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Fear God, all-wise, omnipotent,
Life cannot comprehend thee, though thou showest In him we live and have our being;
Thyself by all the functions of our life -He hath all love, all blessing seat
'Tis death — death only, which is the great' teacher! Creator - Father - All-decreeing !
Awful instructor! he doth enter in Fear him, and love, and praise, and trust:
The golden rooms of state, and all perforce Yet have of man no slavish fear;
Teach there its proud, reluctant occupant; Remember kings, like thee, are dust,
He doth inform in miserable dens And at one judgment must appear.
The locked-up soul of sordid ignorance But virtue, and its holy fruits,
With his sublimest knowledge! he hath stolen The poet's soul, the sage's sense,
Gently, not unawares, into the chamber These are exalted attributes;
of the Poor Scholar, like a sober friend And these demand thy reverence.
Who doth give time for ample preparation! But, boy, remember this, e'en then
He hath dealt kindly with me, giving first Revere the gifts, but not the men!
Yearnings for unimaginable good, Ohey thy parents; they are given
Which the world's pleasure could not satisfy ; To guide our inexperienced youth;
And lofty aspiration, that lured on Types are they of the One in heaven,
The ardent soul as the sun lures the eagle ; Chasusing but in love and truth!
Next came a drooping of the outward frame, Keep thyself pure — sin doth eflace
Paleness and feebleness, and wasted limbs, The beauty of our spiritual life:
Which said, “ prepare! thy days are numbered !" Do good to all men -- live in peace
And thus for months had this poor frame declined, And charity, abhorring strite!
Wasting and wasting; yet the spirit intense The mental power which God has given,
Growing more clear, more hourly confident, As I have taught thee, cultivate ;
As if its disenthralment had begun! Thou canst not be 100 wise for heaven,
Oh, I should long to die! If thou dost humbly consecrate
To be among the stars, the glorious stars; Thy soul to God! and ever take
To have no bounds to knowledge; to drink deep In his good book delight; there lies
Of living fountains - to behold the wise, The highest knowledge, which will make
The good, the glorified! to be with God, Thy soul unto salvation wise!
And Christ, who passed through death that I might · My little boy, thou canst not know
live! How strives my spirit fervently,
Oh I should long for death, but for one tie, How my heart's fountains overflow
One lingering tie that binds me to the earth! With yearning lenderness for thee!
My mother! dearest, kindest, best of mothers! God keep and strengthen thee from sin!
What do I owe her not? all that is great, God crown thy life with peace and joy,
All that is pure -- all that I have enjoyed And give at last to enter in
Of outward pleasure, or of spiritual lise,
I have derived from her! has she not laboured
Early and late for me? first through the years
Of sickly infancy - then by her toil I go to higher joy – oh, follow me!
Maintained the ambitious scholar - overpaid
By what men said of him! Oh thou untired,
True heart of love, for thee I hoped to live;
To fill my father's place, and make thine age
meditation, then rising and putting away Alas! it may not be! thou hast to weep –
Which bows jt to the dust, when some unlooked-for, Schol. Now, now I need them not, I've done with Some irremediable woe befals! them.
- Surely ere long thou wilt be at my side, I need not blind philosophy, nor dreams
For I did summon thee, and thy strong love Of speculating men, entangling truth
Brooks not delay! Alas, thou knowest not In cobweb sophistry, away with them
It was to die within thy holy arms One word read by that child is worth them all! That I have asked thy presence! Oh! come, come, – The business of my life is finished now
Thou most beloved being, bless thy son, With this day's work. I have dismissed the class And take one comfort in his peaceful death! For the last time - I am alone with death!
(A slight knocking is heard at the door, Tomorrow morn, they will inquire for me,
and the Philosopher enters. And learn that I have solved the last, great problem. Philos. Well, my young friend, I've looked in to This pale, attenuate frame they may behold.
inquire But that which loves, and hopes, and speculates, After your health. I saw your class depart, They will perceive no more. Mysterious being! And would have conference with you once again.
Schol. To-night I must decline your friendship, sir. Just tottering on eternity! Delusion, I am so weak I cannot talk with you
'Tis all delusion! while my soul abhorred, On controversial points ever again.
My heart was wounded at the traitorous act! Besides, my faith brings such a holy joy,
Philos. Come, come, my friend, this is mere deSuch large reward of peace, why would you shake it?
clamation; Or is it now a time for doubts and fears,
You have misunderstood both them and me!
See my state -Philos.
A few short hours, and I must be with God;
And yet you ask me to evolve that long To bring death near to the imagination,
Entanglement of subtlest sophistry! Even as a telescope doth show the moon
This is no friendly part: but I conjure you,
Give not your soul to vain philosophy :
Needs other, mightier wisdom than it yields.
Oh, though I am but young, and you are old, Have you perused the books I left with you? Grant me the privilege of a dying man, Schol. I have, and like them not!
To counsel you in love!
I see that you are spent. I have too long And burning eloquence? For a strong soul, Trespassed upon your time. But is there nought Baptized in the immortal wells of thought,
That I can serve you in? Aspire you not They must be glorious food!
To win esteem by study? I will speak
Pardon me, sir, Unto the primest scholars throughout Europe
Will heap upon you honours at my asking.
Schol. There was a time these things had been a They will mislead, and baffle and confound: Besides, among the sages whom you boast of,
But the near prospect of eternity With their proud heathen virtues, can ye find
Takes from the gauds of earth their tempting'st lure; A purer, loftier, nobler character;
No, no - it was a poor unmeet ambition More innocent, and yet more filled with wisdom,
Which then was hot within me, and, thank God, Fuller of high devotion - more heroic
Aflecteth me no more! Than the Lord Jesus - dignified yet humble ;
Nay, but my friend,
For your dear mother's suke would you not leave morals? Schol. And where is the Utopian code of morals
Schol. Can such poor, empty honours compensate
Unto a childless mother for her son?
You know her not, and me you know not either! As would they should do unto yourselves."
Philos. But think you, my young friend, learning ye And where, among the fables of their poets,
is honoured Which you pretend veil the divinest truths,
By every honour paid to its disciples : Find you the penitent prodigal coming back
Your tomb would be a shrine, to learning sacred. Unto his father's bosom ; thus to show
Schol. There is more comfort, sir, unto my soul God's love, and our relationship to him?
To feel the smallest duty not neglected, Where do they teach us in our many needs
And my day's work fulfilled, than if I knew To list up our bowed, broken hearts to God,
This perishable dust would be interred And call him “ Father?"- Leave me as I am!
In kingly marble, and my oame set forth I am not ignorant, though my learning lie
In pompous blazonry. In this small book-nor do I ask for more!
Not to be great Philos. But have you read the parchments?
You do mistake my drilt -- but greatly useful; Schol.
All of them. Surely you call not this unmeet ambition! Philos. And what impression might they make
Schol. Sir, had the will of God ordained a wider, upon you?
A nobler sphere of usefulness on earth, For knowing as I do your graceful mind,
lle would have given me strength, and health, and And your profound research beyond your years,
power I am solicitous of your approval.
For its accomplishment. I murmur not Schol. I cannot praise - I cannot say one word That little has been done, but rather bless Him In commendation of your misspent labours.
Who has permitted me to do that little; Oh, surely it was not a friendly part
And die content in his sufficient mercy, To hold these gorgeous baits before a soul
Which has vouchsafed reward beyond my merit.
Philos. Nay, I must serve you! Let me but con. Full of redeeming knowledge, making wise
Unto salvation, and the holy spring
For which the soul of man is often sold;
And may'st thou bless the widow !-lie thou thereMight gratify the sense - and you might fall I shall not need you more. I am departing Gracefully into death, in downy ease?
To the fruition of the hope of one,
And where the other cannot get admittance!
And now a few words will explain the rest:-
[He writes a few words, which he encloses These naked walls are like familiar faces,
with them, and making all into a packel, And that poor pallet has so oft given rest
seals them up. To my o'erwearied limbs, there will I die! Philos. But you do need physicians — here is gold, which will bleed fresh when she shall break this seal.
God comfort her poor heart, and heal its wounds, I know the scholar's fee is scant enough!
[Shortly after this is done, he becomes sudI will go hence, and send you an attendant. Schol. I cannot take your gold, I want it not.
denly paler - a convulsive spasm passes My sickness is beyond the aid of man;
over him; when he recovers, he slowly And soon, even now, I did expect my mother.
rises, and kneels upon his pallet-bed. Philos. (affecting sorrow.) My dear young friend, I Schol. Almighty God! look down have to ask your pardon ;
Upon thy feeble servant! strengthen him! The letter that I promised to deliver,
Give him the victor's crown, I did forget - indeed I gave it not!
And let not faith be dim!
Oh, how unworthy of thy grace,
How can I enter in
Oh my mother - Thy kingdom, and behold thy face!
(He covers his face for a moment, then Without sustaining knowledge to the grave!
For this I bless thee, oh thou Gracious One,
I bless thee for the life which thou hast crowned But something in my spirit, from the first,
With never-ending good; Told me that you were evil ; and my thought For pleasures that were found Has often inly uttered the rebuke,
Like wayside flowers in quiet solitude. * Get thee behind me, Satan!" Leave me now - I bless thee for the love that watch'd o'er me Leave me my lonely chamber to myself,
Through the weak years of infancy, And let me die in peace!
That has been, like thine everlasting truth. [The Philosopher goes out, abashed. The guide, the guardian-angel of my youth.
The scholar falls back into his chair, Oh, Thou that didst the mother's heart bestow, exhausted ; after some time recover. Sustain it in its woe,
ing, he faintly raises himself. For mourning give it joy, and praise for heaviness! Tis night-fall now - and through the uncurtained
[He falls speechless upon the bed. window
His mother enters hurriedly. I see the stars; there is no moon to-night.
Mother. Alas, my son ! and am I come too late? Here then I light my lamp for the last time ; Oh, Christ! can he be dead? And ere that feeble flame has spent itself,
Schol. [looking up faintly.) Mother, is 't thou ? A soul will have departed!
It is! who summoned thee, dear mother?
Mother. A little boy, the latest of thy class ; Close my account with life; and 6 affection, He left these walls at sunset, and came back And never-cancelled duty, give their rights : With me e'en now. He told me of thy words,
(He opens his Bible and inscribes it. And of thy pallid cheek and trembling hand ;This I return to thee, my dearest mother,
Sorrowing for all, but sorrowing most because Thy gift at first, and now my last bequest ;
Thou saidst he would behold thy face no more !
The hand of death is on me! Ere the sun
THOMAS OF TORRES.
ACHZIB, A STRANGER.
ISABEL, A WIDOW,
I see as 't were heaven opened, and a troop talents, and friends, yet has the moments when the Of beautiful spirits waiting my release!
soul, reacting upon itself, prays to be disenthralled. Mother. My son! my son! and thou so young, so None are retrieveless ; none are utterly alien to good, wise,
save the victim of avarice ; for when did the soul, So well-beloved, alas, must thou depart!
abandoned to this vice, feel misgivings? when did it Oh, rest thy precious head within mine arms, feel either pity or love? or when did it do one good My only one!— Thou wast a son indeed!
thing, or repent of one evil thing? It will strip Schol. Mother, farewell! I hear the heavenly without remorse, the fatherless, the widow, nay even voices,
the very sanctuary of God! Avarice is the Upas of They call! — I cannot stay: farewell — farewell! the soul — no green thing flourishes below it, no bird
of heaven flies over it; and the dew and the rain, and Choir of Spiritual Voices.
the virtues of the earth, become pestilential because No more sighing,
of it! It shall be the love of gold which shall be No more dying,
my next temptation.” Come with us, thou pure and bright!
Time is done,
Joy is won,
THOMAS OF TORRES.
THE SECOND LORD OF TORRES.
AND OTHER SUBORDINATE CHARACTERS.
Time occupied, one-and-twenty years.
Come to the eternal truth!
A green hill overlooking a broad valley, in the centre
of which, among a few old trees, stands a noble mansion of grey stone ; a fine lake appears in the
winding of the valley, and the hill-sides are scattered Achzib was surprised at the ill success of his
with a few worthless old trees, the remnants of woods attempt upon the Poor Scholar. He was humiliated
which have been felled. — Thomas of Torres comes to feel how powerfully he had been rebuked by one
forward, and throws himself on the grass. com paratively a youth-one who was poor, and who
Thomas. That was my home — the noble hall of had so little knowledge of men. It was before the
Torres ! authority of virtue he had shrunk, but he had never Mine were those meadows - yon bright lake was believed till that moment, that virtue possessed such
mine, authority; and almost confounded, he walked forth Where when a boy I fished, and swam, and hurled from the door of the Poor Scholar into the fields that Smooth pebbles o'er its surface; those green hills surrounded the city.
Were mine, and mine the woods that clothed themAchzib had done unwisely in making too direct an This was my patrimony! a fair spot, attack. The integrity of principle may be under- Than which this green and pleasant face of earth mined, but is seldom taken by storm.
Can show none fairer! With this did descend When Achzib had duly pondered upon the cause of his failure, his desire was only redoubled to make an honourable name — the lord of Torres! a fresh attempt. "I will neither choose a dying man, without a blot on its escutcheon,
An unimpeachable and noble name, a scholar, nor one of inflexible virtue,” said he, “and Till it descended to a fool like me — yet my triumph shall be signal and complete," He A spendthrift fool, who is become a proverb ! thought over the baits for human souls -loveambition — pleasure; but all these he rejected. - My father was a good and quiet man “For,” said he, “is not avarice more absorbingly, He wedded late in life; and I was born more hopelessly cruel than all these? The lover may The child of his old age; my mother's face be fierce, ungovernable, extravagant; still is the I knew not, saving in its gilded frame, passion in itself amiable. The man of ambition may where, in the chamber of her loving husband, wade through blood to a kingdom; yet even in his It hung before his bed. My father died career, give evidence of good and great qualities. The When I was in my nonage. Marvellous pains, votary of pleasure, though he sacrifice health, wealth, Reading of books, study, and exercise,
Made me, they said, a perfect gentleman;
This was a jeweller, and must be paid ; Şuch was the lord of Torres three years since ! This was a tailor- this had sold perfumes, He rode, he ran, he hunted, and he hawked, This silks, and this confectionery and wineAnd all exclaimed, “ a gallant gentleman!" They must—they must be paid they would be paid! He had his gay companions — what of that? They said that youth must have its revelries.
“The lord of Torres is a ruined man!" He laughed, he sung, he danced, he drank his wine, So said the cunning lawyer;- and they sold And all declared, “ a pleasant gentleman!"
Horses and hounds and hawks, and then they said They came to him in need — his many friends
The house itself must go! The silent lord Money he had in plenty, it was theirs !
Rose up an angry man: "Fetch me my horse !" He paid their debts; he gave them noble gifts ; Said he ; for now a thought had crossed his mind He seasted them; he said, " they are my friends,
Wherein lay hope. — Alus! he had no horseAnd what I have is their's!" and they exclaimed,
The lord of Torres walked a-foot that day! . Oh, what a noble, generous gentleman!"
“I'll seek my friends!" said he, “my right good He had his friends too, of another sort
friends ; Fair women that seduced him with their eyes,
They'll help me in my need, each one of them." For these he had his fetes ; his pleasant shows ;
He sought their doors this saw him through the His banquetings in forest solitudes,
blind, Beneath the green boughs, like the sylvan gods :
And bade his valet say, he was abroad : And these repaid him with sweet flatteries, This spoke him pleasantly, and gave him wine, And with bewitching smiles and honeyed words And pledged him in the cup, his excellent friend!
But when he told the purport of his visit, The lord of Torres did outgo his rents ;
He shook his head, and said he had no gold, His many friends had ta'en his ready cash;
Even while he paid a thousand pieces down “What then!" said they, “ thy lands are broad and For a vain bauble! From another's lips rich,
He heard the mocking words of “spendthrift,". Get money on them !” Ah, poor thoughtless fool,
** beggar." He listened to their counsels !- Feasts and gisis,
The lord of Torres turned upon his heel, And needy friends, again have made him bare !
And muttered curses while his heart was sad. "Cut down thy woods !" said they. He cut them “There's yet another friend," said he, “ beloved down ;
Beyond them all ; for while I held them churls, And iben his wants lay open to the day,
This was the chosen brother of my heart!" And people said this thriftless lord is poor!"
The lord of Torres stood beside his gate; This touched his pride, and he grew yet more lavish. There was a show as for a festival. "Come to my heart,” said he," my faithful friends; "I come in a good hour!" said he to one We'll drink and laugh, to show we yet can spend !” Who stood hard by—“what means this merry show?" _ * The woods are felled; the money is all spent;
" How! know you not," said he, “ this very morn What now remains ? — The land's as good as gone,
The noble Count haih wedded the fair daughter The usurer doth take its yearly rent!"
Of Baron Vorm!" The young lord's cheek is white, So spake the lord again unto his friends :
His brain doth reel — he holds against the gate, * Sell house and all!" exclaimed the revellers.
And hides his face that none may see his tears! The young lord went to his uneasy bed
He back returned unto his fathers' house, A melancholy man. The portraits old
And entering in his chamber, barred the door, Looked from their gilded frames as if they spoke
And passed a night of sleepless agony ! Silent upbraidings — all seemed stern but one, The lord of Torres was an altered man: That youthful mother, whose kind eye and smile A woe had shadowed o'er his countenance; Appeared to say, Return, my son, return!
His speech was low, and tremulous, and sad
He bore a wounded heart within his breast. The lord of Torres is a thoughtful man:
Then came his aged steward with streaming eyes, His days are full of care, his nights of fear;
And gave to him a little bag of gold; He beedeih not which way his feather sils;
"Take it," he said, “I won it in thy service, He wears the velvet jerkin for the silk;
And in the service of thy noble father!" He hath forgot the roses in his shoes ;
The lord of Torres took the old man's hand, He drinks the red wine and forgets the pledge;
And wept as weeps a child ; his heart was touched. He hears the jest, and yet he laugheth not:
“Take back thy gold," said he; “I wasted mine, Then said his friends “ Our lord hath lost his wits,
Yet will I not expend thy honest gains :Let's leave him ample space to look for them !"
Friend, take it back — I will not touch thy gold !"
And now he is a landless, homeless man,-
Thomas of Torres, get thee from this place,