While birth and grandeur met neglect.
Soon, sway’d by duty more than wealth,
He listen’d and he look’d by stealth;
And I grew careless in my lays;
Languish’d for that exclusive praise.
Yet, conscious of an equal claim,
Above each base or sordid aim,
From wounded feeling and from pride,
My pain I coldly strove to hide:
And when, encounter’d by surprize,
Rapture rose flashing in his eyes,
My formal speech and careless air
Would call a sudden anger there.
“Reserv’d
and sullen we became,
Tenacious both, and both to
blame.
Yet often an upbraiding look
Controul’d the sentence
as I spoke;
Prompt and direct its flight
arose,
But sunk or waver’d
at the close.
Often, beneath his softening
eye,
I felt my resolution die;
And, half-relentingly, forgot
His splendid and my humble
lot.
“Sometimes
a sudden fancy came,
That he who bore my father’s
name,
Broken in spirit and in health,
Was weary of ill-gotten wealth.
I to the cloister saw him
led,
Saw the wide cowl upon his
head;
Heard him, in his last dying
hour,
Warn others from the thirst
of power;
Adjure the orphan of his friend
Pardon and needful aid to
lend,
If heaven vouchsaf’d
her yet to live;
For, could she pity and forgive,
’Twould wing his penitential
prayer
With better hope of mercy
there!
Then did he rank and lands
resign,
With all that was in justice
mine;
And I, pretending to be vain,
Return’d the world its
poor disdain,
But smil’d on Eustace
once again!
“Thus vision
after vision flew,
Leaving again before my view
That [Errata: The] hollow
scene, the scornful crowd,
To which that heart had never
bow’d,
Whose tenderness I hourly
fed;
While thus I to its nursling
said;—
“Be silent, Love!
nor from my lip
In faint or hurried
language speak!
Be motionless within my eye,
And never wander
to my cheek!
Retir’d and passive
thou must be,
Or truly I shall banish thee!
“Thou art a restless,
wayward sprite,
So young, so tender,
and so fair,
I dare not trust thee from
my sight,
Nor let thee breathe
the common air!
Home to my heart, then, quickly
flee,
It is the only place for thee!
“And hush thee, sweet
one! in that cell,
For I will whisper
in thine ear
Those tales that Hope and
Fancy tell,
Which it may please
thee best to hear!
I will not, may not, set thee
free—
I die if aught discover thee!”