I sprung from the table in despair, rushed out of the house, and ran home in an agony of confusion and disgrace, which the most poignant sense of guilt could only have excited. Repton.
ALAS! I am an orphan boy,
With nought on earth to cheer my heart;
No father's love, no mother's joy,
Nor kin nor kind to take my part
My lodging is the cold, cold ground;
I eat the bread of charity;
And, when the kiss of love goes round-
There is no kiss, alas! for me.
Yet once I had a father dear,
A mother, too, I wont to prize,
With ready hand to wipe the tear,
If chanced a childish tear to rise:
But cause of tears was rarely found;
For all my heart was youthful glee ;
And, when the kiss of love went round.
How sweet a kiss there was for me.
But, ah! there came a war, they say.
What is a war? I cannot tell.
But drums and fifes did sweetly play,
And loudly rang our village bell.
In truth it was a pretty sound,
I thought; nor could I thence foresee
That when the kiss of love went round,
There soon would be no kiss for me.
A scarlet coat my father took;
And sword, as bright as bright could be:
And feathers that so gaily look,
All in a shining cap had he.
Then how my little heart did bound
Alas! I thought it fine to see,
Nor dreamt that, when the kiss went round,
There soon would be no kiss for me.
My mother sigh'd, my mother wept-
My father talked of wealth and fame ;
But still she wept, and sigh'd and wept,
Till I to see her did the same.
But soon the horsemen throng around,
My father mounts with shout and glee;
Then gave a kiss to all around—
And, ah! how sweet a kiss to me.
But when I found he rode so far,
And came not back as heretofore,
I said it was a naughty war,
And loved the fife and drum no more.
My mother oft in tears was drown'd.
Nor merry tale nor song had she:
And when the hour of night came round
Sad was the kiss she gave to me.
At length the bell again did ring-
There was a victory, they said:
'Twas what my father said he'd bring.
But, ah! it brought my father-dead!
My mother shriek'd-her heart was woe;
She clasped me trembling to her knee:
And oh, that you may never know
How wild a kiss she gave to me!
But once again-but once again
These lips a mother's kisses felt;
That once again-that once again
The tale a heart of stone would melt
'Twas when upon her death-bed laid;
(Oh, what a sight was that to see!)
"My child, my child," she feebly said,
And gave a parting kiss to me.
So now I am an orphan boy,
With nought below my heart to cheer;
No mother's love-no father's joy,
Nor kin nor kind to wipe the tear.
My lodging is the cold, cold ground,
I eat the bread of charity;
And when the kiss of love goes round,
There is no kiss of love for me.
SATAN'S SOLILOQUY IN SIGHT OF PARADISE.
O THOU, that with surpassing glory crown'd,
Look'st from thy sole dominion like the God
Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars
Hide their diminished heads; to thee I call,
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,
O Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams,
That bring to my remembrance from what state
I fell-how glorious once above thy sphere-
Till pride and worse ambition threw me down,
Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King.
Ah, wherefore? He deserved no such return
From me, whom he created what I was
In that bright eminence, and with his good
Upbraided none; nor was his service hard.
What could be less than to afford him praise,
The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks,
How due? Yet all his good proved ill to me,
And wrought but malice. Lifted up so high,
I 'sdained subjection, and thought one step higher
Would set me highest, and in a moment quit
The debt immense of endless gratitude,
So burthensome still paying, still to owe;
Forgetful what from him I still received,
And understood not that a grateful mind
By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
Indebted and discharged. What burden then?
O, had his powerful destiny ordain'd
Me some inferior angel, I had stood
Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised
Ambition! Yet why not? Some other power
As great might have aspired, and me, though mean,
Drawn to his part. But other powers as great
Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within
Or from without, to all temptations arm'd.
Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand?
Thou hadst. Whom hast thou then or what to accuse
But heaven's free love dealt equally to all?
Be then his love accursed, since love or hate,
To me alike, it deals eternal woe.
Nay, cursed be thou; since against his thy will
Chose freely what it now so justly rues.
Me miserable! which way shall I fly,
Infinite wrath and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is hell—myself am hell ;
And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep,
Still threatening to devour me, opens wide,
To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
O, then, at last relent. Is there no place
Left for repentance, none for pardon left?
None left but by submission; and that word
Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame
Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduced
With other promises and other vaunts
Than to submit, boasting I could subdue
The Omnipotent. Ah me! they little know
How dearly I abide that boast so vain,
Under what torments inwardly I groan,
While they adore me on the throne of hell.
With diadem and sceptre high advanced,
The lower still I fall, only supreme
In misery. Such joy ambition finds.
But say
I could repent, and could obtain,
By act of grace, my former state, how soon
Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore? Ease would recant Vows made in pain as violent and void.
For never can true reconcilement grow
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep;
Which would but lead to a worse relapse
And heavier fall. So should I purchase dear
Short intermission bought with double smart.
This knows my Punisher; therefore, as far
From granting he as I from begging peace.
All hope excluded thus, behold, instead
Of us outcast, exiled, his new delight,
Mankind, created, and for him this world.
So farewell hope; and, with hope, farewell fear;
Farewell remorse! all good to me is lost.
Evil be thou my good. By thee at least
Divided empire with Heaven's King I hold :
By thee, and more than half, perhaps, will reign;
As man ere long, and this new world, shall know.
IN the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and-well
The date I've forgotten, but if you've at hand
A Post-office Directory, doubtless 'twill tell-
Mr. Ferdinand Pigswiddy lived in the Strand.
Mr. Ferdinand Pigswiddy traded in coals,
And also in charcoal, and likewise in coke;
He was fond of Don Juan, pork chops, and hot rolls,
And he thought he could sing, when he only could croak.
Mr. Ferdinand Pigswiddy went out one night
To a party-or, more strictly speaking, a ball;
And there he became rather more than polite
To a charming young lady, whose vestments were white,
And who seemed to his eyes the most lovely of all
The beautiful creatures who thronged on his sight.
A good deal of whispering, squeezing of fingers,
And such like, between this young couple took place;
And when Father Time, who 'tis known, never lingers,
Not even for lovers, declared, with grave face,
That the moment was come when they ought to be moving,
Poor Ferdinand felt,
At the fast flitting form of enchantment and grace,
That he'd taken a lesson in what is called loving.
When Ferdinand Pigswiddy got up next day,
He felt an unearthly strange pain at his chest :
His breakfast was banished untasted away,
Though his appetite mostly was one of the best.
Some low words he said
In dislike of his bread,
And he likewise did utter
Strange things 'bout the butter.
His singular pain caused him likewise to sigh;
And ere the sun said to the world it was noon,
He detected himself, with a tear in his eye,
Composing some very soft lines to the moon.
They were all about "radiant glory" and that,
And how the bright stars should be wondered at ;
How the heavenly bodies were never at fault,
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