Some heartless shout, some pity, all condemn,
While he in fancied envy looks at them: 
He seems the place for that sad act to see,
And dreams the very thirst which then will be: 
A priest attends—­it seems, the one he knew
In his best days, beneath whose care he grew. 
   At this his terrors take a sudden flight,
He sees his native village with delight;
The house, the chamber, where he once array’d
His youthful person; where he knelt and pray’d: 
Then too the comforts he enjoy’d at home,
The days of joy; the joys themselves are come; —
The hours of innocence;—­the timid look
Of his loved maid, when first her hand he took,
And told his hope; her trembling joy appears,
Her forced reserve and his retreating fears. 
   All now is present;—­’tis a moment’s gleam
Of former sunshine—­stay, delightful dream! 
Let him within his pleasant garden walk,
Give him her arm, of blessings let them talk. 
   Yes! all are with him now, and all the while
Life’s early prospects and his Fanny’s smile: 
Then come his sister and his village-friend,
And he will now the sweetest moments spend
Life has to yield;—­No! never will he find
Again on earth such pleasure in his mind: 
He goes through shrubby walks these friends among,
Love in their looks and honour on the tongue: 
Nay, there’s a charm beyond what nature shows,
The bloom is softer and more sweetly glows; —
Pierced by no crime, and urged by no desire
For more than true and honest hearts require,
They feel the calm delight, and thus proceed
Through the green lane,—­then linger in the mead, —
Stray o’er the heath in all its purple bloom, —
And pluck the blossom where the wild bees hum;
Then through the broomy bound with ease they pass,
And press the sandy sheep-walk’s slender grass,
Where dwarfish flowers among the gorse are spread,
And the lamb browses by the linnet’s bed;
Then ’cross the bounding brook they make their way
O’er its rough bridge—­and there behold the bay! —
The ocean smiling to the fervid sun —
The waves that faintly fall and slowly run —
The ships at distance and the boats at hand;
And now they walk upon the sea-side sand,
Counting the number and what kind they be,
Ships softly sinking in the sleepy sea: 
Now arm in arm, now parted, they behold
The glitt’ring waters on the shingles roll’d: 
The timid girls, half dreading their design,
Dip the small foot in the retarded brine,
And search for crimson weeds, which spreading flow,
Or lie like pictures on the sand below;
With all those bright red pebbles, that the sun
Through the small waves so softly shines upon;
And those live lucid jellies which the eye
Delights to trace as they swim glittering by: 
Pearl-shells and rubied star-fish they admire,
And will arrange above the parlour fire, —
Tokens of bliss!—­“Oh! horrible! a wave
Roars as it rises—­save me, Edward! save!”
She cries:  —­Alas! the watchman on his way
Calls, and lets in—­truth, terror, and the day!