LOVE'S VICTIMS: THE HERMIT's STORY, CANTO II

When youth beats high in ev'ry vein, And passion fires the mind, What can the wand'ring thought restrain, The lawless spirit bind?

Too strong by reason to be sway'd, Desire my torment grew, For fair as Dian was the maid, But chaste as Dian too.

How shall your virtuous ears endure, My guilty tongue repeat, What arts I us'd, her love to lure, And watchful honor cheat!

Too well I strove; the maiden lov'd; Her devious steps I led; To duty lost, we secret rov'd, And banish'd virtue fled.

Ill-omen'd deed! the hope how vain, Each social tie foregone, That constancy should yet remain, And faith, intent on one!

Who first pollutes the tender mind, And leads from truth astray, Ne'er let him hope again to find The gem he casts away.

The fatal change, thus subtly wrought, I justly learnt to rue; Pleas'd with the freedom I had taught, To other loves she flew:

Five lonely months my anxious fears Her flight in vain explor'd; And oft my fondly-falling tears Her fancied death deplor'd.

Oh, Vanity, that Man beguiles, Who boasts the stronger mind! In Woman's charms and native wiles, Defeat still doom'd to find!

If haply here some list'ning guest Have known like pains to prove, Let his consenting heart attest How stoops our sex to Love.

Before my gate, in winter's cold, A trembling mourner stood; A tale of piteous want she told, And, plaintive, begg'd for food:

Beneath that garb of friendless woe My Emma stood confest; I clasp'd, ere words had pow'r to flow, The wand'rer to my breast:

I strove to chide, but faintly blam'd; Then met her ardent kiss; Desire again my soul inflam'd, And hope renew'd my bliss.

Fond, pleasing dream! too quickly o'er! The false one fled again: Amaz'd I griev'd, but vow'd no more To prize a heart so vain.

Our angry vows Love turns to jest; While yet her loss I mourn'd, Again repentance touch'd her breast, Again the fair return'd:

And, while I view'd those fatal charms, Upon my neck she hung; To earth I shook her from my arms, Around my knees she clung.

"Forgive the wretch," she suppliant cried, "The wretch thy flatt'ries made! "By Pleasure's voice, Ah, faithless guide! "Too easily betray'd!"

"With thee, who taught'st me first to sin, "Let me my sins atone! "This let repentant anguish win, "To live with thee alone!"

Thus o'er a bosom fondly soft She triumph'd unrestrain'd; Oft from my arms she fled, and oft Those shelt'ring arms regain'd.

So flitting on the summer's breeze, Delighted far to roam, The swallow, born o'er smiling seas, Awhile forgets her home:

But scar'd at sight of wintry gloom, When chilling blasts arise, With trembling wing and ruffled plume, Returns to friendlier skies.

At length the destin'd hour was near, That rose to fix our fate; For still on folly's wild career Chastising sorrows wait.

Once when, by lengthen'd absence tried, Love pour'd the weary tear, And hope her wonted aid denied My fruitless search to cheer,

It chanc'd, at morn I bent my way From Harfleur's lonely tow'rs, To where its tides in Havre's bay The western ocean pours.

There as I wander'd, lost in thought, Faint notes of female cry My ear with frequent wonder caught, And drew my curious eye.

Far off, advancing where I stood, A convict group I spied; Behind, the fiends of pow'r pursued, Each ling'ring step to chide:

By force compell'd, the guilty band Reluctant sought the shore, Whence doom'd to leave a forfeit land, And to return no more.

Pitying, I mark'd their hopeless lot, And heard their clanking chains; Their errors in their griefs forgot, Their vices in their pains;

Nor thought, while flow'd the ready tear For sorrows not my own, My doom to share those griefs how near, And mingle groan with groan!

As when dire phantoms of the night Sleep's soft infoldment break, Up leaps the wretch in wild affright, And doubts if yet he wake;

So rous'd, at once, with startling dread, Amid the guilty train I saw my Emma captive led, And partner of their pain.

The distant sight perhaps deceiv'd, With eager step I flew— Too soon I came—nor yet believ'd The horrid vision true.

To heav'n her eyes intent were cast, And pour'd a chrystal flood; The flinty pavement, as she pass'd, Was mark'd with streaks of blood.

I stood distracted and appall'd; Then faintly breath'd her name; Each wand'ring sense my voice recall'd, And shook her feeble frame:

Her feeble frame no more sustains; Her eyes flash wildly round; She shrieks—and, sinking on her chains, Falls senseless to the ground.