"And with superior rank, superior offers claim. "Your sister's lover, when his sorrows die,
May look upon you, and for favour sigh; "Nor can you offer a reluctant hand;
"His birth is noble, and his seat is grand."
Alarm d was Lucy, was in tears "A fool! "Was she a child in love? -a miss at school? "Doubts any mortal, if a change of state "Dissolves all claims and ties of earlier date?"
The Rector doubted, for he came to mourn
A sister dead, and with a wife return:
Lucy with heart unchanged received the youth,
True in herself, confiding in his truth;
But own'd her mother's change; the haughty dame
Pour'd strong contempt upon the youthful flame;
She firmly vow'd her purpose to pursue,
Judged her own cause, and bade the youth adieu!
The lover begg'd, insisted, urged his pain,
His brother wrote to threaten and complain,
Her sister reasoning proved the promise made,
Lucy appealing to a parent pray'd;
But all opposed the event that she design'd,
And all in vain she never changed her mind;
But coldly answer'd in her wonted way,
That she would rule, and Lucy must obey."
With peevish fear, she saw her health decline, And cried, "Oh! monstrous, for a man to pine "But if your foolish heart must yield to love, "Let him possess it whom I now approve;
"This is my pleasure: ". Still the Rector came
With larger offers and with bolder claim;
But the stern lady would attend no more
She frown'd, and rudely pointed to the door;
Whate'er he wrote, he saw unread return'd,
And he, indignant, the dishonour spurn'd:
Nay, fix'd suspicion where he might confide,
And sacrificed his passion to his pride.
Lucy, meantime, though threaten'd and distress'd;
Against her marriage made a strong protest:
All was domestic war; the Aunt rebell'd
Against the sovereign will, and was expell'd;
And every power was tried, and every art,
To bend to falsehood one determined heart;
Assail'd, in patience it received the shock,
Soft as the wave, unshaken as the rock :
But while th' unconquer'd soul endures the storm
Of angry fate, it preys upon the form ;
With conscious virtue she resisted still,
And conscious love gave vigour to her will:
But Lucy's trial was at hand; with joy
"Behold your constant boy —
Thursday was married:-take the paper, sweet,
"And read the conduct of your reverend cheat;
"See with what pomp of coaches, in what crowd
"The creature married — of his falsehood proud!
"False, did I say? at least no whining fool;
"And thus will hopeless passions ever cool:
"But shall his bride your single state reproach?
"No! give him crowd for crowd, and coach for
"Oh! you retire; reflect then, gentle miss, "And gain some spirit in a cause like this.”
Some spirit Lucy gain'd; a steady soul, Defying all persuasion, all control:
In vain reproach, derision, threats were tried;
The constant mind all outward force defied,
By vengeance vainly urged, in vain assail'd by pride;
Fix'd in her purpose, perfect in her part,
She felt the courage of a wounded heart;
The world receded from her rising view,
When heaven approach'd as earthly things withdrew;
Not strange before, for in the days of love,
Joy, hope, and pleasure, she had thoughts above,
Pious when most of worldly prospects fond,
When they best pleased her she could look beyond.
Had the young priest a faithful lover died,
Something had been her bosom to divide ;
Now heaven had all, for in her holiest views
She saw the matron whom she fear'd to lose;
While from her parent, the dejected maid
Forced the unpleasant thought, or thinking pray'd.
Surprised, the Mother saw the languid frame, And felt indignant, yet forbore to blame : Once with a frown she cried, " And do you mean "To die of love-the folly of fifteen ?
But as her anger met with no reply,
She let the gentle girl in quiet die;
And to her sister wrote, impell'd by pain,
"Come quickly, Martha, or you come in vain."
Lucy meantime profess'd with joy sincere,
That nothing held, employ'd, engaged her here.
"I am an humble actor, doom'd to play "A part obscure, and then to glide away: "Incurious how the great or happy shine, "Or who have parts obscure and sad as mine; "In its best prospect I but wish'd, for life, "To be th' assiduous, gentle, useful wife; "That lost, with wearied mind, and spirit poor, "I drop my efforts, and can act no more; "With growing joy I feel my spirits tend "To that last scene where all my duties end."
Hope, ease, delight, the thoughts of dying gave, Till Lucy spoke with fondness of the grave; She smiled with wasted form, but spirit firm, And said," She left but little for the worm:" As toll'd the bell, "There's one," she said, "hath press'd
"Awhile before me to the bed of rest:" (1) And she beside her with attention spread The decorations of the maiden dead.
While quickly thus the mortal part declin'd, The happiest visions fill'd the active mind;
(1) [These were the very words of Mr. Crabbe's own mother during her last illness. It happening that a friend and neighbour was slowly yielding at the same time to the same hopeless disorder as herself, she every morning used to desire her daughter to see if this sufferer's window was opened; saying cheerfully, "She must make haste, or I shall be at rest before her."- See antè, Vol. I. p. 104.]
A soft, religious melancholy gain'd
Entire possession, and for ever reign'd:
On Holy Writ her mind reposing dwelt,
She saw the wonders, she the mercies felt;
Till in a blest and glorious reverie,
She seem'd the Saviour as on earth to see,
And, fill'd with love divine, th' attending friend
Or she who trembling, yet confiding, stole
Near to the garment, touch'd it, and was whole;
When, such th' intenseness of the working thought,
On her it seem'd the very deed was wrought;
She the glad patient's fear and rapture found,
The holy transport, and the healing wound;
This was so fix'd, so grafted in the heart,
That she adopted, nay became the part:
But one chief scene was present to her sight,
Her Saviour resting in the tomb by night;
Her fever rose, and still her wedded mind
Was to that scene, that hallow'd cave, confin'd
Where in the shade of death the body laid,
There watch'd the spirit of the wandering maid;
Her looks were fix'd, entranced, illumed, serene,
In the still glory of the midnight scene:
There at her Saviour's feet, in visions blest,
Th' enraptured maid a sacred joy possess'd;
In patience waiting for the first-born ray
Of that all-glorious and triumphant day :
To this idea all her soul she gave,
Her mind reposing by the sacred grave;
Then sleep would seal the eye, the vision close,
And steep the solemn thoughts in brief repose.
|