silver rings he wore; + These rings, that his dark body deck, + The cross of Malta bore. + + I gaz'd, but soon my steps, tho' soft, + Announced a stranger near; + The brave beast bounded up aloft, + Nor was I free from fear. + + But soon his master's voice represt + And call'd him to his side: + And soon I was the hermit's guest, + He was my guard and guide. + + My own intrusion to excuse, + The wond'rous dog I prais'd, + Whose milder mien my eye reviews, + Delighted and amaz'd! + + "If I disturb thy calm retreat, + Divinely calm indeed, + The noble servant at thy feet, + May for my pardon plead." + + "That noble servant in my sight + Whom strength and grace adorn, + Announces, if I read aright, + A master nobly born." + + The sire replied, with graceful bend, + "No not my servant, he! + A noble independent friend, + He deigns to live with me!" + + "But, stranger, if you kindly rest, + His story you shall hear, + And all that makes my sable guest, + Most singularly dear." + + "Here it has been my chosen lot, + Some awful years to spend! + Few months have pass'd, since near this spot + I gain'd this signal friend." + + "This friend, with whom to live and die, + Is now my dearest aim; + He likes the world no more than I, + And Hero is his name." + + "Some two miles off, as near a wood, + Of deepest gloom I stray'd; + Struck by strange sounds, I wond'ring stood, + They echoed from the shade." + + "First like a noise in troubled dreams, + But soon distinct I heard, + A dog's triumphant bark, and screams, + That spoke a dying bird." + + "A bird of loud portentous note, + One of the vulture race, + Which shepherds will to death devote, + In sanguinary chace." + + "I thought some shepherd's joy to share, + And hurried to the sound: + To what I had expected there + Far different scene I found." + + "A man, of blood-bespotted vest, + I saw upon the earth; + And Malta's cross upon his breast, + Spoke him of noble birth." + + "Misfortune long had press'd him sore; + I know not how he died; + He had been dead two days or more, + When I his corse descried." + + "Him, as their prey, two vultures seek, + With ravenous rage abhorr'd; + But Hero guarded from their beak, + The visage of his lord!" + + "When first my eyes on Hero glanc'd, + One vulture he had slain: + The second scar'd as I advanced, + Flew off in fearful pain." + + "Enchanted with a guard so brave, + So faithful to the dead: + The wounded dog to soothe and save, + With beating heart I sped." + + "He lick'd my hand, by me carest, + But him with grief I saw + Half famish'd, and his gallant breast + Gor'd by the vulture's claw!" + + "Tho' anxious o'er his wounds I bend; + By kindness or by force, + I could not tempt this generous friend. + To quit the pallid corse!" + + "The body to my cell I bear; + This mourner with it moved; + Then he submitted to my care, + And all my aid approv'd." + + "In the soft stone, that's near my cell, + I soon entomb'd the dead; + With stone above I shield him well, + And laurels round I spread." + + "Oft to the spot with mournful praise, + The mindful Hero springs, + And in such notes, as he can raise, + A requiem he sings." + + "Dear faithful dog! if man to me + Had half thy virtue shewn, + From social life I should not flee, + To roam the wild alone!" + + "No! not alone, nor yet in woe, + While here thy virtues shine, + For I defy the world to shew + Associate like to mine!" + + The dog, he now press'd to his heart, + Then utter'd this desire; + "Stranger if thine a poet's art, + Let Hero wake thy lyre!" + + His wish was kind--may love so true. + Ne'er want its wishes long: + Thus from his fond suggestion grew, + This tributary song. + + + * * * * * + + + + +THE HALCYON. + + +BALLAD THE TWELFTH. + + Not only men of stormy minds, + The storms of trouble know, + All creatures of this earth must find + A share of earthly woe! + + Ye whose pure hearts with pity swell, + For pain by all incurr'd; + Hear how affliction once befell, + Serenity's sweet bird. + + Ye fair, who in your carols praise + The Halcyon's happy state; + Hear in compassionate amaze, + One Halcyon's hapless fate. + + A nymph, Selina is her name, + Lovely in mind and mien, + When spring, however early, came, + Was fond of walks marine. + + Between a woman and a child, + In tender charms she grew, + And lov'd with fancy sweetly wild, + The lonely shore to view. + + Nature she studied, every spring, + To all her offspring kind, + And taught the birds of wildest wing, + To trust her gentle mind. + + Now brilliant in her youthful eye, + The Halcyon's feathers flame; + She wish'd a pair of these, tho' shy, + Affectionately tame. + + Nor wish'd she long, for such her care; + Such her attractive skill; + She makes e'en rovers of the air, + Attentive to her will. + + When stormy March had ceas'd to roar, + Selina joy'd to rove; + And watch a Halcyon on the shore, + Within a little cove. + + Familiariz'd by slow degrees, + They met in friendly mood; + 'Till her bright favourite on her knees, + Would perch for offer'd food. + + How joyous was Selina's breast, + When thus she had prevail'd; + Each coming of her radiant guest, + How tenderly she hail'd. + + It seem'd her guest, so frequent here, + The damsel us'd to roam; + And deem'd this little cove so dear, + Her palace and her home. + + When April's sun the coast had warm'd, + New joy the nymph possest: + She saw her favourite bird had form'd, + A curious downy nest. + + How did her tender heart rejoice, + What prayers she then preferred, + That she might with her tuneful voice, + Delight the brooding bird. + + Gay nature smil'd, the prayer she blest, + Selina softly sung; + And felt delight of higher zest; + She nurst the callow young. + + But Oh! when human pleasures rise, + To enviable height; + How subtly dark misfortune flies, + To crush them in her flight. + + One morn, as nigh the cove so dear, + The quick Selina came: + A sight, which caus'd her grievous fear, + Convuls'd her tender frame! + + Near it she draws, but entrance there + A swelling sea denies; + For hostile to her callow care, + The cruel waters rise. + + Close to this cove's contracted side, + Three massive stones were laid; + Oft in bare sand, now scarce descried, + Fresh surges round them play'd. + + To one, the nearest to the cell, + Alarm'd, Selina wades; + To mark how far the wild wave's swell, + Her darling cove invades. + + Behold she kneels! with folded hands, + Kneels on the rugged stone: + Whence now her anxious eye commands, + The cell once deem'd her own! + + How keen her anguish to survey, + The tide fill half the cove; + Forth from its seat, with savage sway, + Her Halcyon's nest it drove. + + The nest now floats, and from the shore, + The tortur'd parent sprung, + With wildest terror hovers o'er, + And shrieks around her young! + + Selina marks the barbarous sea, + The leaky nest divide; + And bold her little friends to free, + She plunges in the tide! + + The tender sinking tribe she caught, + But ah! she caught too late! + More rapid, than her generous thought, + Was unrelenting fate. + + In vain, with tender pity's clasp, + To her warm breast she holds + The young, whom death's remorseless grasp + In his dark shade infolds. + + Off flew the parent in despair, + Her heart appears to burn; + Nor can the sympathetic fair + Persuade her to return. + + She, bearing in her robe the dead, + The parent calls anew; + 'Till rising rocks, that near them spread, + Conceals her from the view. + + Here she despairing now to heal + The wretched parent's pain, + Sat on a rock, in sorrowing zeal, + And kiss'd the dead again! + + Her tender nerves confess'd a shock, + To hear a sudden gun! + A smuggler's vessel from the rock, + She now perceives to run. + + But with what grief the sound she heard; + How pants her heart with dread, + As she beholds her favourite bird + Now fluttering o'er her head. + + That flutter is the gasp of death! + As conscious of it's nest, + It breathes to her its parting breath, + And falls upon her breast! + + Weep not sweet nymph, with vain regret, + Your favourite's lifeless state; + But rather think that it has met + An enviable fate. + + Yes! to this gentle bird indeed, + It's mercy Heaven has shewn; + And in it's end you now may read + An emblem of your own. + + When you, dear nymph, have suffer'd all + Your share of earthly woe; + O may that portion be as small + As mortal e'er may know! + + Close in a death, like infant's rest, + Those heaven-reflecting eyes; + And dropping on an angel's breast, + Be wafted to the skies! + + + * * * * * + + + + +THE SERPENTS. + + +BALLAD THE THIRTEENTH. + + Now blest be Providence divine, + Surpassing human skill! + That often takes from things malign, + The privilege of ill. + + Good folks! who love a simple strain. + That seems like fancy's sound; + Rejoicing, when in nature's reign, + The marvellous is found, + + As strange a tale, as history knows, + Accept in artless rhyme: + An honest Greek relates in prose, + This wonder of old time. + + The antients gloried to describe, + And held such wonders dear; + For of the Psylli's signal tribe, + 'Twas their delight to hear. + + The Psylli were an Afric clan, + Of wond'rous power possest; + Fierce snakes, of enmity to man, + They could with ease divest. + + This gift they boasted with delight, + A gift to them confin'd; + Exemption from the viper's bite, + Of most malignant kind. + + This native gift they deem'd a test, + To prove their genuine race; + By every _true-born_ child possest, + Not granted to the _base_! + + In brains that burn from Afric suns, + Mad jealousy will rise, + Till thro' the heart the frenzy runs, + And bursts all tender ties. + + A Lybian of this far fam'd clan, + Had dream'd his wife untrue, + And soon the madd'ning wretch began + His child with hate to view. + + That child, which till his fatal dream + Was from base slander bred; + The happy sire, with joy extreme, + Had fondled, blest, and fed. + + And never infant more deserv'd + To prove his father's joy: + Of two years old, and nobly nerv'd, + A brave Herculean boy. + + Nature, with passion, long at strife, + Contended in his breast; + Till to expose his infant's life, + He form'd a deadly test! + + No common trial would suffice, + For his suspicious mind; + His rage a trial would devise, + Of most tremendous kind. + + Sansado, so the wretch was nam'd, + A cruel brother taught: + With equal jealousy inflam'd, + To aid his barb'rous thought. + + Him, many a deadly snake to feed, + Sansado would engage; + And more, by many a noxious weed, + Exasperate their rage. + + And now the settled day arrives, + Fixt for their savage joy; + To risk two unprotected lives, + Poor Neela and her boy. + + For if, so jealous rage decreed, + One reptile wounds the child; + Neela upon that couch must bleed, + They think she has defil'd. + + God save thee Neela in a strife, + By nature's heart abhorr'd: + And God defend each hapless wife, + Who has a jealous lord! + + But see the brothers, bent on ill! + Neela yet kind and calm, + Beholds a knot of Snakes, that fill + A basket made of palm! + + No fear her blameless mind alarms: + But quick with scornful joy, + One basely holds her by the arms; + One grasps her fondling boy. + + The sire himself, with gesture wild, + His thoughtless offspring takes; + And seats his unoffending child + Amidst these angry Snakes! + + Angry at first, they foam'd around + The boy, who on them prest; + He unappall'd sat gayly crown'd, + With many a shining crest! + + Stretching his little hands he play'd, + Unconscious of a fear, + With all the monsters he survey'd, + And smil'd at every spear. + + Now free, but with a fixt disdain, + Behold the mother stand! + She frowns upon the brothers twain, + Nor takes the proffer'd hand. + + "Do not, dear wife, my kindness shun, + Henceforth my comfort be; + And let us jointly bless my son, + Who witnesses for thee;" + + So with quick speed Sansado cried, + With mingled joy and shame: + The noble Neela, thus replied, + With eyes of temperate flame. + + "No, I renounce thee, and thy roof: + For Heaven who shields my young, + Bids me abjure thy love, not proof + 'Gainst slander's vip'rous tongue." + + "It is my duty to desert + A guard I must despise: + Farewell weak man, my child unhurt + On Providence relies." + + "Now brave; a coward he might turn + Beneath thy base controul; + But from his mother he shall learn, + The empire of the soul." + + She spoke, she kept, with truth most rare, + Her purpose nobly wild, + And made, by her maternal care, + A hero of her child. + + + * * * * * + + + + +THE GOAT. + + +BALLAD THE FOURTEENTH. + + "Can mothers of our English isle, + The pride of all the earth, + From any tribe of tender brutes, + A mother's duly learn?" + So to a shepherd of the Alps, + A guest of noble birth, + A traveller of English race + Said on the swain's return; + + When bringing to his simple cot + A Goat of signal grace, + He, to his foreign guest, display'd + The ornament she wore; + It was a splendid silver toy, + It's folds her neck embrace, + And it's rich centre, highly wrought, + This grateful motto bore: + + _Dear animal! This trinket wear, + Mark of thy mental beauty! + For teaching to an English fair, + A mother's highest duty_! + + "Good shepherd thou hast much to tell, + Some curious tender tale, + Thy kindness I with joy accept, + To rest beneath thy roof; + For now I see an evening storm + Is sweeping o'er the vale, + And here in this thy airy nest + I well can sleep aloof." + + "But tell me, who has so adorn'd + Thy tame and pretty Goat?"-- + "Ah! sir", (the white-hair'd shepherd said,) + "It was a lovely fair; + A lady of the sweetest face + That ever eyes could note, + But she was plung'd in darkest depths + Of cruel craz'd despair." + + "My Goat her guardian angel prov'd, + As she herself allow'd, + And hence her little neck appears + So brilliant and so brave; + No longer mine, she has a queen, + Of whom she may be proud, + And sure an angel might be proud + So sweet a soul to save." + + "But rest, sir, on my humble bench, + And take my simple cheer, + And I will tell you, all you ask, + With hearty frank good will: + A story of no trifling sort, + In truth, you have to hear, + Yet, like the most of mortal scenes, + A mass of good and ill." + + "But say, my pleasant, honest friend," + (The traveller replied,) + "Where is the lovely English fair, + That you so much admire?"-- + "Before you hear where now she goes, + (And God be still her guide!) + Her sufferings here let me relate," + (Rejoin'd the sighing sire.) + + "Of all the sufferers I have seen, + She was indeed the prime, + That of a deeply wounded heart, + Most keenly felt the throes: + 'Twas agony to see her grief; + And even at this time, + My foolish eyes grow full of tears + In thinking of her woes!" + + "No! ne'er shall I forget that eve, + When I beheld her first, + Ah! little thought my dame and I + Such guest with us would dwell; + With pity my old woman's heart + Was even like to burst, + When this sweet lady first implor'd, + A refuge in our cell." + + "'I do not ask to live with you, + I am not fit to live!' + (The beauteous mourner meekly cried + Approaching to our cot:) + 'Your pity, to my babe and me, + Good aged friends! may give + All that we ask; to die with you, + To die, and be forgot!'" + + "'Twas so the piteous pilgrim spake, + With eyes that glisten'd wild; + For privilege to die with you, + We give you all our gold; + For bitterer want, than want of wealth, + For want of love my child, + My child, must, like his mother, waste, + And both will soon be cold!" + + "So speaking, to my dame she held + A lovely little boy, + Who speechless, yet seem'd sorely griev'd + To see his mother weep; + My good old dame is soft of heart. + And children are her joy; + So she, who cherished both her guests. + Soon lull'd the babe to sleep." + + "But sleep to that sweet lady's eyes + Had seem'd to bid farewell, + And sometimes she would wildly say, + There's but one sleep for me! + So deep her woe sunk in her heart: + Tho' she was loath to tell, + My tender dame, discreetly guess'd, + What that deep woe must be." + + "By cruel man, of cruel things, + Most cruel in his love! + This suffering innocent had been + To darkest frenzy driven; + Tho' in it's nature her soft heart + Is gentle as a dove, + And, save one frantic thought, ne'er had + A fault to be forgiven!" + + "That frantic thought was a desire, + To end her wretched life; + But you shall hear how nature strove + To soothe her stormy breast: + For all her struggles, one and all, + She told my good old wife, + And how this little darling Goat, + She as her guardian-blest." + + "To heal her grief we both had tried, + But both had tried in vain. + When this dear sufferer in our shed + Three mournful weeks had spent: + While sleep press'd on our aged eyes, + One morn in heart-felt pain + Bearing her baby in her arms, + To yon high cliff she went." + + "Her purpose was, as since she said, + From base mankind to fly, + And with her nursling on her breast + To take a fatal leap; + But when she scal'd the topmost crag, + That seems to touch the sky, + Her little infant shriek'd to view + A precipice so deep!" + + "His voice wak'd nature in her heart, + She wish'd to die alone, + And in a safe, and hollow rock, + Her lovely babe she plac'd; + Then thinking his pure life preserv'd, + Yet bent to end her own; + She to the summit mounts again, + In wild and breathless haste!" + + "The horrid precipice below + She deems the vale of peace, + And having in a parting prayer + Pray'd fondly for her child, + She feels a wish to look yet once + Before her sufferings cease, + If calm her heaven-commended babe + In solitude has smil'd." + + "With this desire she gently creeps + With anxious love to view + The mossy cove of hollow stone, + Where he is softly laid; + Now near that most attractive spot, + By slow degrees, she drew, + And there an unexpected sight + She suddenly survey'd." + + "It was my little darling Goat + Who cherishing the boy, + With copious draughts of morning milk + His grateful lips supplied; + Her tears burst forth: she kneel'd, she pray'd, + But now she pray'd in joy, + For Heaven had kindled in her breast + A mother's vital pride." + + "O how angelic was the light + That on her visage shone! + When now returning to our cot + Her old friends she carest: + And, all her wild delirium past, + With self-reproof made known, + The gracious wonders God had wrought, + In her enlighten'd breast!" + + "Your blessed Goat, my friends", she said, + "With your indulgent leave, + My comrade, thro' my future life + My monitor shall be; + For now with heart-reform'd, I hope, + I, not too late, perceive, + How Heaven this tender creature sent, + Tho' dumb, to lecture me." + + "I wish that all the earth might know, + For suffering pride's relief, + How this heaven-guided animal + In scenes so roughly wild; + A wicked mother has reclaim'd + Who lost in selfish grief, + Neglected nature's highest charge, + The nursing of her child!" + + "'Twas wounded pride, my good old friends, + My heart you will not blame, + That rack'd my agonizing breast, + And set my brain on fire; + The thought to fall from honour's sphere + In undeserved shame, + And see my baby, and myself; + The torment of his sire!" + + "No! No! his torment tho' preserv'd, + Our lives shall never prove, + His hard desertion we forgive! + Desertion by constraint: + From every angry passion free + My lips shall only move, + To utter blessings on his head, + And never breathe complaint." + + "Tho' of our marriage every proof + Has basely been suppresst, + By his proud father's cruel guile + To wrong my babe and me:"-- + "My God!" (the traveller exclaims) + By hope and doubt distrest, + "Shepherd, if you would save my life, + That lady let me see!" + + "You must be patient noble sir," + The gentle swain rejoins, + "For she beneath her brother's care, + With my good dame her guide, + This morning to our city went + That in the valley shines, + Upon a safe and easy mule, + By turns to walk and ride." + + "Beneath her brother's care--you say, + Then all my hope is fled, + Yet no--perchance from India come, + Heard you that brother's name?" + "O yes! from India come, like one + Returning from the dead; + My blest Horatio, oft to him + His sister would exclaim!"-- + + "Enough, good Heaven!" in transport now, + In transport fondly wild, + The stranger clasp'd the good old swain + With tears of tender glee; + "My father! yes!" he cried, "thy care + Has sav'd my wife and child! + And as a father to my heart + Henceforward thou shalt be." + + "Their sufferings rose not from my fault, + But from the fault of one, + Whom Heaven has call'd to his account, + Whose faults I wish to hide; + But vanish all ye sorrows past + In joy's effulgent sun, + And that sweet sufferer quick to cheer, + Good father be my guide!" + + "Ah noble sir! if you bestow + So dear a name on me, + Allow me, with a father's fears, + To check your hasty joy; + If you surprise her heart with bliss + So wond'rous in degree, + That tender frame, you wish to save, + You surely will destroy." + + "Be patient here, good sir, to night, + As was your first intent, + And by to-morrow's noon your eyes + Shall look on their delight; + For hither they will all return, + As kindly as they went, + And truly when you see them all, + You'll see a goodly sight." + + "But you must let my careful age + Your eager love restrain, + And suffer me in my odd guise. + Your lady to prepare; + To meet a burst of mortal bliss + That might o'erset the brain + Of such a tender feeling soul, + Most delicately fair." + + "Ah sir! old shepherd as I seem, + I know the sex full well, + In truth I studied nought beside, + In all my early life; + And underneath the cope of Heaven, + No lady can there dwell, + More worthy of the fondest care, + Than your angelic wife." + + The good old man so charm'd his guest, + As they familiar grew, + The stranger to his guidance bent, + Tho' born of spirit high: + At last the long'd-for hour was come, + On what slow wings it flew! + But now the dear returning group, + They from the hill descry. + + When he his distant friends espied, + The fondly anxious swain, + Station'd his guest, with beating heart, + Behind his cottage door; + And, in concealment, made him vow, + That he would fixt remain, + While cautious age pursued its plan, + Within the porch before. + + For these a spacious shady porch, + Rais'd by the shepherd's skill, + With creeping foliage sweetly grac'd, + Presents a pleasant seat; + Most grateful to the pilgrim's sight + Just mounted up the hill, + And there the shepherd and the Goat, + Now wait their friends to greet. + + And soon his favourite dog announced + His near approaching dame, + Who mounted on her mule arrived, + Before her youngest guest; + Supported by her brother's arm + The sweet Amelia came, + And bearing; with maternal pride, + Her baby on her breast. + + Seeing the Goat, the lively babe + Put forth his hands and smil'd; + The mother blest the grateful act + With smiles of sweeter grace, + And held him to his guardian nurse, + While the delighted child + Suffer'd the Goat's soft shaggy lips + To fondle o'er his face! + + "My Goat and I are prophets both!" + The eager shepherd cried, + "We both discover wond'rous good, + And time will make it clear: + Good for this heaven-protected babe, + Our nursling and our pride, + We of Amelia's lord have heard, + What she will joy to hear." + + "Yes, tho' he must not live for me, + I in his life rejoice!" + With eyes where sudden joy and pain, + With mingled flashes shone, + The fond Amelia faintly, said, + And in a troubled voice: + "He for his dear Amelia lives, + And lives for her alone!" + + So cried her latent lord, who now + Rush'd from the cottage sill, + And all the extacy indulged + He could no more contain; + It was a scene of speechless joy, + That words would paint but ill, + A moment of such joy o'erpays + A century of pain. + + Supremely happy, one and all, + All blest their present lot, + And all for England soon exchanged, + That scene so sweetly wild: + And well ye judge, by all these friends + The Goat was ne'er forgot, + No, she and every kid she bore + Was cherish'd as a child. + + + * * * * * + + + + +THE BAYA: OR THE INDIAN BIRD. + + +BALLAD THE FIFTEENTH. + + Let the Nightingale still be renown'd for her song, + The Eagle for strength, and for softness the Dove, + Higher praise to the Baya of India belongs, + For gentle docility, duty and love. + + The Baya, dear nymphs, is a delicate bird, + Of intelligent zeal, in our climate unknown; + A bird, in the service of lovers preferr'd + To the turtle, that Venus regards as her own. + + The Baya not only will bear in his beak + The letter a youth to his nymph would convey; + But if from her person some jewel he seek, + This bird, at his nod, gently plucks it away. + + It chanc'd in Circassia a lovely young maid, + On her beautiful neck wore a crescent of gold, + Hermossan, her lover, the trinket survey'd, + And wish'd in his bosom the gem to infold. + + A Baya he cherished, the first of its kind, + At a call to accomplish his master's behest; + This bird, who display'd both a heart, and a mind, + He commission'd to rifle fair Azima's breast. + + The bird's gentle manners she often had prais'd, + And begg'd from her lover a vassal so sweet; + "To the honour of serving you he shall be rais'd," + Said her lover, "whenever his skill is complete." + + The extent of his talents the youth wish'd to find, + As the bird with new lessons be daily carest; + To his skill and obedience this charge he assigned, + To bring him the crescent from Azima's breast. + + The bird who himself lov'd the damsel to court, + On her shoulder first perch'd with endearment and joy; + With his beak he then snapt it's strong silken support, + And bore from her bosom the glittering toy. + + The nymph half in anger the plunderer chac'd, + But she fail'd to regain or the gem, or the cord; + For gayly he flew; and with rapturous haste, + His plunder consigned to the hand of his lord. + + Her woman was charm'd, when the bird he perceiv'd, + And more was he charm'd when the damsel advanc'd, + For the nymph too in haste, half delighted, half griev'd, + Demanded the crescent, on which her eye glanc'd. + + 'Twas a charm Turkish hands had once fixt on her neck + But a charm that her lover refus'd to replace; + "Thy hand my dear girl, with a gem let me deck, + Of more magical force, of more luminous grace!" + + "My bird and my ring, both of wonderous power! + Dear Azima! now as thy treasures receive; + For they both shall be thine, they are virtue's just dower + And thro' life may they never my Azima leave." + + "For O! if they leave thee, or lost, or destroy'd, + That bliss, which our union I trust will ensure, + Must vanish, and leave in each heart such a void, + That our permanent anguish no magic can cure." + + He spoke, and the bird on her shoulder he plac'd, + Then pressing the hand of his delicate fair; + That hand with a ring of one ruby he grac'd, + With a motto in Arabic, "never despair!" + + "Let these words my sweet love be a shield to thy heart, + While I from thy sight am by fortune debarr'd; + For a journey of months I to-morrow depart, + But love will restore me, thy husband! thy guard!" + + They kiss'd, and they parted: 'twas fortune's behest, + Who rules over love with a tyrannous sway; + But the nymph kiss'd her ring, and her bird she carest, + When her eye could no longer Hermossan survey. + + She said, as she play'd with her vigilant bird, + "Thy name be Anglama, then best of thy kind:" + Anglama to her a significant word, + Express'd all the light of a luminous mind. + + The bird seem'd with joy his new title to feel, + At the sound of Anglama his eye was a flame, + That flashed with intelligence, duty, and zeal, + Her behests he obeyed at the sound of his name. + + To prove and reward him, was Azima's pride. + As round her he flew, upon liberty's wing; + In her chamber she oft her lov'd ruby would hide. + And exclaim, my Anglama, "go seek for my ring!" + + However concealed the quick bird was so keen, + He never once failed to bring back the lost gem; + To his mistress he gave it with gesture serene, + Her sweet-meats repaid him; he lived upon them. + + How often the sport of an innocent breast, + Is by Providence favour'd for some gracious end, + And gentle dumb creatures, with kindness carest, + That kindness repay in the shape of a friend! + + But little sweet Azima dreamt, as she taught, + Her bird thus to play with a jewel so dear; + That the lesson his love with alacrity caught, + Might soothe her with hope, in a season of fear. + + That season approaches, gay Azima grew + Of an old helpless father, the pride and the heir; + Her treasures were coveted not by a few, + And by one, of a heart not inclined to despair. + + Hermossan's chief rival, an arrogant youth, + An Armenian his father! his mother a Turk! + That mother, more noted for cunning, than truth, + On Azima's fancy had studied to work. + + The crescent, to give her young bosom alarm, + On the child she had fix'd with a soft silken cord; + To persuade the gay nymph, by this magical charm, + That none but a Mussulman must be her lord. + + Hermossan a Persian, more noble and true. + As to woman she rose, put those fancies to flight; + But Ayesha, who watch'd with a mischievous view, + Soon the ruby surveyed, and survey'd it with spite. + + She saw, 'twas a talisman fashioned by love, + Which she hoped to destroy by a daring device; + And, purloining the ring, as it lay in a glove, + With a diamond replaced it, far richer in price. + + With her prize she escaped, from her visit uncheck'd; + Soon a change so unwish'd, was to Azima known, + She detested the diamond, with which she was deckt, + Sent back the new gem, and demanded her own. + + See Ayesha's bold son now with arrogance plead, + To obtain for his parent the pardon of love! + The damsel, indignant, abhors the base deed, + Still demanding her ruby, all diamonds above. + + The crafty Ayesha her son would persuade, + That Azima's anger in time must decay; + She knew not the truth of that resolute maid, + And she vainly hoped much from an artful delay. + + Yet her credulous spirit the talisman pains, + Which she anxiously hides, with intent to destroy; + While she to prepare a rich recompence feigns, + For those, who may find this unfortunate toy. + + Fair Azima suffers from sorrow and rage, + But what can her rage or her sorrow achieve; + Hermossan is absent: her father's weak age + Only leaves her in fruitless affliction to grieve. + + Her bird in sweet sympathy seems to lament, + And to cheer her, in vain, his kind frolics he tries, + When she says, "O my ring!" on her wishes intent, + To seek it far off, from her window he flies. + + In each flight, with new hope, she perceives her heart burn + 'Till that hope she so often has cherished in vain, + That she welcomes with tears his unjoyous return, + And her health wastes away with vexation and pain. + + All her pain was encreased, when this billet she read, + "Thy Hermossan, my love, will be with thee at noon, + When thy faith shall dispell all his amorous dread, + And thy ruby's true radiance eclipse the false moon!" + + In the morn's early season this billet she caught, + In her bosom new hopes and new tenors now spring; + At her window she stood, and in turbulent thought, + "Once more my Anglama (she said) seek my ring!" + + See, in tender obedience, Anglama depart + And soon his swift pinions are out of her sight; + But terror and hope are still felt in her heart, + While her fancy pursues so momentous a flight. + + Was it chance, or some angel, directed his sense, + On a tree of Ayesha's fair garden to perch? + No, with langour opprest, and in heat most intense, + A delicate water allur'd his research. + + At a wonderful depth this cool water reposed, + In a well through a rock, in past centuries sunk; + Ayesha's proud garden this wonder enclos'd, + Whence often the gentle Anglama had drunk. + + A stranger to fear, down the circular cave + For soothing refreshment he often had flown; + Now beside it he perched, and in silence, tho' brave, + For a matron he sees, who draws near to the stone. + + 'Tis Ayesha herself, who induced by a dream, + Came to bury the talisman deep in this well: + Down she cast the lov'd ring: by the morning's bright beam + In the eyes of Anglama it flash'd as it fell. + + Alert as affection, more rapid than speech, + He darts unperceived, the dear treasure to seek; + Ere the stone in it's fall the deep water can reach, + He o'ertakes; he has caught the lost gem in his beak! + + Beware O Anglama! thy foes are abroad, + Thou yet may'st be cross'd in thy faithful intent; + If once thou art spied by the sharp eyes of fraud, + Both her jewel, and thee, thy fair queen must lament. + + As conscious of peril the provident bird + Takes refuge unseen in a cleft of the well; + Deposits his prize, and perceiving he's heard, + Flies back in the shelter of silence to dwell. + + There repose, thou best vassal to beauty endear'd! + While my song to thy mistress most anxiously turns, + To recount in thy absence what perils she fear'd; + Now she freezes in dread, now her terror she spurns. + + By her own noble soul she resolves to subdue + The worst of all fears, that her fancy had crost; + The life of Hermossan in danger she knew, + Supposing she told how his ruby was lost. + + She knew with Ayesha's fierce son he would fight, + Were the story reveal'd of the ring and the glove, + And she firmly exclaim'd, with heroic delight, + "No, his life I will save, if I forfeit his love." + + But O while new dangers Anglama detain, + How eager she pants for a sight of his plume; + At each sound she believes him returning again, + But he's destined to lurk in the cavern's deep gloom. + + The morning elapses, and noon now is near, + But time can't out-travel the lover's quick pace; + See Hermossan most true to his promise appear! + With transport he flies to his fair one's embrace. + + But O how his heart at her aspect recoils + When he sees how the rose has decay'd on her cheek! + "O God! is it thus I'm repaid for my toils," + Was all, that affection had accents to speak. + + Fond Azima trembling, yet brave in her heart, + Now exclaims, "swear to grant me one eager desire, + You must, or I die--nay my love! do not start, + But swear by the sun's incorruptible fire!" + + "Our ruby is gone, and my life too must go, + Unless to relieve me you instantly swear; + Not to meditate vengeance, whatever you know, + On the persons who thus have occasion'd my care" + + Hermossan confused, with quick pity replied, + (Though Jealousy gave him her tremulous tones) + "Yes, I swear, if you say, but to soothe my fond pride, + That no rival of mine my lost talisman owns." + + The maiden, whose soul was the spirit of truth, + Scarcely knew how herself to absolve or condemn; + Since she really surmiz'd a proud amorous youth + Had obtain'd by his mother the magical gem. + + The conflict distended her innocent breast, + Half lifeless she sinks on Hermossan's strong arm; + To his heart he in wonder her innocence prest, + Not free, jealous honor! from thy rash alarm. + + In a soft rising-breeze, yet she hardly has stirr'd, + But her faint eyes unclose to admit the fresh air, + And they now flash with joy in perceiving her bird; + Who drops on her bosom, with "Never Despair." + + + Thrice blessed Anglama! what language can speak + The joy not confined to thy patrons alone, + While thy queen thus receives from thy dutiful beak + The lesson engrav'd on the magical stone? + + All terror, all sickness, all doubt, all distrust, + Fly away from thy friends in this rapturous hour, + And thee they esteem, to thy services just, + A Phenix inshrin'd in Felicity's bower. + + Fair reader! if wishing to fix on thy breast + The magic most sure every grace to endear, + As a gem on thy bosom let innocence rest, + Embellishing beauty, and banishing fear! + + + * * * * * + + + + +THE HORSE. + + +BALLAD THE SIXTEENTH. + + Virtue! thou hast spells divine, + Spells, that savage force controul! + What's the strongest charm of thine? + Courage in a mother's soul. + + Haste my song, the scene proclaim, + That may prove the maxim true! + Fair ones of maternal fame, + Hark! for honour speaks to you. + + Noblest of your noble band, + Brave Marcella chanc'd to rove, + Leading childhood in her hand, + Thro' a deep and lonely grove: + + See her child! how gay! how light! + Twice two years her life has run, + Like a young Aurora bright, + Sporting near the rising sun. + + Thro' a pass of sandy stone, + Where autumnal foliage glow'd, + While the quivering sun-beams shone, + Lay their deep, and narrow road: + + Now, as thro' the dale they pac'd, + Pleas'd with its umbrageous charm, + Lo! a fiery steed, in haste, + Prancing, spreads a quick alarm, + + Fiercest of Arabia's race, + Force and beauty form'd his pride; + Vainly tutor'd for the chace, + Care he scorn'd, and rule defied. + + Soon his rider had been flung, + Tho' like Perseus, he adroit, + Oft to flying coursers clung, + Proud of every bold exploit! + + Now, on foot, he tried in vain, + Or to soften, or subdue + This wild steed, whose leading rein, + Short and tight he firmly drew: + + But the more the horseman strove + To restrain his fiery force, + More he made the solemn grove + Echo to his frantic course. + + Snorting loud, with savage leer, + All controuling powers to foil, + See him plunge! and see him rear! + Mocking all his leader's toil! + + Fearless for himself alone, + He, of courage bravely mild, + Manly fear was frank to own + For the mother, and her child: + + For the beast, in barb'rous ire, + To the child and mother rush'd; + Both he deem'd must now expire, + By the vicious monster crush'd: + + For his rage, with forceful art, + Still he fail'd to turn, or tame: + Fear and pity fill'd his heart, + And convuls'd his manly frame, + + "Fly!" he cried, in accents weak, + As the rampant courser sped; + "Fly!" was all, that he could speak, + Toss'd beneath the monster's head. + + But without her child to fly, + Brave Marcella now disdained: + As her darling's guard to die, + This her only hope remained. + + On the bank, where pine-trees mixt, + Thick to form an arching wood, + At her back her child she fixt, + And before it bravely stood: + + Firm in voice, in soul elate, + Then in solemn tone she cried, + "With her features fixt as fate-- + Tell your father how I died." + + Noble parent! nature saw, + Virtue shining in thy soul, + And with sudden, wond'rous awe + Struck the beast, that spurn'd controul; + + For, as if thy fixed eyes + Darted fascinating flame, + He, to thy devout surprise, + Stood before thee fondly tame: + + He, as touched by powers above, + That can demons dispossess, + View'd thee, with submissive love, + Like a spaniel's meek caress. + + Free from all maternal dread, + Now 'twas thine to raise and chear + Him, from whom the courser fled, + Trembling yet with generous fear! + + Fear soon turned to strong delight, + When he saw the savage tam'd; + And enchanted by the sight, + Quick the horseman thus exclaim'd: + + "God! I thank thee, I behold + Wonders far surpassing thought + More than fiction ever told, + By maternal virtue wrought!" + + "Virtue, in thy praises warm, + I may speak how fair thou art: + I have seen thy fairest form-- + Courage in a mother's heart." + + + + + +THE END. + + + + +INDEX. + + + The Dog + The Eagle + The Elephant + The Stag + The Stork + The Panther + The Grateful Snake + The Fatal Horse + The Lion + The Swan + The Hermit's Dog + The Halcyon + The Serpents + The Goat + The Baya + The Horse + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ballads, by William Hayley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BALLADS *** + +***** This file should be named 9048.txt or 9048.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/0/4/9048/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Robert Prince and Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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