But see! thy abject slave :—a lurking fear,
Spreads o'er his face a dark prevailing shade;
Wakeful, though scowled his gaze:—that icy sneer,
Before whose chill a baby smile would fade,―
Is th' intense pride of treasure unbetrayed:
Few are his words-in them the wily tone
Conveys reserveful dread ;-as if it bade
The miser fear himself:-his wealth once known,
'Twould seem departed, though it still remained his
A miser's heart is like the damp cold tomb,
Embalming but the noisome ;-dark abode
Of blighted feeling and of selfish gloom :—
And yet 'tis not repose; a burdening load
Of teasing dreams, at home, and on the road,
From risen morn till eve-prevent his rest:
One haunting thought, the self-inflicted goad-
Is ever at his soul. With heavy breast
And pulsing terror, is his canvass pillow pressed!
This beauteous world, and its enchanting scene,
The silken clouds of morn, and moony night,
The tinted fruits, and meadow's matchless green,-
Its flowers and streams-for him yield no delight!—
The sunbeams warm his brow, and bless his sight,
The breezes kiss his lips-but he's the same:As if his mind was darkened o'er with blight, And Nature quite unfelt-a gloomy frame Where all, but avarice, is motionless and tame.
And has he bliss ?-'tis buried in the ground!
No kindly ease is bought above: vile, mean,
Blank to the eye, and deaf to sorrow's sound,
With unpartaking modes and bilious spleen,
He crawls his way-unsought and seldom seen:-
Strange homage this, that Fancy gets
For her delusions! E'er since time hath been,
Hearts weave their own deceits:-the miser frets,
But bears the willing thraldom while his soul re-
grets!
With lowering front, and dim withdrawing eye,
Suspiciously he creeps:-his morbid glance
Turned round on heaven and earth most fretfully ;-
Disturbing fears, as near his steps advance
To see the buried gold-and hopeful trance,-
Attend him with their phantoms.-Each limb shakes,
And tremulous, the chills of dubious chance
Thrill through his person :-till again he takes
Another glutting stare,-oh! how his bosom aches!
The spot is gained :-beneath a tree decayed
His treasure's hid. Upon its topmost bough
A raven sits-foreboding hope betrayed.
Here, on the ground, the miser kneeling now,
Digs up the turf:-but list! the shrieking vow
And arms infuriate raised-the torture's trace-
Proclaim the heap is gone!-no tears can flow,
But inward anguish maddens in grimace,
While Death, with mocking purse, grins in his mar-
tyr's face.
THE sun, in splendour, was setting bright,
And the west was sheeted in ruby light,
The hymn of the woodland choir was singing,
And the winds o'er the forest their incense flinging,
The grove its leaves of gold was waving,
The mountain its summit in glory bathing,
The flowers for day's departure weeping,
And the wolf in his cave yet soundly sleeping,
When young Cytheron, e'en as Hylas fair,
With cheek of the damask rose, and hair
In darkly beauteous ringlets flowing,
And lip like the piony richly glowing,
With a smile like summer's morn, and eye
That no maiden could look on without a sigh,
Met Comus, as on he journeyed, gay
And thoughtless, life's primrose-scattered way.
Comus invited the youth to spend the night
At his magic palace of pomp and delight,
To rest himself after the toils of the day,
And chase the tardy-footed hours away
With banquet and song, and care-killing glee,
Music, and wine, and jollity.
Young Cytheron, regardless of what might betide, Turned joyous to follow his laughing guide,
Who led him on through a solemn wood,
Where tall colonnades of cedar stood,
And verdant palms in long array,
That shone with the tints of departing day;
While the dew-brightened flowers caught the sun's last smile,
And rivalled the pomp of the evening sky, Where a pageant of mountain, lake, and isle, In glory unearthly met the eye!
Amid the forest, sweetly embowered,
Where seats of green moss, with roses showered, And each fragrant hyacinthine bed
Was o'er-canopied with the rich web
Of tissued blossoms, in nature's loom
Wove gorgeous, and bright with radiant bloom.
The gleams of an alabastrian pile,
With pillared form of classic style,
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