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Harper's Stereotype Edition. 
 
 THE 
 
 SIAMESE TWIXS. 
 
 A SATIRICAL 
 TALE OF THE TIMES. 
 
 ^3^o^l IC-ryy, ^^ji XmA^H^ f OnJL*^ //?'^-rn>*^ 
 
 WITH 
 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OP "PELHAM," "THE DISOWNED," 
 "DEVEREUX," "PAUL CLIFFORD," &c. &c. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 PRINTED BY J. ^ J. HARPER, 82 CLIFF-STREET. 
 
 Sold by Collins & Hannay, Collins & Co., G. & C. & H. Carvill, White, Gal- 
 latier, & White, E. Bliss, and C. S. Francis ; — Albany, O. Steele, and Little 
 and Cummings ; — Philadelphia, John Grigg, Carey «fc Lea, Tower & 
 Hogan, E. L. Carey «fe A. Hart, T. Desilver, jr., and U. Hunt ;— Boston, 
 Richardson, Lord, <fc Holbrook, Carter, Hendee, & Babcock, and Hilliard, 
 Gray, & Co. y^BALxiMORE, W. & J. Neal , J. Jewett, and Cushing «fc Sons. 
 
 1.8317 
 
 c . 
 
a 
 
 s 
 
 ^^A <j 1 
 
4 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO 
 
 MRS. BULWER LYTTON, 
 
 OF 
 ENEBWORTH PARK, HERTS. 
 
 My dear Mother, 
 I believe I owe to you the first groundwork of 
 that disposition which inclined me to Poetry ;— which 
 disposition, though it has not enabled me, it is true, to 
 make much proficiency in the " Divine Art," has never- 
 theless given me many hours I should be loath to forget, 
 and many feelings which I would not willingly believe 
 have been altogether fostered in vain. I am not one of 
 those who imagine (" whatever dark thoughts some men 
 in their cells may sit brooding upon,"*) that an early love 
 for Poetry engenders a melancholy temperament, or 
 unfits us, unless exclusively indulged, for the habits 
 of common life : many sentiments it may and does 
 indeed excite within us, that rise beyond the beaten 
 track of existence — sentiments which struggle not 
 against the laudable action, but the low desires and de- 
 filing contagion of the world. But I hold, that while 
 such sentiments are calculated to exalt our future cha- 
 racter, they also multiply, even in refining, the sources 
 of our future enjoyment. Not laying claim myself to 
 the attributes of the poet, but clinging fast to that love 
 and disposition to poetry which I have thus character- 
 
 * Cudworth's Intellectual System, vol. i. 
 
ly DEDICATION. 
 
 ized, and remembering that such inclinations I owe to 
 the interest for poetry you were accustomed to excite in 
 me when a child, and the patient indulgence you ac- 
 corded to my own boyish imitations, I feel that this 
 volume, containing the only verses I have written with 
 the experience and forethought of manhood, can be de- 
 dicated to no one so well as to yourself. Did I anticipate, 
 did I even think it remotely probable, that this attempt 
 in poetry would be hereafter repeated, I own that I 
 would defer the offering till it assumed a character more 
 consonant to your taste, and loftier in itself For we 
 must warmly embrace public motives, in order to feel 
 with what dignity and what justice Satire can defend 
 herself; in order to look beyond her external levity to 
 her latent moral, and to see in her personahties and - 
 her assaults, not rancour to individuals, but ardour for 
 a cause. 
 
 At a ?noment, if not m times, certamlynot propitious 
 to poetry, and conscious, deeply and sincerely con- 
 scious as I am of the weakness of my own attempts, 
 it would be to surpass the sanguineness of authorship 
 to anticipate success. Could I dare to do so, no feel- 
 ing in that success would be so sweet to my ambition 
 as the feeling of the satisfaction it would give to your- 
 self, and of the increased value which such success 
 would impart to the grateful offering of one, whose 
 childhood you nursed with so tender a care, whose youth 
 you educated with so anxious a zeal, and whose man- 
 hood you have contributed to render independent, with 
 so generous and warm a friendship. 
 
 Wishmg you, my dearest Mother, long years of 
 health and enjoyment, — ^believe me 
 
 Ever your affectionate Son, 
 
 E. L. B. 
 
 January 16, 183 L 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Every one knows the story of a certain Divine, who, 
 on beginning the church service, found himself without 
 a congregation; and turning to his clerk Roger, ad- 
 dressed him with " Dearly beloved Roger," &c. An 
 author, now-a-days, in prefacing a volume of Poetry, 
 finds himself a little in the situation of the Divine : and 
 the individual who composes his audience — ^the solitary 
 Roger whom he can address — is his Publisher ! 
 
 Nevertheless, my dear Publishers, I do not think it 
 is quite true (however warmly disappointed Poets, and 
 your yet more disappointed brethren, may assert the 
 fact), that no poetry, whatsoever may be its nature, 
 will attract the popular taste of the present age : still 
 less, indeed, do I incline to the opinion of those indeli- 
 cate and unfeeling critics who assert, with no excusable 
 incivility, that any poetry, if it be very good, will find 
 an equally hearty welcome, whatever be the time of its 
 appearance. Glancing first towards the latter opinion, 
 I think we shall observe that after the death of any 
 pre-eminently popular poet, there is always a sudden, 
 yet a long-continued coolness to the art, which his ad- 
 mirers seem to imagine has expired with himself. Not 
 only the new aspirant, but the poet of established cele- 
 brity, is mortified by indifierence ; and discovers that 
 the broader fame which perhaps he thought oversha- 
 dowed, on the contrary, protected his renown. Since 
 the death of Lord Byron, the poetry of Moore, the 
 friend of the deceased, or of Southey the antagonist, 
 has thus seemed to be less eagerly sought for than 
 during the lifetime of that extraordinary man, when his 
 genius or his faults were the theme of every literary 
 conversation, and the claims of his contemporaries were 
 
 A 2 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 brought forward to illustrate, to lessen, or to contrast trie 
 merits of the popular idol. I apprehend that the same 
 circumstances will apply to every more exciting species 
 of literature ; and had the world lost the author of 
 " Waverley" at the time when the fullest splendour of 
 his celebrity was calling forth a race of no unnoticed 
 emulators, the whole tribe of historical, or even of 
 Scottish novelists would suddenly have sunk into that 
 class of writers, to whose claims the public would have 
 lent the least courteous attention. A great literary 
 man maintains in esteem the whole respectable part of 
 his fraternity, and when he dies they share the same 
 fate as the friends of a savage chief, whom his country- 
 men immolate upon his tomb. 
 
 If, my dear Publishers, we shall find, on an attentive 
 recurrence to literary history, that this observation ii 
 not without truth in general, there was that in the parti- 
 cular instance of Lord Byron which would heighten, 
 perhaps beyond a precedent, the indifference towards 
 the art which had lost so eminent a master. For it is 
 superfluous to say, that no poet ever created so.feverish 
 and so unhealthy, an interest in the popular mind ; and 
 that the subsequent languor and relaxation would neces- 
 sarily be proportioned to the excitement they succeeded. 
 The poetry itself, too, of Lord Byron is of a heated and 
 exaggerated character; and his genius so long taught 
 the public to consider stimulants as a legitimate diet, 
 that while, on the one handjUO succeeding poet could 
 surpass the excitation which he maintained; so, on the 
 other hand, any simpler — I was about to say any more 
 natural — school of poetry might reasonably be expected 
 to appear commonplace and iiisipiA. 
 
 Again, too, while the public, fascinated by the bril- 
 Hatfey'of a bold and unc-ommon genius, grow wedded 
 to his style — even to his faults — they resent with pecu- 
 liar contempt any resemblance to the object of an admi- 
 ration which they affect to preserve as an exclusive 
 worship. And yet how few cian escape from a seem- 
 
PREFACE. VU 
 
 ing imitation, which in reaUty is nothing more than the 
 tone of the age in which they live ; and though more 
 emphatically noted in the most popular poet, than in 
 his less fortunate contemporaries, he also was influenced 
 by, instead of creating. Thus it may be no paradox 
 to say, that a new poet has of late incurred condemna- 
 tion on two grounds, both of which he must have en- 
 joyed a peculiar felicity to escape — one for being unlike 
 Lord Byron, the other for being like him. Perhaps, 
 without carrying the inquiry farther, we have already 
 been enabled to see that there has been reason to be- 
 lieve the times of late somewhat singularly unfavour- 
 able to poetry ; and that you, my dear Publishers, have 
 been Mly justified, by theory as well as experience, 
 for the very cold water you have thrown upon all prof- 
 fered speculations in a branch of business so unprofit- 
 able. 
 
 Yet, on the other hand, is it wholly true that no 
 poetry, whatever be its nature, will succeed ? And, on 
 the contrary, may we not hope that the disadvantages 
 we have glanced at, and with which poetry has had to 
 encounter, may have an apter reference to the period 
 we have lately passed, than exactly to the present ? 
 It is perfectly clear, that at some time or another the 
 indifference towards poetry occasioned by the death or 
 the absorbing genius of one great poet must subside into 
 that customary and natural coldness with which the 
 public will always regard excursions into the higher 
 and more arduous paths of literature. Why should 
 this time be yet an object of distant anticipation? 
 Has not a sufficient period elapsed since the pass- 
 ing away of a great man, to allow the feelings he 
 bequeathed to fade also from that undue influence 
 which they might at first have exercised over the po* 
 pular mind 1 Has not a new generation arisen ? Has 
 not a new impetus been given to the age ? Do not new 
 feelings require to be expressed? and are there not new 
 readers to be propitiated, who, sharing but in a feeble 
 
Vm PREFACE, 
 
 degree the former enthusiasm, will turn, nor with lan- 
 guid attention, to the claims of fresh aspirants 1 Is 
 there not truth in this ? and if so, is not the time ap- 
 proaching, if it be not already arrived, when a poet may 
 expect no obstacle and no contention beyond those 
 eternally doomed to his condition 1 But then what have 
 we said — " that a new race have arisen and new feelings 
 are to be expressed." A poet, therefore, who aspires 
 to reputation must be adapted to the coming age, not 
 rooted to that which is already gliding away. 
 
 The critics err when they say that any poetry that 
 is very good will succeed ; poetry, excellent — nay, sur- 
 prising — is called forth every hour, — yet dies instantly 
 into silence. But then it is poetry which echoes a 
 sound of which we are tired ; — to succeed with a new 
 age, it should be of a new character. Hence it is, my 
 dear Publishers, that duodecimos in stanzas, and octavos 
 in heroics, slumber on your shelves — a warning to you, 
 an omen to us. Hence it is, that so much genius seems 
 utterly thrown away; that so many excellent verses are 
 written which no one reads ; and so many pretty feel- 
 ings are expressed, with which no one can sympathize. 
 We all gi*ant the talent and the power ; but they are 
 wasted in delineating worn-out sentiments and imbody- 
 ing reflections upon which, in the rapid career of the 
 world, we have already decided. All that morbidity 
 of feeling — all that gloomy repining at the ends of life 
 — all that aifectation to be above the aims and detached 
 from the interests of our fellow-creatures ; all such un- 
 wholesome sentimentalities and tumid weaknesses, cha- 
 racteristic of a departing age, do not distinguish the 
 rising. Many among the elder part of the literary 
 world may indeed still consider them the components 
 of a deep philosophy, or the signs of a superior mind. 
 But the young have, I am persuaded, formed a nobler 
 estimate of life, and a habit of reasoning, at once foimded 
 upon a homelier sense, and yet aspiring to more ele- 
 vated conclusions. 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 What feelings may have succeeded the artificial sen- 
 timents that have withered, and which poets daily rise 
 to address, and sink into oblivion for addressing in vain, — 
 or what reception the world may give to the poet who 
 is the first to enter deeply into those feelings, and ex- 
 press them first, — ^remains for men more gifted and more 
 zealous than myself to discover. 
 
 The poem which forms the staple of this volume 
 addresses itself to the humours rather than to the pas- 
 sions of men. Chiefly of a comic and of a lightly 
 satiric nature, it makes little pretence to those provinces 
 to which the ambition of poets is usually directed. 
 And, for my own part, even if I possessed far higher 
 endowments for poetry— far warmer inclinations tOr 
 wards it than I ever, in my youngest days of inexpe- 
 rience, imagined I possessed — I own my belief that I 
 have lived too immediately in that day with the style 
 of which the world has grown weary, not to be imbued 
 in the graver school of poetry with the very faults 
 which I should censure in others : and imbued too 
 deeply, and from too early a period, to allow much hope 
 of exchanging those faults for faults of a more inno- 
 vating and unhackneyed character. In the comic school 
 it is different ; for the comic school has been little cul- 
 tivated in this comitry; and originality in that depart- 
 ment is therefore easier than in one more severe, and 
 yet seemingly more inviting to disciples. If I have now 
 accomplished something which, though a tale and a 
 satire, is yet not evidently plagiarized either froni 
 Byron or from Butler — if without that wearisome 
 straining for novelty in detail, \^^|'ich so rarely leads to 
 any thing better than affectatioii^— the matter and the 
 manner be not, on the whole, without some claim to 
 originality — then shall I be fully satisfied. That you, 
 my dear Publisher^, may be fully satisfied also is a 
 matter equally desirable, but a little more difficult to 
 effect ! 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 The above observations were written some months 
 ago ; since then the aspect of the times has grown more 
 visibly dark and troubled; and the public, occupied 
 with events of stirring moment, have now some solid 
 reason to be less than ever disposed towards " the re- 
 creations of the pleasant loiterer, Poesy." Were this 
 poem of more value, and of a different nature, I should 
 delay its appearance to a less unpropitious moment. I 
 feel, indeed, a little ashamed to produce, at such timesj 
 any thing not more intimately connected with the great 
 causes which now (in the exaggeration of no metaphor) 
 agitate the world. But the crop has been sown, and 
 has ripened, and may stand no longer : in other words, 
 so much of any little attraction my poem may possess 
 depends upon the aptness of its allusions to the present 
 day, that in the present day it must seek its fortune. If 
 it have other merit, indeed, the temporary neglect for 
 which I am prepared cannot become a permanent obli- 
 vion. Without referring to posterity — that last and 
 most perilous appeal of the neglected — a court to which, 
 at this moment, I have not the temerity or the vanity to 
 subject so unimportant a cause — there is yet a lesser 
 and an intermediate tribunal. No man's real reputa- 
 tion, small or great, is made by his exact contempora- 
 ries : it is the generation succeeding, yet witnessing his 
 own — the generation some eight or ten years his junior 
 ■p-by which he is tried. To that generation — ^not in 
 the spirit of dejection or of boasting— but as the first 
 fair and dispassionate tribunal I can obtain, I confide the 
 fate of this work, and of those which, in humbler prose, 
 have been, from the^||t to the latest, actuated by the 
 same objects — objedfi^that may keep alive in me, in- 
 deed, the love of Fame ; but which yet can console me, 
 if I am forbidden to attain it. -. 
 
 January 16, 1831. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 THE SIAMESE TWINS. page 
 
 Book I. 5 
 
 II. ................ 65 
 
 HI. 133 
 
 IV 187 
 
 L'Envoi 249 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 Advertisement to ' Milton* 355 
 
 Part I 257 
 
 II. 267 
 
 Ill 281 
 
 IV. 285 
 
 On the Vanity of Small Successes 289 
 
 To Juliet : The Vindication of Silence .291 
 
 On Forebodings 293 
 
 If the Poor made Laws for the Rich 294 
 
 To Wordsworth , 295 
 
 To JuUet : A Thought at Night 297 
 
 To Juliet ib. 
 
 Love's Watch : To Juliet Sleeping . . 298 
 
 On the Imitators of Byron : a Fable ^f. ib. 
 
 On the Want of Sympathy we experietf Je in the World . . 299 
 The Rats and the Mice ; a Fable of the days of King Arthur. 
 
 Addressed to His Grace the Duke of Wellington . . 300 
 
 To Ina ..... ' ■ 304 
 
 To Ina in Absence : (four years after the last) 305 
 
 Orama ; or the Soul and its Future • . . 30S 
 
BOOK THE FIRST. 
 
INTRODUCTORY LINES TO BOOK THE FIRST, 
 
 TO^CAPTAIN BASIL HALL, R.N., &c. &c. 
 
 While Sovereigns — save our royal Sire, 
 
 Wlio justly has become the rage — 
 Are goods that have begun to tire 
 
 The humours of the ripening Age ; 
 While — thanks to whiskered peers* — ^the clown 
 
 In print, at least, can play the rover — 
 Cross seas whose depth can never drown. 
 
 And shores untrod — in Truth discover ; 
 While ermined " Influence" half-forsakes 
 
 Her flock to no contemn'd attacks ; 
 While Pelham for his boroughs quakes, 
 
 And Jersey trembles for " Almack's ;" 
 While thus the old world ; — Captain Hall 
 
 Writes foolish books about the new — 
 Weeps tears of ink when despots fall. 
 
 And damns poor Murray's lost Review. 
 O ! model of the travelling tribe, 
 
 Though homage Satire always pays ill, 
 She must, with great respect, inscribe 
 
 This book to you, illustrious Basil ! 
 How well you scourge the Yankee race — 
 
 Their codes uncouth, their garbs unsightly ; — 
 
 * See a certain speech of Lord Wilton, in which the people are said to 
 owe their knowled|[6 to the Aristocracy. It is very true !— their linowledge 
 of taxes! " 
 
Xvi THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK I. 
 
 Should Yankees answer, — in their face 
 
 You smile your wise contempt politely.* 
 How well you show, O sapient bore ! 
 
 The curse from taxes to be free ; — 
 And prop the parsons with " one more 
 
 Apt illustration from the sea."t 
 If he be great who nobly dares 
 
 The greatest things with least resources, 
 Oh ! who, most learned Hall, compares 
 
 With you his courage— and his forces 1 
 You ridicule a mighty state. 
 
 Without a grain of wit for satire ; 
 On knottiest points, with ease debate, 
 
 Without one just thought on the matter ; 
 With scarce the Traveller's art to gaze, 
 
 You ape the Sage's to distinguish — 
 And while dear England's laws you praise, 
 
 You quite forget the laws of English. 
 Ev'n now, while Freedom through the lands 
 
 Sweeps gathering on — behold in all 
 His might — on Murray's counter stands 
 
 And fires his popgun- — Captain Hall ! 
 'T is said when famed Alcides slew 
 
 The earth's dread son — that Slumber bound liim— J 
 
 * "In short, said I, unable to suppress a smile."— HaZZ's Travels in North 
 America, vol. iii. p. 411. " I merely smiled, and said nothing." ***** "The 
 lady's suspicions instantly took fire, on seeing the expression of my counte- 
 nance." — Ibid, vol. i. p. 110. A nice, agreeable fellow, for a disputant or a guest ! 
 
 t " To borrow one more illustration from the sea, I should say, that the 
 Established Church may be compared to the rudder, and the country, with its 
 multifarious arrangements of society, to the ship," &c. — Ibid, vol. iii. p. 405. 
 
 This charming metaphor occurs in the most entertaining conversation ima- 
 ginable. Captain H., resolved to prove the blessings of an aristocracy, rotten 
 boroughs, tithes, and lord — I beg pardon — the devil knows what ! sets up an 
 unfortunate Yankee, by way of an argumentative ninepin. Away bowls the 
 Captain, blunder after blunder, folly after folly, as glibly as possible ; and not 
 a syllable of rational defence, ever by accident, comes out of the mouth of the 
 ninepin. I cannot say whether a full-grown American could have answered 
 Captain H. ; but I know, that an English boy of ten years old, with a tolerable 
 private education, would have been a great deal too much for him. 
 
 t There is an old tradition, that when Hercules (the great reformer of tile 
 ancient world) had conquered the giant Antseus — (a sort of Charles the Tenth) 
 —he fell asleep in the Libyan desert, and was suddenly awakened by an attack 
 of the Figmies. 
 
INTROD.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. XVil 
 
 The hero woke — attacked anew — 
 
 And saw — the tribe of pigmies round him ! 
 So Truth some mighty victory gains — 
 
 And lo, the Dwarfs rush out to seize her ! 
 The Giant crushed — there still remains 
 
 Some tribe of Halls that can but tease her ! 
 But from the Traveller now we turn 
 
 One moment to address the Keader ; 
 To him ev'n Satire's self must learn 
 
 To sink the accuser in the Pleader. 
 Forgive a Muse who long hath dwelt 
 
 From ladies of her tribe too distant, 
 Nor learn'd how like thoughts never felt, 
 
 To things that never were existent.* 
 She is not privileged to prose — - 
 
 Let finer bards aspire to weary us ; 
 Most humbly she resigns to those, 
 
 The misanthropic and mysterious. 
 And if she breathe a truth, at times. 
 
 She doth but rarely seek to quarrel ; 
 She strains the Reason through the Rhymes, 
 
 And weaves the smile into the moral. 
 
 A friend to Wisdom, not to Schools — 
 
 Let Dreamers into sects enlist 'em ; 
 For me — at times, if with the fools — 
 
 'T is not the folly of a system, f 
 Be mine to hover round the heart, 
 
 To warn — to warm you by a word — 
 And while I mock the Leader's art, — - 
 
 To shun the livery of the Herd ! 
 
 * A very clever' Author of the day said lo me once, speaking of the present 
 character of poetical similes, that they had only one fault— that of comparing 
 what one had never seen, to what one had never heard of. 
 
 t "The most ingenious way of becoming foolish is by a Bystem."— Shaftes- 
 bury, Advice to an Author. 
 
BOOK THE FIRST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 The introduction of Mr. Fiam— Description of the personal attractions of that 
 gentleman— The improper negligence of his lady— The birth of our heroes— 
 The bustle it occasions— The hypocrisies of name — The resignation of cler- 
 gymen, «fcc.— Aristotle wrong— The danger the Twins incur— Their deli- 
 verance. 
 
BOOK THE FIRST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In Bancok,* — all the world must know 
 
 Bancok 's the Capital of Siam, — 
 There lived, not quite an age ago, 
 
 A gentleman, whose name was Fiam. 
 Of moderate sense and decent fortune. 
 He ne'er had need his friends to importune ; 
 He asked them not to clothe or board him, 
 And therefore all his friends adored him ! 
 For Bancok is a place where you, 
 
 If rich, have love enough to sate you ; 
 But only ask them for a sous, 
 
 And, 'gad ! how bitterly they hate you ! 
 
 Our Fiam was a handsome fellow, 
 His nose was fiat, his skin was yellow ; , 
 Tho' black his locks, with truth you 'd swear 
 His teeth were blacker than his hair ; 
 He might have seemed Apollo's grandson, 
 And borne the bell from Colonel Ans — n.f 
 
 But, spite of this surpassing beauty. 
 His wife had quite forgot her duty ; 
 And (tho' 't was twenty years ago. 
 
 Since marriage first had joined the pair) 
 She ne'er had managed to bestow 
 
 Upon this charming spouse an heir. 
 
 * Or Bangkok. [f A man noted in London for his personal graces,] 
 
 B 
 
14 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK I, 
 
 Now this neglect was aught but proper, 
 And half her friends began to drop her. 
 
 At length (it was one Yan-a-thed)^ 
 Our dame was fairly brought to bed ; 
 And — ^better day the better deed — 
 
 T' atone for all her former sins, 
 To Fiam she to-day decreed 
 
 The kind gratuity of Twins. 
 
 So far, so good ! the Siam nation 
 
 Is somewhat thin of population ; 
 
 And (there, as here, two sects are clamorous, 
 
 The Economic and the Amorous) 
 
 It must have charmed the Siam Saddlers,! 
 
 This doubling on the Malthus Twaddlers ! 
 
 V 
 
 But, ah ! — the worst 's to come ! — for Fate 
 
 Her boon with bane will ever mate. 
 
 And often with her childish antics 
 
 The fairest hope of mortal man tricks ; 
 
 So now she, by a bony tether, 
 
 Joined breast to breast — our Twins together 
 
 This freak of Mrs. Fate's, I fear. 
 
 Would nowhere give much satisfaction, 
 But really — as enacted here — 
 
 It was a most flagitious action. 
 For-r-reader — not like us ! the way 
 
 At Bancok 's always to look down on 
 Whatever Nature may betray 
 
 The smallest preresolve to frown on. . 
 
 I leave you to conceive the scene ! 
 The Siam parson's face serene : 
 
 * Sunday. 
 
 t Mr. Sadler, on whom his godfathers bestowed the most just of all epithets 
 by the most prophetic of all initials— Mr. M. T. (commonly pronounced 
 Empty) Sadler has lately published a book ifl opposition to the followers of 
 Malthus; thesize of it is Very remarkable. 
 
CHAP. I.} THE SIAMESE TWINS. 15 
 
 (Parsons possess in every nation 
 That greatest virtue, resignation ! 
 They also boast — there 's no concealing — 
 A very liberal turn of feeling, 
 Which makes that virtue always shown 
 In your afflictions — not their own !) 
 The witch-read midwife's hint of awe ; 
 The posed look of the man of law ; 
 The wonder of the startled nurses ; 
 And the smote father's stifled curses j— 
 Until at length he sinks him down. 
 With moving lip, but moveless frown ; 
 Familiar footsteps pass him by — 
 Their forms are glassed not on his eye ; 
 And voices merge in clamour near ; 
 But sense lies locked within his ear. 
 
 So sat he in a marble grieving — 
 The comic of the crowd relieving ; 
 And, proving the old dogma wrong, 
 That naught of grief can well belong* 
 To scenes where gayer verse makes rife 
 The humour and the farce of life. 
 
 Meanwhile, of course, with kindly chatter, 
 Comes half the town to learn the matter ; 
 His lunch — (cold pigf) — the gourmand quits, 
 The very cooks desert their spits, 
 The Ava soldier bred to dangers, 
 The Cochinese who lives on strangers, — 
 " So great the infection soft" — have caught it, 
 And cry — " Poor Fiam ! who 'd have thought it ?" 
 
 Though all unravel — no one blames 
 The small hypocrisies of names ; 
 
 * Aristot. de Poetica, sect. xi. 
 r t Fig and ducks are the favourite food of the Siamese. 
 
 B 2 
 
16 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK h 
 
 When Grief's so great we 're really dumb for 't, 
 Garrulity is christened " Comfort !" 
 And all the Paul Prys of the city 
 Indulge their vice, and style it — " Pity !" 
 
 — But on a couch all uncaress'd 
 
 The new-born Infants lay, 
 And not one dusky gossip bless'd 
 
 Their entrance into day. 
 And yet no rude or vulgar grace 
 
 You might m their repose descry, 
 And each to each in close embrace 
 
 They nestled tenderly. 
 
 As if they felt the rude world round 
 
 Already on their being frown'd, 
 
 And knew that some strange spell had hung 
 
 A blot upon a brother's name, 
 Yet made the tie to which they clung 
 
 No less their shelter than their shame ! 
 
 And now all 's hush'd ! — -a certain still awes 
 The motley crowd ; they gaze on each 
 With a quick, meanmg eye — ^but speech 
 Lies stifled v/ith a numbing fear ! 
 
 -A single voice appals the ear, 
 
 And tells — ^but with a whispered breath— 
 
 ' How easy is an infant's death. 
 
 ' And that we only do fulfil laws 
 
 ' Given by nature — to deny 
 
 * Life to the wretched things that mock 
 
 ' Nature herself !' 
 
 Then suddenly 
 There ran a chill electric shock 
 Thro' every woman there whose breast 
 The soft lips of a babe had press'd ; 
 But she who spake — an aged crone — 
 The mother's love had never known ! 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 17 
 
 The gossip ceased ; and you might mark 
 
 The influence of her words was creeping 
 Slowly but sure — throughout the rest. 
 And in the pause, and thro' the dark, 
 
 You heard the mother's quiet weeping. 
 Out rang a sharp and wailing cry 
 
 From where the Twins were lain, 
 And from their first and gentlest sleeping 
 
 They woke to earth and pain ! 
 
 As snows that in some deep ravine 
 
 Lie motionless and dumb, 
 Till at a signal from the beam — 
 Some charm'd voice from the sun — they seem 
 To wake- — wild Genii— from a dream, 
 And changing as they wake — the steep 
 Beholds the transformed torrents sweep, 
 
 And conquer as they come ; 
 Thus, when that signal cry arose. 
 Straight from the warmed and melting snows 
 The Waters of deep love awoke ! — 
 To life the Mighty Instinct broke, 
 And wild and thrilling through the crowd, 
 A Mother's soul speaks out aloud 
 
 " My children — they are mine !" 
 
 And weird, and ghast, and desolate 
 
 That sound of woman's deepest fear, 
 
 Rung on the humbled father's ear ; 
 Where, deadening thought in gloom, he sat 
 With downcast eyes, that loathed to see, 
 And numb hands dropping on his knee ; 
 And, as a voice that from the skies 
 Bids one the grave hath housed arise, 
 He rose : the crowd on either side 
 Fell back ; sound answered not his stride. 
 
18 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK I. 
 
 He reach'd the cradled pair — no word, 
 
 No breath from that hush'd crowd was heard :—?• 
 
 The mother stretched her arms, but she 
 
 Read not the features from her turning, 
 Nor dream'd that there, all visibly 
 
 His heart was to the new-born yearning. 
 She gazed — the pause she could not break ; 
 She gazed — the very power to shriek 
 
 Those parted lips forsook. 
 And in those eyes as in a mirror. 
 Nature beheld herself in Terror ! 
 
 But with a fixed and gentle look 
 
 And trembling clasp, the father took 
 His children : — to her side he came 
 And breathed — yet scarcely breathed — her name. 
 But not another word he said,-- ^ 
 That whisper had exorcised Dread. 
 
 Lo ! on her breast the Twins ! — and there 
 
 They clung, and sought for food, 
 And with fast-dropping eyes — the pair 
 
 The bending mother view'd. 
 And, every moment, you might see 
 She clasp'd them more convulsively ; 
 Looked wildly on the faces near, 
 -Looked — lost — yet doubting turned to fear ! 
 Then as below her glance she cast. 
 Forgot — in shuddering o'er — the past ! 
 With folded arms and tearful smile 
 
 There stands the touched and silent Father ; 
 And hushed and melted round, the while. 
 
 The wondering gossips gaze and gather. 
 And thus, our Twins were saved to flow 
 
 Thro' Time's far stream in rhyme and glory. 
 And inch by inch together grow, 
 
 The heroes of an English story. 
 
BOOK THE FIRST. 
 
 CHAPTER, ir. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Tlie dissimilarity of disposition manifested by the Twins as they gi-ow up — 
 Their mutual complaisance — A sketch of some of the inconveniences attend- 
 ant upon a double life — The introduction of Mr. Hodges ; the valuable truths 
 discovered by that great traveller, as solely indigenous to Siam— The un- 
 gracious reception experienced by Mr. Hodges, in his zeal to reform the 
 Bancok noblemen — His public-spirited resolution ; his harangue, and the 
 equivocal honours wherevpith it is rewarded — The dangers of having great- 
 ness thrust upon us exemplified by a certain fall — The influence which the 
 consequences of that fall exercise over Chang and Ching — Simile, which 
 concludes the chapter. 
 
CHAP. II.] TtiH SIAMESE TWINS. 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I THINK, my own beloved Helvetius, 
 Your reasoning was less sound than specious,. 
 When you averred, howe'er the frame 
 Varied — all minds were made the same ; 
 That every colouring or gradation, 
 Was but the effect of education. 
 And rear'd alike, there had been no 
 Difference 'twixt David Kume and Joe t 
 
 I think 't is clear, my Twins, who ne'er 
 
 A moment could be separated, 
 Must almost every influence* share 
 
 That e'er to either might be fated ; 
 And little to the one or other 
 Could happen, nor affect the brother. 
 And yet they were as much dissimilar 
 As ever Honesty and Miller are ; 
 For me, I have the Spurzheim mania,. 
 And trace the mystery to their crania. 
 
 Now one — but first — a serious thing 
 
 To choose — upon their names we waver 
 
 'T is done ! the gayer 's Master Ching 
 
 And Master Chang shall be the graver. 
 
 Now Chang was slow, he learn'd his letters 
 As if his memory moved in fetters. 
 Crippled his pace, and made him gain 
 The goal of Knowledge grain by grain ; 
 
 ''' External influence. 
 
 B3 
 
''Z'Z . THE SIA3IESE TAVIXS. [bOOE I. 
 
 Yet must you not believe at once, 
 
 That Chang was therefore quite a dunce ; 
 
 His memor}% like a trusty hound, 
 
 Swept, gathermg ^'igour, o'er the ground ; 
 
 "Was iii-m of foot, and sure of breath, 
 
 And ne'er done up before the death. 
 
 Besides, he was a deep reflector, 
 
 A silent, but a shrewd inspector ; 
 
 And early loved, with, patient ken, 
 
 To pry into the hearts of men ; 
 
 Often — while Clung good tlnngs was saying, 
 
 Oi noisily at draughts was playing ; 
 
 Often for hours he sat — so mute, 
 
 You 'd thought some hand from stone had shaped him, 
 Yet not a wrinkle in your boot, ^ 
 
 A twinkle of your eye escaped him : 
 Nor did whate'er he might discover, 
 
 Content, or for a while releix liim. 
 But stiU the shell was brooded over. 
 
 Until it burst into a maxim. 
 His mind thus slowly gathered matter. 
 Which musmg sharpened into satire ; 
 1 o^vn I tliink that the sagacious 
 Are veiy seldom found loquacious : 
 Balbutius may at times abash us : 
 But — oh ! the mute bite of a Cassius ! 
 
 But Chmg was hast}*, quick, and clever. 
 His soul's glad stream flowed out for ever ; 
 He leam'd his tasks by glancmg o'er them, 
 (Though not, like Chang, with care to store them), 
 He loved his jest, altliough a sad one. 
 Nor shunn'd a bottle, though forbade one ; 
 He swore that thought was made for asses. 
 And talked already of the lasses^ 
 
CHAP. 11.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 23 
 
 Chang, though austere, was mild in bearing, 
 
 Calm as a smile from Lady Bury ; 
 But Ching perpetually was swearing. 
 
 And fidgeting himself to fury. 
 Yet Ching's wrath bore not aught unpleasant, 
 Was up, and o'er, quite effervescent. 
 No more conceiving of revenge, 
 Than Siam's masons of Stonehenge ; * 
 
 While rarely Chang,. once roused, forgave — 
 
 But watched his moment to retaliate ; 
 No nature, like the still and grave, 
 
 To fornix — preserve — collect — and rally hate ! 
 Again — Chang's temper was devout. 
 
 So long he prayed — ^I wish you 'd seen it — 
 But Ching, gay wretch ! seem'd half without 
 
 A single sound religious tenet ; 
 Nay, plainest truths, he called too mystical, 
 And laughed at Chang as methodisticaL 
 
 However, Custom softens dowir 
 The small asperities that gall us, 
 
 And Interest, to ourselves unknown. 
 Will still unto herself enthral us ; 
 Thus Chang, and Ching, who early saw 
 'T was vain two hostile ways to draw, 
 Did from their differing minds distil 
 The spirit of a common will ; 
 And by a compact of compliance, 
 They bade their very fate defiance : 
 Just like one flesh where'er they went — or 
 Dove-tail'd like man and horse in Centaur ; 
 Or like Sir Thomas Brown and wife,* 
 Who were so suited to the life, 
 
 * Of this pair it is said, that the " lady was of such admirable symmetrical , 
 proportion to her worthy husband, that they seemed to come together by a ; 
 kind of natural 7nasnetism." 
 
24 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK I* 
 
 So closely knit—so free from schism, 
 It seemed like " Natm-al Magnetism."— 
 And yet that good — that great Sir Thomas, 
 
 Did marriage once so much displease. 
 He wish'd to take it wholly from us, 
 
 And let us — stock the world — " like trees.''''* 
 
 Yet spite of yielding thus mechanically, 
 To aught theii- forms enjoined tyrannically. 
 Their minds (tho' deeming that existence 
 Itself was linked with non-resistance) 
 Would 'gainst the yoke sometimes be straining. 
 And chafe — .altho' without complaining. 
 
 In truth, if differences of temper 
 The bliss of common twins scarce double ; some 
 
 To Chang and Ching, conjuncti semper. 
 Must needs be singularly troiablesome. 
 For, when grave Chang in pensive mood, 
 
 Himself without the door was sunning, 
 Gay Ching some paltry insect viewed. 
 
 And whisk'd his brother into rimning ; 
 And when with some congenial gang 
 
 Gay Ching was playing on the road — a 
 Pious humour seized on Chang, 
 
 Who stalk'd him mto a pagoda ! 
 'T was droll to Rote Chang's doleful eyes, 
 In sad pursuit of butterflies ; 
 And see of mirth that cynic scorner, 
 Whirl'd like a dry leaf round the corner ! 
 Nor less to mark poor Ching, screw'd firm on 
 His seat, bemoraled with a sermon. 
 Or nail'd for hours to hear debate your 
 Siamese seers on " Human Nature,''^ 
 
 * Sir Thomas Browne, author of the " Religio Medici," laments pathetically, 
 that we cannot perpetuate the world like trees. Truly he was a great man.—: 
 See Religio Medici, part n. sect. 8. 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 25 
 
 Our brothers now were in their teens, 
 When lo ! a stranger on our scenes ; 
 Hodges, the member of a mission, 
 To probe the Siam trade's condition, 
 In part a saint, in part a patriot, 
 
 He thought in guilt, and grief, as Patmos* ere 
 " Rome was not Rome," did every state riot, 
 
 Except in happy England's atmosphere. 
 There all was virtue, freedom, bravery ; 
 Without, all ignorance, crime, and slavery. 
 Perhaps he thought with old Fitzstephen,t 
 Our air possess'd some heavenly leaven, 
 And that a moral manna falls 
 From those sweet fogs that cap St. Paul's. 
 His tour to Siam, from Oporto, 
 Is publish'd in three volumes quarto ; 
 From these you '11 learn, if you will buy 'em, 
 Some facts peculiar quite to Siam. 
 He says (no wonder he was smitten 
 With things so opposite in Britain) 
 That Bancok's polished aristocracy 
 Have no great love for the democracy ; 
 Are sometimes proud, and overbearmg, 
 Nor vastly for one's feelings caring. J 
 Strange is this fact — nor less to find, 
 
 That through the Siamese dominion 
 Religion in effect 's confined 
 
 Almost entirely to opinion ;§ 
 
 * Whither the Romans were acciistomed to banish their criminals. 
 
 t William Fitzstephen, writing in the reign of Henry II. , accounts for the 
 goodness of the London people, by the atmospheric properties. " The calmness 
 of the air (he says) doth mollify men's minds, not corrupting them, &c., but 
 preserving them from savage and rude behaviour, and seasoning them with a 
 more kind and free temper." 
 
 t Mr. Finlayson, in his account of the mission to Siam, complains of the 
 " offensive coarseness," the "manifest disregard to the feelings of others," and 
 the " arrogance unbounded" of the highest ranks in Siam. How grateful 
 we Europeans ought to be that these faults are so peculiar to the aristocracy 
 of Siam ! 
 
 § " The people are governed by opinion absurd and uniiiat— not by reason—, 
 by sense— or by kindness."— Fmto2/*o?i's Mission to Siam. Speaking" tStivc- 
 
 #:■ 
 
26 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK I.. 
 
 And rarely, save by paltry fractions, 
 Varies the total of their actions. 
 Unlike us- — who, whate'er yoa say for it, 
 Are really good- — ^because we pay for it ! 
 Ne'er left by Virtue in the lurch 
 But bolstered up by mother Church,., 
 And cured of evils (in which writhes^ 
 Poor Siam) — by a dose of tithes. 
 He also saw the poor were poor. 
 That pockets were not quite secure ;* — - 
 The court in naught beside sagacious, 
 Was far too knowing — when rapacious ; 
 Both sexes too did oft incline awry 
 To penchants for display and finery ;t 
 He saw, with many tears, moreover,. 
 That lords and ladies lived in. clover,. 
 And in an idle vegetation, 
 Produced not sixpence to the nation.:j: 
 Things, so unlike the things in Europe, 
 The good man warmly did to cure hope, 
 
 ward of the Theism of the Chinese, this gentleman observes, " that it "appears 
 to have no effect whatsoever on their conduct." — O things rare and strange ! — 
 How odd must be that people who are governed by absurd opinion ! — How 
 solitary in the world must be that religion which does not influence conduct ! — 
 The excellent Buchanan, in those articles in the " Asiatic Researches," so really 
 valuable, entitled " On the Literature and Religion of the Burmese," hath 
 preceded Mr. Finlayson in the merit of one of his observations. — " It must be, 
 however, confessed," saith he, " that the practice of morality among the Burmas 
 is by no means so correct as might be perhaps expected among a people whose 
 religious opinions have such an apparent tendency to virtue !" — Al^ ! the 
 day is yet to come, all over the world, when our conduct shall obey our reli- 
 gious opinions ! 
 
 * From beggary — a sort qf polite theft practised among the nobility, clergy, 
 and gentry of Siam, something like subscriptions here. Plai7i theft and 
 professional beggary, thanks to a population not regulated by the desires of Mr. 
 Sadler, are little known in the Siamese dominions. 
 
 . t With the above rare discoveries in the Siamese character, and -curious 
 anomalies in the human mind, the acute Mr. Finlayson hath in especial (not 
 that I would diminish our obligations to Captain Crauford's larger and, in many 
 respects, excellent work) been pleased to perplex the moral observer, and 
 supersede the labours of Monsieur de la Loubire, hitherto perhaps the very best 
 traveller who ever explored the East. 
 
 t " It is lamentable to observe how large a proportion of men in this country 
 (Cochin China) are employed in occupations that are totally unproductive to 
 the state, as well as subversive to national industry. Every petty mandarin is 
 attended by a multitude of persons V^—Finlayson^s Mission. Happy Europe,^ 
 wh°.re there are no mandarins I 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 2? 
 
 And vow'd he 'd turn a papist — if he 
 
 Reform'd not "Bancok in a jiffy. 
 
 But search we from St. Paul's to Siam, 
 
 And Flower is much the same as Fiam. 
 
 All love good eating, and good drinking — 
 
 All hate the trouble of much thinking ; 
 
 And all agree, there are no fellows 
 
 So odious, as the over-zealous. 
 
 The Bancok lords at first were civil, 
 
 And merely wish'd him at the devil ; 
 
 But finding Hodges bent to bore, 
 
 They clos'd the matter by the door. 
 
 There, you must know that folks endure not. 
 
 As here, the evils they can cure not ; 
 
 So some, resolved that he should vanish, meant 
 
 To send petitions for his banishment ; 
 
 And Kocliai Sac,*" a very bad man, 
 
 Fropos'd to hang him as a madman. 
 
 But Hodges, though so much he prized 
 
 Our peers — all foreign rank despised, 
 Declared, with generous warmth, he thought 
 
 The same the sovereign and the snob, 
 And swore, since Siam must be taught 
 
 New steps— to lead off with the mob ! 
 
 Accordingly oiu' saint one day, 
 Into the market took his way, 
 Climb'd on an empty tub, that o'er 
 
 Their heads he might declaim at ease, 
 And to the rout began to roar 
 
 In wretched Siamese. 
 
 * Koctiai Saliac, a Malay, or Moorman, useful to his employer (Captain 
 Crauford) but a rascal in general — the so#t of creature in short'^that in Eng 
 land we should call an Agent 1 
 
28 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK I- 
 
 " Brethren ! (for every one 's my fellow, 
 
 " Tho' I am white, and you are yellow,") 
 
 " Brethren ! I come from lands afar 
 
 " To tell you all — what fools you are ! 
 
 " Is slavery, pray, so soft, and glib a tie, 
 
 " That you prefer the chain to liberty ? 
 
 " Is Christian faith a melancholy tree, 
 
 " That you will only sow idolatry 1 
 
 " Just see to what good laws can bring lands, 
 
 " And hear an outline of old England's. 
 
 " Now, say if here a lord should hurt you, 
 
 " Are you made whole by legal virtue ? 
 
 " For ills by battery, or detraction, 
 
 " Say, can you bring at once your action I 
 
 " And are the rich not much more sure 
 
 " To gain a verdict, than the poor ? 
 
 " With us alike the poor or rich, 
 
 " Peasant or prince, no matter which — 
 
 " Justice to all, the law dispenses, 
 
 " And all it costs — are the expenses ! 
 
 " Here^ if an elephant you slay, 
 
 " Your very lives the forfeit pay ; 
 
 " Now, that 's a quid pro quo — too seri- 
 
 " Ous much for beasts naturcB ferce. 
 
 " With us no beast, or bird, is holy — 
 
 " Such nonsense really seems to shame laws I 
 " And all things wild, we shoot at — solely 
 
 " Subject to little hints, call'd ' Game Laws.'' 
 " Your parsons dun you into giving — 
 " Ours take their own — d, paltry living. 
 " Each selfish wish they nobly stifle, 
 " And save aur souls — for quite a trifle. 
 " Our lords are neither mean nor arrogant, 
 " Nor war against broad truths by narrow cant ; 
 " Ne'er wish for perquisites, nor sinecures, 
 '^' Nor prop great ills, by proflering tiny cui-es ;,. 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 29 
 
 " Our goods before their own they rate 'em, 
 " And as for younger sons — they hate 'em ! 
 " Thus all our patriots are invincible : 
 " And, bless you !— as to change of principle ! — - 
 
 " E'en if one wish'd to chouse the people, 
 " One 's by the Lower House prevented ; 
 
 " There, by a slight expense of tipple, 
 " We 've all the Commons represented — 
 " And with such singular ability, 
 " No groat 's ere spent with inutility.* 
 " Thus do we hold both license — and 
 
 " Despotic fetters in ludibrium ; 
 "And thus must England ever stand 
 
 " Erect — in triple equilibriiim ! 
 
 " These are the things that best distinguish men — 
 
 " These make the glorious boast of Englishmen ! 
 
 " More could I tell you, were there leisure, 
 
 " But I have said enough to please, sure ; 
 
 " Now, then, if you the resolution 
 
 " Take for a British Constitution, 
 
 " A British King, Church, Commons, Peers — 
 
 " I '11 be your guide ! dismiss your fears. 
 
 " With Hampden's name and memory warm you ! 
 
 " And, d — n you all — but I '11 reform you ! 
 
 " As for the dogs that won^t be free, 
 
 " We '11 give it them most handsomely ; 
 
 " To church with scourge and halter lead 'em^ 
 
 " And thrash the rascals into freedom." 
 
 Thus Hodges spoke, and ceasing, bowed. 
 Graceful as Burdett, to the crowd, 
 
 ' * Here. the orator proceeds to enlarge upon the excellent formation of our 
 House of Commons. But why print his prolix panegyrics after the Duke of 
 Wellington's pithy eulogium. Besides, before this poem he published, that 
 beautiful formation may be lost to the House of Commons. 
 
 ■*# 
 
30 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK I.' 
 
 Who, need I say, could comprehend 
 No word ah ovo to the end. 
 But thought his accent vastly funny, 
 And hoped he m,eant to give them money. 
 Meanwhile, one wag, a little mellow, 
 
 Cried to his neighbours, with a grin, 
 " Suppose we give this charming fellow 
 
 " A lift upon a palanquin !" 
 As sparks on tinder — ^words that call 
 To mirth— on vulgar meetings fall — 
 Our mob more joyously than gently, 
 Round Hodges closed incontinently ; 
 On him with vigorous hands they set. 
 
 As from his tub he now descended, 
 And plunged him in a sort of net. 
 
 Or hammock, from a pole suspended.* 
 This then was placed upon the shoulders 
 (One at each end) of two upholders. 
 And thus the astounded patriot lodges — 
 On high— think what a rise for Hodges ! 
 Then to-and-fro, and up and down, 
 They trot the patriot through the town, 
 And mark, with many a jovial shout. 
 How well he 'scapes from rolling out ; 
 As now he sits secure, and now. 
 With starting eyes, and horrent brow. 
 On brink of fate appears to hover, 
 Is all but in, and all but over ; 
 Gripes with one hand the net, and shakes 
 
 The other at them in despair. 
 And asks if no damned statute takes 
 
 A British life beneath its care ? 
 
 * " These palanquins consisted merely of a netting in the exact shape of a 
 sailor's hammock, suspended from a pole ; and each vehicle was carried on 
 the shoulders of two men, one at each end of the pole. We at first expe- 
 rienced a little difficulty in preventing ourselves from rolling out of' this con- 
 trivance."— FmZat/50?i'5 Mission to Siam. 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 3^1 
 
 A toss breaks off the words he 's uttering", 
 And swearing trembles into stuttering : 
 I 'm sure you '11 pardon him for swearmg— - 
 It is no joke, that sort of chairing ! 
 And Claudian says (how that old stuff 
 
 Boys read, to all men meet applies), 
 ' That men, like Hodges, must be rough 
 
 ' In manner — when they take a rise /'* 
 
 Now Chang and Ching had all the while 
 
 Been two among the motley meeting, 
 And heard the speech — Ching, with a smile, 
 Listened — and thought some man of guile, 
 
 With juggling -tricks the crowd was cheating; 
 But Chang, with wrinkled brow, and eyes 
 That like an owl's looked wondrous wise, 
 Gravely perceived that must be grand 
 Which was so hard to understand ! 
 If facts were clear, what use in study ? 
 The well of truth is always muddy ! 
 
 Of course these different ways of viewing 
 
 The good man made them also eye 
 With different gaze, the seer pursuing 
 
 His " perilous career on high." 
 Gay Ching his hands with glee was clapping, ^ 
 
 Shouting, " Ah, look ! how near a toss over ;''• 
 Grave Chang, his arms around him wrapping. 
 
 Groaned, " What a state for a philosopher !" 
 Ching thought it was delightful sport, 
 
 Thinking not of the man's longevity ; 
 Gjave Chang made maxhiis on the short-. 
 
 Sighted and vulgar lust of levity ! 
 
 And now the crowd's career at last 
 (Just as by Fiam's door it pass'd) 
 
 * " Asperius nihil est huinili cum. surgitin altumJ^— Claudian. 
 
33 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK I. 
 
 Came all abruptly to an end ! 
 
 For one of Hodges' two upbearers 
 Had an enchanting female friend 
 
 (A chambermaid to Mrs. Fiam), 
 
 And she, of course, was of the starers, 
 Who, with stretched neck and merry grin, 
 Looked out, and saw the palanquin. 
 
 As now 't was bouncing by 'em. 
 
 Who doth not know what mischiefs rise 
 From single glance of maiden's eyes 1* 
 Both, by the sport exhilarated. 
 And by the maiden's looks elated. 
 Willing to kill the girl with laughter, ■ 
 Not caring what might happen after. 
 This cursed fellow stopped, and sign'd 
 To t' other what was in his mind ; 
 And then while Hodges, naught suspecting, 
 His breath was slowly recollecting. 
 Deeming at length these barbarous men — a 
 
 Glimpse of reason had enlightened. 
 And that his course aerid pennd, 
 
 Would leave him now less hurt than frightened,--?*- 
 The two their siiiews strained, and sent 
 
 Their load, with such a heave, on high. 
 You 'd thought the luckless saint was sent 
 
 Upon a mission to the sky. 
 With hair erect, and long limbs sprawling, 
 The sight was really quite appalling ; 
 So high he went, with such celerity. 
 It seemed as for some godlike merit, he 
 Carried from earth like great Alcides 
 To Jupiter's ambrosial side is. 
 But, oh ! as maiden speakers break 
 Down when their highest flight they take ; 
 
 * I think this couplet I must alter, 
 It smacks too strongly of Sir Walter! 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINSi 33 
 
 Ev'n so (while fearing to be crushed 
 
 Each idler from beneath him dodges), 
 Swift, heavy — like an avalanche — rush'd 
 
 To earth the astonish'd form of Hodges* 
 He lay so flat, he lay so still, 
 He seem'd beyond all farther ill. 
 They pinch'd his side, they shook his head, 
 And then they cried, " The man is dead !" 
 On this, each felt no pleasing chill ; 
 
 For e'en among the Bancokeians, 
 A gentleman for fun to kill, 
 
 Is mostly punish'd — in plebeians. 
 They stare — look serious — mutter — cough— 
 And then, without delay, sneak off; 
 Nor at a house for succour knock'd, or 
 Thought once of sending for the doctor. 
 
 Fair Nature, in the young, thy beauty 
 
 In every clime is seen the best ! 
 And that which manhood makes a duty. 
 
 Is impulse m the youthful breast. 
 So now, our brothers, who, howe'er 
 
 Differing in powers, and predilections. 
 Still, nor in stinted measure, share 
 
 Man's loveliest attribute, affections — 
 Remain behind the vanished crowd 
 Kneeling, and o'er the sufferer bowed. 
 It was a pleasing sight to view, 
 
 The same divine expression heighten 
 The likeness of the linked two. 
 
 And o'er their dusky features brighten ; 
 Until you saw what nameless graces 
 Breathe into love the rudest faces ; 
 When to the outward canvass start 
 The living colours of the heart. 
 
M THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK I. 
 
 Meanwhile, outflock, in mix'd confusion, 
 
 All Fiam's household to the stranger ; 
 And with the help of Chang and Ching, 
 Beneath their roof the saint they bring. 
 
 A surgeon call'd — ^they find the danger 
 Is less than they conceived, — a groan 
 At least announces life not flown ; 
 They clear the blood that darkly oozes 
 Out from the scull — and their conclusion 
 Is, that a very sad contusion, 
 A broken leg — a score of bruises. 
 Make of the damages they note all— 
 The items of the pleasing total, 
 Far from enough to cure, I 'm doubting, 
 So great a patriot of mob-spouting. 
 
 Here for the present, to the care 
 
 Of Fiam and the brother-pair. 
 
 We '11 leave poor Hodges, to discover 
 
 Virtue in Bancolc — and recover. 
 
 As Chang and Ching, for ever by him. 
 
 Each with a different comfort ply him. 
 
 Ching plays at cup-and-ball t' amuse 
 
 The dulness of the flagging hours ;- 
 Collects each little scrap of news. 
 
 And brings him sugar-plums, and flowerSo 
 While in a mystic murmur, Chang 
 Instructs him with a v/ise harangue ; 
 Talks of vain mortals' vague solicitudes, 
 And that fresh subject. Fate's vicissitudes : 
 Varying the novel theme with stories, 
 How other legs were broke before his. 
 Hodges, in turn, the twain delights 
 With noble deeds, and wondrous sights, 
 Things done, and doing, which the fame 
 
 Of other countries quite extinguish ; 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 
 
 And prove no people ought to claim 
 A ni'^^ent's notice — save the English. 
 
 'T is clear to, see, that tales like these 
 
 Must win„upon our Siamese ; 
 
 And soon that strong and keen desire, 
 
 Which rarely youth resists- — to roam, 
 Prey'd on their hearts, and made them tire 
 
 Daily of happiness, and home. 
 Alas 1 in vain in every shore. 
 
 For something never won, we yearn ! 
 Why needs this waste of toil, before 
 
 Life's last, yet simplest truth we learn ? 
 Oh ! that our early years would own 
 The moral of our burial-stone : 
 The true to kalon of the breast — 
 The elixir of the earth is — Rest! 
 
 As birds that seek athwart the main, 
 
 Strange lands where happier seasons reign, 
 
 Where to soft airs the rich leaf danceth, 
 
 And laughs the gay beam where it glanceth — 
 
 Glancing o'er fruits whose purpling sheen 
 
 May court the rifling horde unseen ; 
 
 For there Earth, Air, and Sun conspire 
 
 To curb, by sating, man's desire — 
 
 And man, half careless to destroy. 
 
 May grant ev'n Weakness to enjoy. 
 
 So Hope allures the Human Heart, 
 
 So shows the land and spreads the chart ; 
 
 So wings the wishes of the soul. 
 
 And colours, while we seek, the goal ! 
 
 The shore (as on the wanderers fly) 
 They left — ^hath melted into sky. 
 
36 THiE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK I. 
 
 The shore they seek-^Alas ! the star 
 That guides on high, seems scarce so far. 
 With weary wing, but yearning breast, 
 UnUke the dove they find no rest. 
 The broad Sea with its aching sound, 
 The desert Heaven hath girt them round. 
 On, on ! — and still the promised shore 
 Seems far — and faithless as before ; 
 And some desponding droop behind, 
 And some are scattered by the wind ; 
 And some — perchance who best might guide — 
 Sink — ^whelm'd the first — beneath the tide. 
 
 Thus on, the hearts that hope decoys. 
 Fly o'er life's waste to fancied joys. 
 The goal unseen — the home forsaken, 
 Dismay'd, but slow, from dreams we waken. 
 The friends — -with whom we left the shore, 
 Most lov'd— most miss'd, are seen no more : 
 And some that sink, and some disparted, 
 But leave the lingerers weary-hearted. 
 
 On — onward still — how few remain 
 Faint — flagging — of that buoyant train. 
 With glittering hue, and daring wing, 
 And bosom that must burst or sing. 
 On — on ! a distant sail appears — 
 It comes — exhaustion conquers fears ; 
 And on the deck, a willing thrall. 
 The wearied hopeless, victims fall ; 
 And ev'n amid their dreadest foes 
 Feel less of peril than repose ! 
 And thus — oh ! thus ! no more deceived— 
 Worn out, tamed, baffled, and bereaved, 
 From all our young life loved self-banished ; 
 The glory from the dull wing vanished ; 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 37 
 
 Bowed by the distance, and the gale, 
 The hardest faint, the boldest fail. 
 Whate'er the spot that proffers rest 
 We drop — ^the Victim or the Guest ; 
 And after all our wanderings past. 
 Feel Death has something sweet at last. 
 
 C 
 
BOOK THE FIRST. 
 
 CHAPTER ni. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Address to "the British Fair"— The character of Hodges more fully developed 
 — His felicitous project — Its success with Fiam — Fiam's character vindi- 
 cated ; and an unfortunate habit in the private life of that gentleman publicly 
 exposed — The unjust and frivolous tattle of the fashionable circles in Bancok 
 — The conversation of the Twins, and the design therein unfolded— Lines 
 on the ancient Magians — Their pretended successors — The adventurous ex- 
 pedition of the brothers, with all they saw by the way — The Hindoo Temple 
 — Its mysterious tenant — The incantation, and the prophecy. 
 
GHAP. ra.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 41 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 You know those queer old Novels found in 
 
 Some Watering Place's Athenaeum, 
 A marble, motley coat, half bound in, 
 
 And oh ! so thumbed — I think I see 'em !■ 
 All about love, Ma'am, and the " Major," 
 We Novel-wrights have now grown sager. 
 Majors, indeed ! — the vulgar churls !-— 
 We make your lowest flirters Earls. 
 You know the books I mean — too foil 
 Of curious phrases to be dull. 
 Their oddities respect bespeak, 
 
 Like images grotesque on china ; 
 If manly, writ by " Captain Meek," 
 
 If moving — why, by " Jane Selina ;" 
 Mid these, my fair readers, you 
 
 May note at times the charming writer 
 Improves his tone, and at some new 
 
 Chapter, grows suddenly politer ; 
 Makes female excellence his care. 
 And dashes off, " Ye British Fair !" 
 
 This plan resolved to follow him in, 
 Hear me one word, sweet countrywomen ! 
 I hear a certain novel, lately 
 Sent forth by me, displeased you greatly ; 
 You thought the gentry of the road 
 Should choose their words more d-la-mode ; 
 You felt indignant that such ug- 
 
 Ly words my vulgar folks should utter, 
 
4^ THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK I. 
 
 And Peggy Lobkins of " the Mug," 
 
 Be less refined than Lady Flutter ; — 
 And you were right I must allow, 
 But I will mend my manners now, 
 Bid Nature seek some other place, 
 Paint man no more^-but sketch " his Grace ;" 
 Mince truth like any other Mister- — 
 And shrink, smirk, drivel into L r « 
 
 Soft sex, I yet recall the hours 
 When ye gave life its only flowers ; 
 Nor truant hope once pass'd the ground. 
 To which your smiles had set the bound. 
 And shall I now forego the dream. 
 
 That ev'ry mortal bard hath fired ; 
 Nor think those starry eyes will beam 
 
 Upon the verse they first inspired 1 
 No ! my sweet friends, altho' at times 
 
 A Godhead more severe and stupid, 
 May seize some dozen of my rhymes, 
 
 The prettiest still are kept for Cupid. 
 I own the chapter you have pass'd. 
 Was rather of too coarse a cast. 
 And feel your interest poorly lodges. 
 In such a tenement as Hodges. 
 But patience, patience, and proceed — 
 
 When once in England we are landet' 
 Such pretty things you '11 find — indeed 
 
 I 'm sure you '11 own it, if you 're candid ! 
 A general satire, quite refined. 
 But also stinging, on mankind ; 
 Some things especially I 've painted. 
 With which " your Graces" are acquainted. 
 Smart, striking, sidelong, Silhouette touches — 
 To charm the haut gout of a Dutchess. 
 One draught of that sweet inebriety—. 
 The best champaign of " good society ;" 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. ' 43 
 
 And just to zest the " glass of fashion," 
 
 Un petit verre of cream of passion ; 
 
 And, that your interest may n't be lost, 
 
 Our love shall be so nicely cross'd — 
 
 Then, too, a mystery — and a dear 
 
 (But not too shocking) dash of fear. 
 
 And then, so well our poem ends ! 
 
 Not as you 'd think ! Ah, come — we 're friends ! 
 
 That smile shall light me on to glory, 
 
 And now — shall I resume my story ? 
 
 Tho' Hodges was the Bancok talk. 
 
 As a most odd, eccentric being, 
 You scarce thro' Oxford-street could walk, 
 
 Without a score just like him seeing. 
 I call him samt, but do n't mistake. 
 
 He was not one of those who enter 
 The fold for piety's sole sake, 
 
 Nor was our traveller a dissenter. 
 Not one of those malign'd, and bold 
 Descendants of that race of old. 
 Who to the death, and thro' the scathe. 
 Ne'er sever'd freedom's badge from faith, 
 But made heaven's cause and earth's the same ! 
 
 Their children have not dimmed their name. 
 
 No ! spurns our lay one recreant line 
 That points its shaft to things divine ; 
 Not less a sure ally to those ' 
 
 Truth loves, than fearless to her foes. 
 Note — in our travell'd sage we paint 
 A sectless and a self-dubbed saint, 
 A sort of moral Andes, curled 
 In clouds " above one-half the world,"* 
 And thro' Conceit's sublimest portals, 
 Lowering on less exalted mortals. 
 
 * CampbelL 
 
44 THE SIAMESE tWJSiS. [BOOK t 
 
 Yet, tho* not wise, upon the whole 
 
 He really was a worthy soul ; 
 
 Fond of a bottle, and a story, 
 
 A stanch, old-fashioned ultra-tory, 
 
 For ever watchM at each bank, 
 
 Fencing the rivulets of rank, 
 
 FearM those streamlets once so single, 
 
 Should break, and in one deluge mingle. 
 
 In love for lords he 'd yield to no man — 
 
 Yet patriotic as a Roman ; 
 
 Loyal as Curteis with his kilt on — 
 
 In short, the man so miss'd by Wilton.* 
 
 Much had he travelled to and fro, 
 
 And brought great profit to the " Row." 
 
 His Tours, his Voyages, I 'm told. 
 
 By Longman, have in thousands sold. 
 
 No wonder ; for he rarely proses 
 
 On what yoiu- dullards want to know ; 
 Statistics, Commerce, Law, are doses 
 
 Which he allows us to forego. 
 Or, wliile above Amusement floats- 
 Instruction, lead-like, sinks to — notes. 
 But well the feeling soul he treats 
 With all he drinks, and all he eats ; 
 With how his sleep by noisy cocks 
 
 Is ever and anon demolished ; 
 How men are seen in ill-brushed frocks, 
 
 And boots are scandalously polished. 
 Matter like this can't fail to spell 
 The world's attention, and to sell. 
 
 Sojourning lately in Calcutta, 
 
 He 'd joined the mission sent to Siam, 
 
 * See note to page 11.— In the same speech therein alludedto Lord Wilton 
 eeems to lament the want of those departed patriots— who complained' of 
 nothing. 
 
CHAP, m.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 45 
 
 To ascertain if, should we put a 
 
 Cargo of goods in port, they 'd buy 'em. 
 
 An opportunity such folks 
 
 To paint, he very wisely took, 
 
 And, like a better at the Oaks, 
 
 He thought of making up Ms hook !* 
 
 Nay, when that accident infernal 
 
 Occurred, he 'd got thro' half his journal. 
 
 Now, as in Fiam's house he lay, 
 
 And " Sketches of the Court" concluded, 
 A certain brilliant scheme one day 
 
 Into our traveller's brain obtruded. 
 This was no less than back to Eng- 
 Land — ^to take with him Chang and Ching. 
 He saw at once, that love for shows. 
 
 Which stamps us as the " Staring Nation," 
 Would make two youths so formed as those, 
 
 A very pretty speculation. 
 
 For tho' he 'd now and then a spasm 
 
 Of what we call enthusiasm. 
 
 Somehow the patriot's whole romance 
 
 Was friendly to the — ^humph ! — main chance ! 
 
 Sagely he therefore seized his time. 
 
 When, having drawn with much pomposity 
 The raptures of our rainy clime. 
 
 He saw the youths all curiosity ; 
 And kindly looking on the pair. 
 
 As if from bashfulness to free them. 
 He said, with an obliging air, 
 
 " We 'd be extremely glad to see them !** 
 Then, as he saw, with eyes all glistening 
 With gratitude, the father listening. 
 
 [* A betting phrase on the race-course.] 
 
 C3 
 
46 THE SIAMESE TWn^S. [bOOK I. 
 
 He added hints upon the fine 
 
 Fortune with ease to be acquired, 
 Were they but here, and would resign 
 
 Themselves, dear boys, to be admired ! 
 
 He 'd undertake, if such a plan 
 
 Were followed, properZy conducted-^ 
 For, sans experience, bungling man 
 No scheme without a flaw constructed ;— 
 He 'd undertake, that, in returning. 
 They 'd bring not only lots of learning, 
 But what in Bancok greater dash 
 Made mid the havt ton — ^lots of cash. 
 This scheme the father greatly charmed^ 
 
 But most unqualified emotion 
 It gave his lady — quite alarmed 
 
 At the mere mention of the Ocean.* 
 NHmporte; at Siam, to its shame. 
 Not oft the spouse consults his dame ; 
 And with such warmth to the de&igm 
 Did Fiam seriously incline. 
 Its nature, day by day revolving. 
 That thought at last became resolving. 
 He made with Hodges an agreement 
 
 About the profits of the thing ; — 
 One-half was for the patriot's fee meant. 
 
 The other went to Chang and Ching. 
 He ne]«it on Hodges sought to play 
 
 (And did at length succeed) the attorney j 
 And settled that the saint should pay 
 
 The whole expenses of the journey. 
 'T is every where we see a sad age. 
 In Siam craft is quite an adage ; 
 The cunning of those yellow fellows 
 Makes even Europeans jealous. 
 
 * The Siamese have a superstitious dread of going 
 
 " O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea.* 
 
CHAP, m.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 47 
 
 EusEBirs saith, that craft or fraud, 
 
 The pious cannot but applaud, 
 
 Declares — ^no doubt he 's right about it — 
 
 Some scarce would be convinced without it. 
 
 And thus a good dose of deceiving, 
 
 ' Makes physic' for the unbelieving ;* 
 
 Yet every soul in Siam is sick, 
 
 Tho' fed entirely on this physic.f 
 
 The bond completed, Fiam saw 
 'T was made quite good in Bancok law ; 
 Not doubting that, that law would tie 'em 
 As close in England as in Siam : 
 The thing was really now decreed. 
 Transportedly the twins agreed ; 
 For, with a joyous and a busy pate, 
 Each did the scenes described anticipate. 
 Nor think our sire, that with a stranger 
 
 He let his only sons depart, 
 Unheedful of their risk of danger, 
 
 Or nursing a Rousseau-like heart. 
 No — learn the mystery in my naming 
 The Mercury of all nations, " Gaming." 
 Now, though at Bancok, as in London, 
 The laws forbid you to be undone : 
 No code, devised however cleverly. 
 Can bar one bent to play the Beverly. 
 So, by some Stukelys of the fashion, 
 
 Living like others cash on — 
 
 (And faith, the prettiest way to feast !) 
 Fiam had been most sadly fleeced. 
 
 * "On Se^oEi TTorl tw 4'^'"^^'^ '*'"■' (PapiJ^aKov %p>7^aAct sm uxpeXiia tZv Seo' 
 niv(i)v Tov TOioirov rpd-Kov. — Euseb. Frcsp. Evang. 1. xii. c. 31. 
 
 This doctrine of the piety of fraud is commoa among nearly all the primitive 
 writers of the church. 
 
 t The cunning and falsehood of the Siamese is a hitter subject of complaint 
 with all their visiters. 
 
48 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK I. 
 
 Folks there, are now but slowly learning 
 
 That beautiful resource called " credit j" 
 And Fiam, to the future turning, 
 
 Began to see good cause to dread it. 
 Yet for himself, foreboding smote 
 
 The doting father's heart less — ah ! less 
 Than those who would not have a groat, 
 
 When left upon the world papaless ! 
 And there, wh^re both reward and penance 
 Are held decreed to this world's tenants.* 
 Where every piece of luck that raises 
 One's fortune, but one's virtue praises ; 
 And the calamities that dish us 
 Are merely proofs that we are vicious ;— 
 'T was clear, with such a faith and nation, 
 Our Twins' peculiar situation, 
 If coupled with an empty purse, 
 Would be esteemed no trivial curse ; 
 And that the world would act most oddly, 
 If kind to sorrows so ungodly. 
 This foresight, then, had made the father 
 Yield to the patriot's scheme, — nay, rather 
 A project that at once appeared 
 To cure the very ills he feared, 
 The fortune he had lost replace, 
 Rob his boys' doom of its disgrace, 
 And make them, with such slender labours 
 Quite independent of their neighbours, 
 He deemed so strangely happy, that 
 He gave the honour to the Nat.f 
 Nay, to naught le.,s he could compare it, 
 
 Than to the might of those who muse 
 
 » Rank in this life is held by the Boudhists as a proof of moral excellence 
 in a former— so are all worldly blessings. In Siam and the Burman empire, a 
 man acts as well as he can, in the hope of being made a lord a/i!er he dies— just 
 as in certain other countries, a man acts as ill as he can, in the hope of being 
 made a lord before that event. 
 
 t Nat— Superior beings in the Boudhist religion. 
 
CHAP, in.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 49 
 
 On man in the ZadumahariU* 
 
 And stand three leagues without their shoes ! 
 
 Thus, to his guest his sons committing, 
 You '11 own in Fiam not unfitting. 
 No hardness of the heart betraymg, 
 But a sire's anxious care displaying. 
 
 Not so his neighbours ! — long and loud 
 
 Tattled the fashionable crowd : 
 
 They were so shock'd they scarce could speak, 
 
 Especially, of course, the women all ; 
 They 'd always thought him very weak, 
 
 But this was absolutely criminal. 
 What, send away one's sons from home. 
 On bits of wood o'er waves to roam ! 
 Travel, indeed ! what for ? was not 
 All wisdom centred in one spot ? 
 All virtue, learning, bliss, pomp, show, 
 
 All with which Boudha could supply 'em. 
 To see, hear, taste, enjoy, and know, 
 
 — ^Were they not all confined to Siam ? 
 Travel, indeed — with such a fellow too. 
 Whose skm was any thing but yellow too ! 
 
 While thus his friends (friends are so moral 
 
 About pur acts ! ) with Fiam quarrel, 
 
 We '11 listen to our brothers, walking 
 
 Alone, and close engaged in talking. 
 
 A wild design is theirs, I ween, 
 
 Pray Heaven, it ripen to a scene. 
 
 " I hear," quoth Chang, " the sorcerer's art 
 
 " Surpasseth Reason's cramp'd believing ; 
 " And— just look round, Chmg ! for my part, 
 
 " I dare say, there is some deceiving ; 
 
 * The Nat of the Zadumaharit are of the most exalted order ; their height 
 is half a juzana ; a juzana being six Burma leagues, and four ratoen. 
 
50 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOE Ir 
 
 " Yet, ere our land, our home we change, 
 " Launch in a scheme that seems so strange, 
 " Trust hope and life to fortune frail, 
 " And with our guest, in short, set sail, 
 " 'T were well to hear what one so wise 
 " As he we speak of would advise ; 
 *' Or, since, perchance, to our intent 
 " The will may be already bent, 
 " Rather, 't were well to lift the veil 
 
 " Athwart the future's gloom ; 
 •* And know what peril may assail, 
 ' *' Or pleasure soothe — our doom !" 
 
 " Well said," cried Ching, " the scheme 's a bold one j 
 " One likes to have one's fortune told one. 
 " 'T is new moon, by-the-by, to-night, 
 
 " It can't do any harm to hear him ! 
 " To start betimes would be but right ; 
 
 " We live, you know, by no means near him." 
 Rejoiced to Jfind gay Ching so mettled, 
 Chang nods assent — th' affair is settled. 
 
 In those dark climes of farthest Ind 
 
 Yet reigns that weird, and wondrous Science, 
 To which, ev'n here, the illumin'd mind 
 
 Hath sometimes quail'd from its defiancev 
 Dread relics of that solemn lore 
 
 From eldest Egypt haply brought, 
 And to the Magian Seers of yore 
 
 In terror and in mystery taught 
 By the eternal stars ; — what time 
 
 Night deepened to her ghastly noon. 
 And, paled beneath the muttered rhyme, 
 
 Grew faint the pausing Moon. 
 There, while the sparr'd and dropping caves 
 
 Murmured, as from their depth were called 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 51 
 
 New Shapes released from former graves, 
 And the earth's dreader^ beings — thralled 
 To grosser ether, by the Power 
 And the dark Rulers of the Hour! 
 While Nature sickened into dearth, 
 The swift winds fell upon the waves 
 With Fear struck dead ; and Silence palled 
 
 The torpor of the tomb-like earth ; — 
 There, by their rocky homes, the Seers 
 Of the Dark Wisdom lonely sate, 
 And from no human oracle, 
 Nor Druid shade, or Delphic cell. 
 But from the arch untrodden spheres 
 Drew forth the voice of Fate ! 
 
 Ye whom the Magian spell'd of old, 
 
 The orbed and glorious Thrones of Heaven, 
 Will ye in truth no more unfold 
 
 The lore to Earth^s gray Fathers given 1 
 What wondrous arts that pierce the deep 
 
 Of Time, and from slow nature win 
 Her secrets, ay, her empire ; sleep 
 
 Your hush'd and hoarding shrines within ! 
 And still we gaze, and gaze, and yearn. 
 
 And, with mysterious pinings, feel 
 The soul — perchance your offspring — ^burn 
 
 For what your voices can reveal ! — 
 Mute — mute — ye from your height survey 
 
 Our longings vague, our visions vain ; 
 And, drawn to earth, we turn away, 
 
 And sicken to ourselves again. 
 
 Still linger in the vast abode, 
 Where once the Magian learning glowed 
 Fond dreamers wild and self-deceiving, 
 Feedmg strange thoughts in loneliness ; 
 
52 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK I. 
 
 And, in one empty science, weaving 
 
 The threads of each unhallowed guess. 
 Gaunt Fast and sternest Penance joined 
 To the great Awe, which is the soul 
 Or demon of all solitude, 
 Darken the fancies of their mind 
 
 Into a grim and gathering mood, 
 Till madness blackens o'er the whole. 
 
 Such is the stuff from which is made 
 
 The mould of those in half-lit climes, 
 Whom hooded millions have obeyed, 
 
 Drunk with the lust of fire and scathe, 
 
 And mailed to mercy by a faith 
 That spnmg from Phrensy's densest shade, 
 A madness modell'd to a trade. 
 
 And grown a creed by crimes ! 
 
 To one of these wild seers the Twins 
 Are bound, and ere the earliest ray 
 
 Of the New Moon* her reign begins, 
 Behold them on their unwatch'd way. 
 
 They pass'd along by the Menam's side, 
 
 With its floating streetsf on the twilight tide. 
 
 And laughter and voices echoed afar 
 
 From the idle groups in the gilt bazaar ; 
 
 But the clear smooth note mid the din they distinguish. 
 
 Of the cunning Chinese, who are cheating the English. 
 
 They have left the city behind them now ; 
 And, along the gladden'd ground, 
 
 * The reader will bear in mind, that both in the Boiidhic and Hindoo super- 
 stitions, the time of the new moon is one of peculiar and mystic power. 
 
 t " On each side of the river (Menam) there was a row of floating habitations 
 resting on rafts of bamboo moored to the shore. These appeared the neatest 
 and best description of buildings; they were occupied by good Chinese shops." 
 — Crauford's Embassy to Stam, p. 79. 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 53 
 
 There stealeth a scent from each purple bough, 
 
 In the thousand orchards round.* 
 O'^ the thin, frail plank, that the deep canal 
 
 Bridges, they gliding go ; 
 And the maw of the crocodile waits their fall. 
 
 As he watcheth them from below. 
 For two-and-twenty comely fanes 
 
 In sight, the wealth of the town bespeak ; 
 But the purse of the citizen never contains 
 Enough for a bridge o'er a single creek.f 
 The night hath advanced ; and the sharp, shrill cry 
 
 Of the ger.Jf.oj^ breaks forth from the herbage dark J 
 And out, o'er the hush of the breathless sky, 
 
 Sweeps the Moon in her stately bark. 
 They see (in Siam a frequent sight — 
 
 A drollish sort of a constitution hers !) 
 A robber, who should have been hang'd that night, 
 
 Walking coolly off with his executioners.^ 
 To the heart of the plain they have pass'd, and there 
 
 The Moon on a temple shone, 
 And they note a Chinese with his braided hair. 
 By some embers employ'd alone : 
 
 * Bancok is surrounded by orchards. 
 
 t " The town (Bancok) is huilt on a rich tract, «fec., intersected by numerous 
 
 creeks and canals We had to pass under a bridge, which, after 
 
 the profusion of expense which we had lately witnessed in the temples, af- 
 forded a surprising example of the stupid inattention of a despotic government 
 and a superstitious people to all objects of public convenience and utility: the 
 value of a very few of the brass images which we saw yesterday would have 
 been stifficient to build a noble bridge at this place, where it was so much 
 required; but the one which we now saw consisted of a single plank, and was 
 elevated to the giddy height of at least thirty feet. We proceeded in all about 
 five miles. In ottr route, we counted no less than twenty-two temples."— 
 Crau/ord's Embassy, 127-130. 
 
 > t A sort of lizard of nocturnal habits— made on purpose to disturb Captain 
 Crauford at night. 
 
 § " A celebrated gang robber, whose apprehension had cost the Siamese 
 government a great deal of trouble, and who was placed in charge of the 
 Prah-klang, took this opportunity to effect his escape. The mode in which he 
 accomplished this afforded some insight into the character of the servants of 
 the Siamese government. The robber seduced the whole guard, and walked 
 off with them ; thus not only effecting his own escape, but taking with 
 hiift an armed and organized body of depredators."— Craw/brd's Embassif^ 
 
54 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK I. 
 
 He was stirring up the bones of his sire, 
 
 With a tool like a gardener's prong ; 
 He had burnt him that day by a famous fire, 
 
 And was closing his task with a chaerfiil song.* 
 
 They have gone many miles since the night begun, 
 And the mystic moon to her height hath won. 
 They pause by the jaws of a tangled wood, 
 For gloomily there the shadows brood, 
 
 And they thought how the tigers in search of food 
 From the distant forest had lately strayed, 
 
 - — And they looked on each other, and mutely prayed. 
 
 They are walking on with a trembling tread. 
 And painful the path through the jungle to thread ; 
 And their hearts beat high at the sullen crush 
 Of the boughs swinging back to their broken hush ; 
 And they hear the hiss of the startled snake. 
 And they see the bed in the trampled brake, 
 "Where some ravening beast, aroused by the moon 
 To his prey, had reposed through the sultr" noon. 
 
 But aye, as they paused for breatn, the part 
 Of the cheerer was donned by the darker heart ; 
 For the nerves of the one, whom in safety ye deemed 
 
 The gallanter spirit, now quail and cower. 
 While the calm which in common a dulness seemed, 
 
 Grew courage when kept thro' the perilous hour. 
 
 The jungle is cleared, and the moon shines bright 
 On a broad and silent plain ; 
 
 * "Returning home one day from an excursion on the Menam, my attention 
 was attracted by observing a Chinese, all alone, stirring up some embers within 
 the enclosures of a temple, with an instrument resembling a pitchfork. On 
 landing, we found that he was completing the funeral rites of some relative. 
 He was stirring the fire to complete the destruction of some of the larger 
 bones, and was either cheering or consoling himself vnth a, song I"— Cra%- 
 ford's Embassy, p. 460. 
 
CHAP, m.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 65 
 
 And (gaunt in the midst) the streaming light 
 Sleeps, hushed on a giant Fane ! 
 
 No late-built, gay, and glittering shrine,* 
 
 Like those the Boudhist holds divine ; 
 
 But simple — ^lone — gray — ^vast — and hoar, 
 
 All darkly eloquent of Eld ! 
 The farthest years of untold yore 
 
 That temple had beheld. 
 Sadly and desolately now, 
 It rais'd to Heaven its gloomy brow ; 
 Its altars silent and nntrod, — 
 The faith has left the Brahmin's God.t 
 
 There while the brothers gazing stood, 
 
 Their youthful blood grew chill, 
 Appalled beneath the Solitude, 
 
 The Sternness and the Still ! ' 
 
 Tney nave gain'd tne sacred bound, 
 They have pass'd its broken wall ; 
 And they quail as they walk, when they hear the sound 
 Of their steps in the temple fall ! 
 
 They stand in a desolate place, 
 
 Their roof the starr'd and breathless Space ! 
 
 An altar at their feet, o'erthrown ! 
 On the gray walls around, half-razed, 
 Strange shapes and mystic rhymes are traced, 
 Typing a past world's fate. 
 
 * The massy and antique solemnity of the Hindoo temple, compared with 
 those devoted to the Boudhist religion, covered as the latter are with gilding 
 and grotesque ornaments made of the most gaudy and least durable materials, 
 never fails to strike every traveller in the countries where the two religions are 
 found together. 
 
 t " They (the Hindoo temples) were dreary and comfortless places, and there 
 was no mistaking the religion which had the countenance and protection of the 
 state."— Crai{/brd's Embassy, p. 119. 
 
S6 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK X. 
 
 And still, as if himself had grown 
 Its like — upon a couch of stone 
 Majestic — shadowy — and alone 
 The dark Magician sate ! 
 The white rays hush'd around him shining— 
 His broad brow knit and down declining ; 
 Fix'd on the wan Earth's mystic breast 
 His eyes — intent but dreaming — rest ; 
 His mute form bending musingly, 
 And his hands clasp'd upon his knee. 
 Calmness sat round him like a robe, 
 
 The calmness of the cro^vned Dead, 
 The calmness of the solemn globe 
 "^^ When Night makes Silence dread. 
 The calmness of some God reclin'd 
 
 On high — and brooding o'er Earth's doom, 
 Or of some cloud ere yet the wind 
 
 Hath voiced the breathless gloom. 
 The errand they tell, and the boon they crave. 
 > It is done ! — with a glassy eye 
 The Sorcerer look'd on the Twins, and gave, 
 
 In a chanting tone, reply. 
 
 " Ten years ago, and the Boon of Light 
 
 " Was oped at the page that is bared to-night, 
 
 "And" the Moon had buried her mother old, 
 
 " And the Dragon was up from his mountain-hold, 
 
 " And the Spirits who feast on a mortal's wo 
 
 " Were walking the wide earth to and fro. 
 
 " My blood was young, and my heart was bold, 
 
 " And I burn'd for the spell of the conquer'd tomb 
 " And I sat by the grave they had dug that day, 
 " For a woman whose spirit had passed away 
 " When the babe was in her womb.* 
 
 *" The 'belief in the agency of evil spirits is universal ; and though dis- 
 claimed by the religion of Budha, they are more frequently worshipp^ than 
 the latter. Nor will the darkest periods of German necromancy and pretended 
 
CHAP, m.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 57 
 
 " And the grave was bared — and the rite prepared, 
 
 " And the dark rhyme slowly said, 
 " And with shriek and shout, the demon rout 
 
 " Came round the unburied dead. 
 " Yea ! round and romid, with their giant wings, 
 
 " The monster Bird, and the dragon Snake, 
 " And the Evil Race from the Ebon springs 
 
 " Of the Genii's waveless Lake ! 
 " Yea, round and round, with their stony glare, 
 
 " And their gnashing teeth, and their ghastly yell ! 
 " And limb by limb, they had torn me there, 
 
 " Had I miss'd one word of the wizard spell. 
 " But I mastered the fiends with a fearless breast, 
 " And I tore the babe from its darksome rest, 
 " And I severed the hands, and the feet, and the head, 
 " And I looked around — and the fiends were fled — 
 " And I was alone with the mangled dead ! 
 
 " And never from her hall of light 
 
 " The moon's hushed glory seem'd so bright 
 
 " As then ! — the gale its pride had bow'd — 
 " The tree — the herb — the flower— below ; 
 
 " And the white star and pausing cloud 
 " Above me ; — seemed to hail, and know 
 
 " The new-made Monarch, whom the Hour, 
 
 divination be found to exceed, in point of the incredible and horrible, what is 
 to be observed among the Siamese of the present day. It is usual to inter 
 women that have died pregnant ; the popular belief is, that the necromancers 
 have the power of performing the most extraordinary things, when possessed 
 of the infant which had been thus interred in the womb of the mother : it is 
 customary to watch the grave of such persons, in order to prevent the infant 
 being carried off. The Siamese tell the tale of horror in the most solemn 
 manner. All the hobgoblins, wild and ferocious animals, all the infernal 
 spirits, are said to oppose the unhallowed deed ; the perpetrator, well charged 
 with cabalistic term^; which he must recite in a certain fixed order, and with 
 nerves well braced to the daring task, proceeds to the grave, which he lays 
 open. In proportion as he advances in his work, the opposing spirits become 
 more daring ; he cuts off the head, hands, and feet of the infant, with which 
 he returns home. A body of clay is adapted to these, and this new compound 
 is placed in a sort of temple ; the matter is now accomplished, the possessor 
 has become master of the past, present, and future."— JPirtZaj/«o?i's Mission to 
 Siam and Cochin China, p. 339. 
 
8 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK I. 
 
 " And the dark daring of the deed 
 " And the Art minioned to the meed, 
 
 " Had diadem'd with power ! 
 " And the lovely Earth is bared to me 
 
 " With the wealth of its cofFer'd dower ; — 
 " The death, and the life in every tree ; — 
 
 " And the spirit in every flower ; — 
 " From Clime to Clime unseen I glide 
 
 " On the car of my swift desire, 
 " I rule the steeds of the rushing Tide, 
 
 " And the heart of the restless Fire. 
 " I watch o'er the Past in its mighty sleep, 
 
 " I walk in its Chambers dark, 
 " And over the Future's shoreless deep 
 
 " I sail in my prophet-bark. 
 " But I pine from my wisdom's desolate throne, 
 
 " And my sceptre charms me not ; 
 " And I fly in thought, as I sit alone, 
 
 " To my father's tranquil Cot. 
 " And why, O dupes of the burning dream, 
 
 " For a boon that deceiveth, roam ? 
 " Will the Sun on a stranger's dwelling beam 
 
 " More bright than it shines on home t 
 " But I read your brow — and I read your heart, 
 
 " And I know the seal is set ; 
 " And that spell is above a Magian's art, 
 
 " That can hold man from Regret." 
 
 The sorcerer rose, and led the way 
 
 Thro' a rent in the deep wall's massive base. 
 And they stood in a cell where the peering ray 
 
 Crept faint from above thro' the dismal space ; 
 Serving just to shadow dimly, 
 
 Their outlines from the denser gloom. 
 Like the half-worn images sculptured grimly 
 
 On the walls in the outer room. 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS, 59 
 
 Suddenly forth to the roof, the light 
 
 Burst, of a mighty flame ! 
 It shot from the earth to that lofty height — 
 Like a burning town on a northern night, 
 And it trampled the gloom with an Angel's might— 
 And it died as it came ! 
 
 But behold on the spot where it falleth, 
 
 A meteor hath risen, and slowly crawleth, — 
 
 The child of the fire-fiend creeping 
 
 Along ; — till at length with an impish mirth 
 To and fro see it fitfully leaping. 
 As it courses the jagged earth ! 
 Then they marked that the seer had his raiment thrown 
 On the ground ; and a narrow and knotted zone. 
 Star-studded, was bound on his loins alone ! 
 
 They stand within the flame, that curl'd, 
 
 Not in the northern wizard's ring, 
 
 But oval-like ; and imaging 
 A mystery in the Antique world. 
 
 And the sorcerer on their heads hath lain 
 
 One hand, the other raised on high ! 
 " Worms on life's lotos leaf — whate'er 
 
 " Of dread or menace meet the eye 
 " Or thrill the appalled ear — ^beware 
 
 " Of any sound — of any cry 
 " Beyond the ebb of breath ! 
 
 " This fiery wall is life's domain, 
 " Transgressed one inch is death ! 
 
 " For the fiends are without, and I hear them now, 
 " And I feel their breath on my dampening brow. 
 " If a single drop from the brimmed spell 
 " Run o'er, ye are doomed to the wrath of hell. 
 
6d THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK I. 
 
 " And a death by the gripe of the demon's fangs, 
 " Will but herald the soul to Tapana's* pangs I" 
 
 Now the fire is calmly burning, 
 
 And the orgy hath begun, 
 And along the red girth going, 
 From an iron vessel throwing 
 In the flame the appomied things 
 Of that black and fearful learning ; 
 
 Thus the Magian with each one 
 Slowly sings. 
 " Seizers of the wretch who wars 
 " With the sovereign of the* Stars, 
 " Ye, whom my victory taught to fear me, 
 " Still and bright Grahana,^ hear me ! 
 
 " And ye who sweep thro' the air and the deep, 
 
 " And rise on the Fire God's wings, 
 " Or, couched in the gloom of the momitain's womb, 
 
 " Hold court with the Metal kings ; 
 " Ye mocking Elements— who laugh 
 
 " At a mortal's doom with a frantic mirth — 
 " And scatter our dust, when we die, like chaff 
 
 " O'er the heart of the griefless earth : 
 " Ye, whom my victory taught to fear me, 
 " Bhuta,J dread servants of Siva,!^ hear me ! 
 " Four-and- sixty bones are here, 
 " Blent and seethed in the bowl of Fear ; 
 
 * Tapana is one of the many Boudhese hells to which, among other crimi- 
 nals, the dabblers in unlauful arts are condemned. The reader will note, that 
 in the ensuing incantation, the sorcerer forsakes the Boudhist superstition, and 
 alludes only to the Hindoo. The Hindoo magicians, to whose order he appears 
 to belong, are of greater renown than the Boudhist. 
 
 t The planets : their name (Grahana) signifies the act of seizing, and they 
 are chiefly invoked by the Hindoo magicians in ceremonies denouncing evil 
 upon enemies. 
 
 t Bhuta; the Elements are considered by the Hindoos as demons— the 
 Atharvana Veda (one of their sacred books) is said to ejijoln their wowhip. 
 
 $ Siva, the God of Destruction. 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 61 
 
 " Four-and-sixty roots are mingled, 
 
 *' By the moon, at her moment of glory, singled, 
 
 *' By these, by the ashes, the draught, and the dust, 
 
 " Come hither — come hither, ye must — ye must ! 
 
 " Steep my tongue in the Fount of the Future Things, 
 
 " And shadow my soul with your rushing wings." 
 
 As he spoke, on his lip there gathered the foam, 
 And his voice, from a breath, to its height had clombe. 
 And the blood swelled forth in each corded vein, 
 And the drops oi his agony fell like rain. 
 
 But still as a calm on a lowering sea, 
 When the quiet is cradled appallingly, 
 The Twins knelt down in the midmost space, 
 And clung to each other in close embrace. 
 And the eyes of the one on the ground were bent, 
 And his breath but in gaspings came and went ; 
 But the high-wrought nerve of the sterner raised 
 His brow ; on the Magian he fix'dly gazed, 
 And the strength of desire sustained his dread, 
 — ^But the swarthy blood from his cheek had fled. 
 While he knelt and gazed — with a slimy crawl, 
 And a hissing breath round the fiery wall, 
 Caine the loathely things of the serpent race, 
 With a glassy eye on his haunted face. 
 And wherever he turned they came — they caine— 
 With their crests erect o'er the barrier flame ! 
 Some of the dwarfed and deadliest tribe. 
 Whence the poison the shafts of a chief imbibe ; 
 And others that vi^reathed in their volumed length, 
 Lapped the fate of their prey in their crushing strength. 
 But beyond, where the fire had failed to break 
 The shadows—- he heard the vulture shriek ; 
 And at length on its lead wing heavily 
 It flapped to a gray stone mouldering nigh, 
 And gloamed on the boy with its charnel eye, 
 
 D 
 
62 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK I* 
 
 But he would not stir, and he held his breath, 
 For he thought on the Magian's menaced death ; 
 And the full of the fit, or the fiend's control, 
 Seemed now to have rush'd on the Sorcerer's soul : 
 His mien was all changed from its human wont, 
 And the phrensy was stamped on his knotted front. 
 
 " Ye have come with your golden wings, 
 
 " Ye have come with your starry eyes, 
 "And I feel the Cloud of the dawning Things, 
 
 " Like the mists from an ocean rise ! 
 " Mortals ! who from the Magian's skill, 
 " Demand what Fate may yet fulfil, 
 " List — heed — and mark — for wrapp'd in gloom, 
 
 " The dim unbodied Shapes that wait 
 " In the vast Future's mighty Womb, 
 
 " The appointed hour of Fate. 
 
 " The Stream and the Bark shall glide 
 
 " With a happy Sun, and a quiet Tide ; 
 
 " But the Stream at length shall chafe at the Sail, 
 
 *' And its wave shall rise to an anger'd gale, 
 
 " And the Stream on the guiltless Bark shall war, 
 
 " And the Bark shall know dread on the fitful wave ; 
 " And the Stream shall look up to a single Star, 
 
 " And the Star shall endanger the Bark, but — save. 
 " And the Bark in a quiet Port shall rest, 
 " But the Stream shall roll on with a lonely breast. 
 " Lo ! lo ! where it enters the earth, and its way 
 " Is snatched like a dream from the face of the day. 
 " Not a glimpse from its course — not a voice from its 
 
 waves — 
 " Lo ! it sinks from my sight — in the depths of the 
 caves." 
 
 As he ceaseth, the fiery bound 
 Duller and dimmer fades. 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 63 
 
 And the Serpent shapes that hiss around 
 Grow huge in the deepening shades. 
 
 And failing and faint — those limbs but now 
 Scarce mortal in their power, 
 
 Like the bodies the laws of the Api* allow 
 But life for a stated hour. 
 
 As a corpse when the spirit is fled, 
 
 As a spear from a hand when the life is o*er, 
 The Sorcerer drooped his head, 
 
 And dropped on the darkening floor. 
 Then, by the last blue ray 
 
 Of the flame, while the Serpents creep 
 With a fainter hiss to the wall — away, 
 And curl to their broken sleep, — 
 Each brother beheld the other's face, 
 And shudderingly scanned it o'er ; 
 Such change had been wrought in that fearful place, 
 That he scarcely could note a single trace 
 Of the features he knew before ! 
 
 * The condemned. 
 
 END OF BOOK THE FMST. 
 
BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
INTRODUCTORY LINES TO BOOK THE SECONB,' 
 
 TO THE 
 
 RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LADY — - 
 
 BEFORE HER MARRIAGE. 
 
 Fair girl, whose very name to me 
 
 Recalls that earliest dream of love, 
 Now fixed into a memory 
 
 That points like spires above ; — 
 I love to think her name is thine, 
 
 Fair girl, and I at times can trace 
 A look like hers a moment shine 
 
 On thy yet lovelier face. 
 But Wealth and Power before thine eyes, 
 
 Their flowers— shall they too wither ? — strew ; 
 Thy lot hath all that worldlings prize, 
 
 And her lot never Imew. 
 Thou enterest on a stage, in sooth, 
 
 Which few so fair unscathed may tread, 
 And pardon, when it notes thy youth, 
 
 DeUght if dimm'd with dread. 
 
 How well — how well, when yet a boy, 
 I saw it rise — ^I can recall 
 
iS THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II. 
 
 An orb of glory and of joy, 
 
 Of which thyself but saw the fall. 
 What form wore love so lovelily ? 
 
 Hers was the Virgin-mother's air! 
 And in her brow — and calmest eye — 
 
 How brightly slept the angel there ! 
 She was a thing, like thee, that seemed 
 
 Almost too glorious for desire ; 
 And all of which Romance had dreamed, 
 
 Tamed all that passion meant to fire. 
 Look round — and where the bright— the holy — 
 
 The Dawn star ? — fallen from its skies ! 
 xlnd apter vice and craftier Folly, 
 
 Where nobler Natures weep — despise. 
 And Fashion smiles upon the crime. 
 
 But frowns in wrath on the revealing; 
 And naught save Silence, Memory, Time, 
 
 Are hers, to whom a world was kneeling I 
 Ah ! doth the sin deserve the sting 
 
 To gorge all Malice with her shame I 
 And feel her glory grown a thing 
 
 That Fops affect a scorn to claim ? 
 And Thou, fair lady of my line, 
 
 Sweet Namesake of my heart's recorded. 
 Thou, too, art doom'd at least to shine 
 
 Where naught save Art can be rewarded. 
 In that false world to which thou 'rt chained. 
 
 Who sins not, is too tame to reign ; 
 And Custom in an hour hath gained. 
 
 What Vice for aye had stormed in vain. 
 And duller, colder sins shall mar 
 
 The gloss upon thy spirit's pinion ; 
 This sorcerer World but makes the star 
 
 It most invokes, the most its minion. 
 And all the pleasures which possess thee 
 But dim thy heart while they caress thee ;-— 
 
INTROD.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. * 
 
 And Truth will lose her virgin beauty ; — 
 
 And Art shall mould itself to Duty ; — 
 
 And all that Fashion bids thee follow 
 
 Leave Love foresworn and Friendship hollow. 
 
 I would not meet thee when some years 
 
 Have taught thy heart how folly sears, 
 
 And trifles now so tempting frittered 
 
 Away the youth they but imbittered ; 
 
 When all our fancies most adore, 
 
 Cling round that joyous form no more ; 
 
 When the still graces of the cheek 
 
 Forget the soul's soft tale to speak. 
 
 Nor would we seek to learn that tale, 
 
 Nor court the coy thought from its veil, 
 
 As one who with a charmed soul 
 
 Hath lurked within some faery knoll. 
 
 And borne to grosser earth again. 
 
 The memory of the bright domain — - 
 
 As he — if wise— would ask no more 
 
 That land — too lovely — to explore. 
 
 Lest, as we read in faery story, 
 
 The realm should wither from its glory. 
 
 And all nurs'd now in worship — fleet. 
 
 And prove delight was but deceit. 
 
 So would 1 throne my soul's romance. 
 
 Above the reach of Time and Chance, 
 
 So — as a new-blest lover keepeth 
 
 Sweet watch the wliile the lov'd one sleepeth ;- 
 
 So watch' d — so unawaked should be. 
 
 The rare and lovely dream of thee. 
 
 So cling my haunted thoughts unto it, 
 
 — But shun the madness to renew it. 
 
 But come — our robe aside we fling, 
 
 And quit the Sage's mimic seat. 
 Too glad in humbler guise to sing 
 
 No solemn measure at thy feet — 
 
 D3 
 
70 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II.| 
 
 Too glad if thou wilt deign to feel, 
 
 When softer chords are touch'd, tho' lightly ; 
 Or, if our livelier satire steal 
 
 A smile from one who smiles so brightly — > 
 Too glad if thou wilt not despise 
 
 A tale that boasts no charming ' Giaours^ 
 A strain that mingles smiles with sighs, 
 
 Nor always smothers sense with flowers — 
 Too glad if thou but gently blame 
 
 The simple string that ties our posies, 
 Tho' violets take their wonted name, 
 
 And rouge is banished from our roses — 
 Too glad if thou the faults forgive, 
 
 Which harsher eyes will judge severely ; 
 And if within thy memory live 
 
 One line of His — who lov^ thee dearly ! 
 
BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
 ^^ ^ CHAPTER I. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 The admirable discretion of the author — Policy of conceit — The brothers arrive 
 in England — Hodges's announcement of that event in the " Morning Post" — 
 The Twins exhibited — The i?ensation they create — Sir Astley Cooper's friendly 
 proposal — Divers others— Fashion, her orijjin — Chang finds time for his 
 studies — The effect they ha e on him — Kodges's honesty — Scene between 
 Chang and Ching — Their resolve — Descrijitioii of Mary — Chang's soliloquy. 
 
BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Among the thousand virtues which 
 
 Are only found in my possession, 
 I think I 'm singularly rich 
 
 In that — the best of all — ^Discretion. 
 Not less in letters than in action, 
 
 I know the golden mean to keep, 
 What scene to dwell on, or what fact shun, 
 
 And where to gallop or to creep. 
 This truth I blush not to repeat, 
 'T is policy to have conceit.-— 
 Assurance too (in Greek* you '11 see it), is 
 Confess'd " the greatest of the deities." 
 
 The Twins, 't is needless then to say, 
 Made with the Seer no idle stay. 
 I leave you to conceive their walk 
 
 To Bancok on the following day ; 
 And will not bore you with their talk, 
 
 Or meditations, by the way. 
 
 Moreover, since it is decreed. 
 
 Our brothers are for Britain bound, 
 
 * '"Si lUY^Wv T'^v 6e(ov vvv over 'Avat(5££«.— MENAN. 
 
74 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II. 
 
 I think you '11 own there is no need 
 To crawl by inches o'er the ground. 
 
 The parting — wishes- — prayers — ^hopes — fears, 
 
 Were all remarkably pathetic — 
 Poor Ching was quite dissolved in tears, 
 
 But Chang was ever an ascetic. 
 The clouds within him rarely grew 
 
 Into his eyes, becoming pluvious — 
 I skip a simile quite new, 
 
 About the snow around Vesuvius. 
 Because my Muse, although no syren, 
 Is honest, nor purloins from Byron ; 
 Nor any likeness, to be plain, knows 
 Between fine feelings and volcanoes. 
 The lady moon, the gentle stars. 
 The blue seas breaking into spars — 
 The stroll on deck when heaven is dark, 
 The sport of bobbing for a shark — 
 Prayers — sickness — storm — calm — land — starvation, 
 Great deep — grand thoughts — and British nation 
 Riding old Neptune like a charger. 
 While patriot hearts grow justly larger ; 
 Are not these things already shown 
 In Marryat's novel, " The ling's Own," 
 In Cooper, Byron, and in dingy 
 Volumes of voyages to Ingee ! 
 
 The sea part, then, I reckon over, 
 Just let you eat a steak at Dover, 
 And then, as town begins to fill, I 
 Land you at once in Piccadilly. 
 
 The third day after they had entered 
 London, of Nash and Cash the boast, 
 
 Hodges this paragraph adventured 
 (As herald) in " The Morning Post." 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 75 
 
 *' We hear the famous Mr. Hodges, 
 
 " Who wrote of Tactoo the description, 
 " Is just arrived in town, and lodges 
 
 " At present in the Hall Egyptian. 
 " With him two wondrous creatures he 
 
 " Has brought, we understand, from Siam, 
 " Which all the world will flock to see, 
 
 " And much the sight will edify 'em. 
 "Two boys that have together grown, 
 " Across the breast joined by a bone ; 
 " Of the facxilty, invited gratis, 
 " Each gentleman we beg to state is ; 
 " Already Messrs. Cooper, Brodie, Gee, 
 " Lawrence, and Vance have seen the prodigy-"— 
 " Declared it can be no deceit, 
 " And sworn the sight was quite a treat. 
 " This — notice towards them to divert is meant, 
 " See for particulars advertisement. 
 " N. B. In such a way they 're joined, 
 " As not to shock the most refined." 
 
 The public then were disengaged — 
 
 No Lyon in especial raged, 
 
 For Poetry there was no passion. 
 
 All Politics were out of fashion ; 
 
 The last new Novel, called " The Peerage," 
 
 Had fallen flat upon this queer age. 
 
 No Kings were going to Guildhall, 
 No Dukes were " trembling to their fall ;" 
 Both Charles and Charleys lived in peace, 
 No Philip there — here no Police. 
 Serenely thieved the nightly prigs. 
 And placeless walked the pensive Wliigs, 
 Time frowned not — and the disrtant storm 
 Slept dull on that dark sea — Reform. 
 
76 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II. 
 
 — In such a dearth of conversation, 
 Judge if our Twins caused some sensation. 
 From ten to five o'clock each day, 
 
 There thronged to see them such a bevy^ 
 Such cabs and chariots blocked the way. 
 
 The crowd was like a new King's levee. 
 Sir Astley bid high to secure them, 
 
 To cut up when the spring was o'er ; 
 He had, he begged leave to assure them, 
 
 Cut up " The Skeleton," before. 
 'T was much, they 'd see if they reflected. 
 To be with care and skill dissected ; 
 And if next year they would prefer — he 
 Was not at present in a hurry. 
 
 Old Crock much wanting then some new 
 
 Good speculation, tried to steal them : 
 While Lady ^the famous Blue — 
 
 Gravely requested leave to feel them.* 
 Pettigrew said he 'd keep a nice 
 
 Glass case on Saturdays exposed for them. 
 And Mrs. * * *, Avho 'd married thrice. 
 
 With great civility proposed for them. 
 But thanks to Hodges, all these perils 
 
 They 'scaped unhurt— foY thus the state 
 Of man is ever ! when we fear ills. 
 
 Heaven saves us from the menaced fate ; 
 Except the few not worth a better, a 
 Handful of hang'd, drown'd, burnt, et cetera. 
 
 Meanwhile with every day increases, 
 The fashion of the brother pair; 
 
 * Conversing once with a Blue of some celebrity, I had the mortification of 
 perceiving that she was all the while peculiarly restless and fidgety. At 
 length, she said witli considerable naiveU, "Excuse me, I must go and feel 
 that gentleman." Accordingly, with great gravity, she walked up to a hand- 
 some foreigner, and, avowing herself a disciple of Spurzheim, requested leave 
 to feel his head. I remember that the handsome foreigner was not a little 
 disconcerted, for he was a great beau and he wore a wig. 
 
CHAP. L] the SIAMESE TWINS. 77 
 
 Fashion, that haughty quean that fleeces 
 
 Her lovers with so high an air. 
 I think on earth that Jove did drop her, a 
 Danseuse from the Olympian opera ; — 
 Sent, first to glitter, and to gladden us ;— 
 Next, to attract, allure, and madden us ; 
 Thirdly, to ruin each beginner 
 In life, content with that — to win her ! 
 But when he 's bought the jade's caresses, 
 He finds the charm was — in the dresses ! 
 While Jove on high beholds, methinks, 
 
 The new-blest suitor's melancholy, 
 Applauds the cunning of the minx. 
 
 And chuckles, at the green-horn's folly. ^ 
 
 In every painter's shop one sees 
 Neat portraits of " The Siamese ;" 
 And every wandering Tuscan carries, 
 Their statues cast in clay of Paris. 
 Those statues sell in such a lot. 
 They play the deuse with Pitt and Scott ; 
 In vain aloft upon the board, 
 Indignant looks- the poet lord; 
 Unsold, Napoleon now may doze. 
 And out of joint's his conqueror's nose, 
 
 Money flocks in, with such profusion, 
 
 The doorkeepers are all confusion ; 
 
 " For breathes there one with soul so dead, 
 
 " Who never to himself hath said," 
 
 When fashion governs all the town, 
 
 " Oh, who 'd think twice of half-a-crown !" 
 
 Yet mid this whirl of pounds and pleasure 
 
 Chang found for reading ample leisure ; 
 
 Indeed, the day 's a sort of beast. 
 
 Of which the body is the least ; 
 
78 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II. 
 
 The head and tail let study seize — 
 And with the rest do what you please ! 
 
 But now, a new delicious source 
 Gushed on his mind's enlarging course : 
 The mingled and the mighty store 
 Of our land's language, and its lore ; 
 Our sturdy reasoners' vigorous themes, 
 Our golden poets, and their dreams ; 
 And His divine and wondrous page 
 Who walked Creation as his stage ; — 
 With these, his restless fancy blent. 
 
 The legends of less deep romance. 
 Where wisdom's bow is lightly bent. 
 
 And Truth 's the conquest of a glance. 
 Where, more than all, the dazzling kings 
 
 Of every climate rule the story, 
 Where love and fame unite their springs, 
 
 And Beauty yields herself to Glory. 
 
 Such studies scarce could feed his heart, 
 ■ Nor grow his thoughts' most cherished part. 
 And hence, perchance, he learned, for Fame, 
 And Love,' too bright a throne to frame, 
 And too repiningiy to chide 
 The fate wliich such to him denied. 
 
 And shall I — can I — say — too brightly 
 
 His fancy bodied forth his dream 
 Of woman— whom his land so lightly 
 
 Had taught his boyhood to esteem. 
 He clothed that image in whate'er 
 Romance had pictured as most fair. 
 And Thought with life the statue warmed, 
 And his soul worshipped what it formed : — 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 79 
 
 That image from the Cyprian's madness, 
 
 How worn soe'er in every strain, 
 Ne'er served to shadow forth a sadness, 
 
 A fantasy, more wild and vain. 
 All he had learn'd, in short, had fathered 
 
 All that 'twere well could he forget; 
 The fruit of knowledge had been gathered, 
 
 And its firs I taste to hini — regret ! 
 Tho' Hodges was nor wise nor merry. 
 Honest and true he was, and very ; 
 He kept the accounts with faith, — miwilling 
 To rob our brothers of a shilling — > 
 And now they really seemed preparing, 
 Shortly to grow as rich as Baring ; 
 When Fate, who meant them not for bankers, 
 Saved them from wealthy care and cankers — 
 Ere their gains took too large addition, she 
 Turned short and checked them at sufficiency. 
 
 One evening when the whole day long 
 Our Twins had entertained the throng, 
 
 Chang felt so poorly and oppress'd 
 (Of late his spirits had been low). 
 
 That, ere their Avonted hour of rest, 
 To bed he was obliged to go. 
 
 Poor Ching, who was, with shouts of laughter, 
 Playing at draughts with Hodges' daughter 
 (Of whom my muse a sketch prepares), 
 Was snatched away, and walked up stairs, 
 And (sleep the last thing in his head) 
 Coolly deposited in bed ; 
 But Chang was restless, nor could close 
 
 His eyes — a fretful fever burn'd him ; 
 And just as Ching began to doze, 
 
 Chang upside down abruptly turned him 3 
 
80 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK H. 
 
 Served thrice in such provoking fashion, 
 Ching bounced at last into a passion : 
 " Zounds ! Chang," he cried, " I do assure ye, 
 " Your starts would rouse a Bramin's fury ; 
 " Tho' you may think I 've not a nerve, I 
 
 " Must beg you to yourself will keep. 
 " No man can thus be topsy-turvy 
 
 " Turned, when he 's settling into sleep. 
 " You may be ill — I do n't deny it, 
 " But other folks, when ill, are quiet." 
 
 " Truly," said Chang, " 't is most fraternal 
 
 " To fall upon me in this way, 
 " I 'd like to know if this infernal 
 
 " Climate kill me — what you would say? 
 " I fear worse things to you might hap, 
 " Than posture changed, or broken nap. 
 " Perhaps you would not long survive — you 
 " Might then — well, well, may God forgive you !" 
 
 Softened by this appeal, poor Ching 
 Grasped Chang's hot hand, and whimpering 
 Answered — " Indeed, my dearest brother, 
 
 " It was a monstrous thing in me 
 " My selfish murmurings not to smother— 
 
 " But pray cheer up, and you will be 
 " As well as ever in the morning. 
 " Meanwhile I promise to take warfiing 
 ' From all my past infirmities ; 
 " And, if it give you any ease, 
 " Pray kick as stoutly as you please." 
 
 Here then a little scene ensued,- — 
 For ever, where there lurks affection. 
 
 No love like that which follows feud, 
 And bears with kind remorse connexion. 
 
CHAP. L] the SIAMESE TWINS. 81 
 
 And when 't was over, and a brief 
 Silence had given to each relief, 
 Chang cleared his throat and thus confided 
 To Ching the scheme for which he sigh did; 
 
 " I 'm sure, dear Ching, you feel like me, 
 
 " How hard a thing it is to be 
 
 " Teased, worried, questioned, pulled about, 
 
 " Stared at and quizzed by every lout, 
 
 " And give a right to all the town 
 
 " To laugh at us for half-a-crown 
 
 " Hodges of course can feel no shock ;— ^it 
 
 " Is fun for him to fill his pocket : 
 
 " And, still so long as he can fill it, he 
 
 " Heeds not our wounded sensibility. 
 
 " I grant, my Ching, that for a while, 
 " This pack-horse state we might abide* 
 
 " And Wealth's soft hope might reconcile 
 " To every gall the skin of pride. 
 
 " Whispering * from out these very stings 
 
 " * Your future independence springs.' 
 
 But, now wealth 's won ! there but remaina 
 " To enjoy betimes our hard-earned gains. 
 " Slight is the forfeit, to forego 
 " The honours of the rareeshow. 
 " And sure of all our wants require, 
 " Renounce the monster, and retire !" 
 
 " Upon my word," said Ching, " 't is strange 
 
 " It ne'er occurred to me, this change ; 
 
 " But, now you mention it, I see a 
 
 " World to admire in your idea ; 
 
 " To-morrow, 'gad, we '11 make them all dumb 
 
 " By cutting this confounded thraldom. 
 
 ** We '11 claim old Hodges's account, 
 
 " Keep house upon our share's amount : 
 
83 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK 11. 
 
 " Go here, go there, consult our ease, 
 
 " And do exactly what we please ; 
 
 " Indulge in draughts, minced veal, and whiskey, 
 
 " And — split my wig — but we '11 be frisky !" 
 
 " What deep," continued Chang, " what still 
 
 " Delight, this great world to survey ; 
 " To rove its thousand paths at will, 
 " And find a truth in every way ! 
 *' To trace the springs by which are bow'd, 
 " Or rais'd, in turn, the obedient crowd, 
 " As shifts the custom midst them thrown, 
 " Without one impulse of their own. 
 " To view the mighty map of man 
 
 " Before the kindling gaze unfurled ; 
 " And, line by line, to track the plan — " 
 
 " In short," cried Ching, " to see the world I" 
 
 Thus talk'd the Twins, until the dew 
 
 Of life, sweet slumber, o'er them grew ; 
 
 When lo ! a light beneath the door- — 
 
 And hark ! a footstep on the floor — 
 
 And softly towards the brothers' bed, 
 
 With shaded lamp, and hushing tread, 
 A charming vision stole ; — its form 
 Was light, yet lovely as a fairy ; 
 But human beauty, rich and warm. 
 Hung o'er the cheek its glowing charm — 
 'T is their host's daughter — Mary ! 
 
 How holy woman's youth — ^while yet 
 Its rose with life's first dews is wet — 
 While hope most pure is least confess'd, 
 And all the Virgin in the breast ! 
 O'er her white brow, wherein the blue 
 Transparent vein seemed proud to bear 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. Sd 
 
 The warm thoughts of her heart — unto 
 
 The soul so nobly palaced there ! 
 O'er her white brow were richly braided 
 
 The tresses in a golden flow ; 
 But darkly slept the lash that shaded 
 
 Her deep eye, on its lids of snow. 
 What could that magic eye inspire ? 
 Its very light was a desire ; 
 And each blue wandering of its beam. 
 Called forth a worship and a dream ; 
 The soft rose on her softest cheek 
 
 Had yet the sun's last smile to win : 
 But not the less eaeh blush could speak 
 
 How full the sweetness hived within. 
 The rich lip in its bright repose 
 Refused above its wealth to close, 
 And mid the coral and the dew. 
 The pearls all freshly glistened thro', 
 And round that lip, in dimpled cell. 
 The smiles that wreathe enchantment dwell— 
 Waked by a word — and yet revealing 
 A witness less of Mirth than Feeling — 
 Rounded her glorious shape : — tho' mute 
 Died Echo round her fairy foot, 
 Tho' small as childhood's was the band 
 
 That lightly clasp'd her graceful vest. 
 And though so slight her tempting hand, 
 
 You hid it while you press'd. 
 Yet formed the hills her robe controll'd 
 In Love's most ripe luxuriant mould. 
 Not in more swelling whiteness sails 
 Cayster's swan to western gales,* ' • 
 
 ' * The reader will remember the passage in the Hymn attributed to Anacreon— 
 
 "At£ tis KrjKvoiKavapy 
 IloXtoij iTT£po2ai //Attwv 
 'At5£/ioi) crvvavXov hx^v- 
 
 Md also perhaps a passage in Nazianzen (Orat. 34), for which I myself am 
 
84 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IL* 
 
 When the melodious murmur sings 
 Mid her slow-heav'd voluptuous wings. 
 And never on a breast more formed 
 
 For lofty dreams — yet low devotion — 
 More tender, or more truly warmed 
 
 With all which lights — yet guides — emotion ; 
 More fitted in the evil day 
 To be Man's solace and his stay ; 
 Never on breast more rich in aught 
 That comforts grief — but heightens thought — 
 Did lover rest, and feel the earth 
 Had faded round him into dearth — 
 That Fate was baffled ; and that Change 
 Had lost the wish — the power to range ; 
 And all the world — its hopes — its charms — 
 Its Future — shrunk within his arms ! 
 O Woman ! day-star of our doom — 
 Thy dawn our birth — thy close our tomb, 
 Or if the Mother or the Bride, 
 Our fondest friend and surest guide ; 
 And yet our folly and our fever, 
 The Dream — the Meteor — the Deceiver — 
 Still, spite of sorrow — wisdom — years — 
 And those — Fate's sternest warners — -tears — 
 Still clings my yearning lieart unto thee. 
 Still knows no wish like those which woo thee, 
 Still in some living form essays 
 To clasp the bright cloud it portrays ',- — 
 And still as one Avho waits beside, 
 But mav not ford, the faitliless tide — 
 
 indebted to Mr. Jodrell, in his Illustrations of the Ion of Euripides, and wbicli 
 I transcribe from that work. 
 
 Ttf h KVKvo} cvvv<paiv(x)V t^v o)6i)v otuv CK-neTaar] to TTTeodv Tois avpais Koi 
 TTOirj jxeXog to cvpiyfia- 
 
 It was an ancient notion, that the music of the swan was produced by its 
 wings, and inspired by the zephyr. See this subject tr^^ated with his accus- 
 tomed erudition by Mr. Jodrell, in the above-mentioned Illustrations. 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 
 
 It wears its own brief life away 
 
 It marks the shining waters stray-- 
 Courts every changethat glads the river— 
 And finds that change it pines for—never! 
 
 New string the lute, as from my soul 
 The feelings life should banish, fail, 
 
 And sobering from fond Thought's control. 
 My verse glides onward with my tale. 
 
 I Above their heads she heM the lamp. 
 
 And still the light which there it threw, 
 On Chang's dark brow the feverish damp 
 
 Was slowly gathering ; and the hue 
 Upon his cheek flush'd rich and brightly, 
 And his clos'd lips just quivered slightly. 
 
 But Ching sleeps sound and calm as, death ; 
 
 You scarcely catch his even breath : 
 
 Still lie the tides within, nor seem 
 As wrinkled by the faintest dream ; 
 And o'er his cheek one soft smile keeps 
 
 Its silent home, nor varies ever; 
 All like some tender star, that sleeps 
 
 Upon the hush'd lap of the river. 
 
 And half inclined to each — (to thee, 
 
 Sweet Julia, would I thus had grown !) ' 
 Round either neck, it touch'd to see. 
 
 The other's arm wias thrown ; 
 But still the hand of one was clos'd. 
 
 Like his, whom pain and anger gall 5 
 And still the other's hand repos'd. 
 
 Like one who sleeps at peace with all. 
 
 The maiden look'd, and kindly drew 
 The curtain round the feverish brother • 
 E 
 
 85 
 
86 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II. 
 
 And wiped from off his brows the dew. 
 — Just then, as if some dream or other 
 Had stung the troubled soul — he started, 
 And some wild word his pale lipsP parted. 
 The maid drew back ; the fit was o'er, 
 He lay more tranquil than before. • 
 She placed within his reach the mild ^ 
 
 Cool drink that fever best relieved, 
 Gave one look more, and gently smiled. 
 
 Well pleased to think that she perceived 
 The poor youth's slumbers were already 
 Becoming more serene and steady. . 
 Without the door her footsteps die. 
 When from the breast of Chang a sigh 
 Brqrke fiercely and impatiently. 
 
 It was a fair and summer night. 
 
 The moon had clombe her weary height : 
 
 Like him who scales the mountain's brow. 
 
 And slowly eyes the scene below, 
 
 As every spot he pass'd — delays. 
 
 And charms the languor from, his gaze, 
 
 She seem'd on high to pause and breathe 
 
 Her silence o'er the world beneath ; 
 
 Watching as with an angel's pity 
 
 The dark rest of the giant City, 
 
 That death-like lay within its shroud. 
 
 As quiet as the heart of Sorrow ; — 
 Or like a hush'd, unmoving cloud, • 
 
 Whose sleep will wake in storm to-morrow. 
 Pale through the half-clos'd window strays 
 The meek smile of the wandering rays 
 Along the floor it checkering gleameth, 
 And o'er the Indian brothers streameth. 
 As by that light so wan and chill. 
 
 Hit cheek — ^the sterner one's — ^you saw ; 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 87 
 
 Its hue and aspect well might thrill 
 Your bosom with a startled awe. 
 
 " Out, out — " he muttei-ed, " on this curs'd, 
 
 " This loathly and unnatural tie ! 
 " Oh ! would that it one hour were burst, 
 
 " Though with the next hour doom'd to die 'i 
 " Am I not cut oif from the joys, 
 
 " The proud life of the glorious earth ? 
 " Who comes to eye the monster boys, 
 
 " Nor feels his wonder brand our birth ? 
 *' But, he can sleep, and sport, and laugh ; 
 " I, / alone this base cup quaff. 
 
 " O Light ! sweet daughter of the Sun, 
 " When thou didst first behold me born, 
 
 " Say, did these eyes thy glory shun, 
 " And feel thine eyes were s corn ? 
 
 " Why was I fated to inherit 
 
 " This vast desire, this mounting spirit ? 
 
 *' Why doom'd to burn for knowledge, power, 
 
 " Fame ; and whatever our mortal dower 
 
 *' Upon the lap of life bestows — 
 
 " Poor balance for our mortal woes ! 
 
 ** Why doom'd to bear within my breast 
 
 " A godlike, but self-scorching fire ; 
 " Thoughts, that like young birds in their nest. 
 
 " Deserted, and unfledged, expire ; 
 " Yearning, nay struggling, for the skies, 
 " Which made their real destinies ? 
 
 " And love, fair love ! each other thing, 
 " To which, like me, contempt may cling, 
 " Still hath the blessing of its kind, 
 " Still its connubial rite may find. 
 " Earth, air, sea — ^yea, the leaves that fall, 
 * The smallest drop that swells the tide, 
 E2 
 
88 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II. 
 
 " Can grant its living myriads all 
 " That is to me denied ! 
 
 " Am I not formed as others ? Are 
 
 " The sense, sight, ound — delight and fire 
 " Of beauty bann'd me — can I bar 
 
 " From my quick heart the keen desire, 
 " That vague, wild, circling as the air, 
 " Blends with each single impulse there ? 
 " And thou, oh, thou ! at whose least look 
 
 " My heart leaps up, as at the voice 
 " Of the west wdnd— the enamoured brook 
 
 " Leaps up to revel and rejoice : 
 " Beneath thy touch, how can I thrill, 
 " Yet bid my boimding veins be still ? — 
 " And when thou smilest on another, 
 " How can my soul its fury smother — 
 " Ev'n though that smile be on my brother !" 
 
 Here broke his thoughts into a dark, 
 
 And wild, and warring tide ; 
 And silently he stoop'd, to mark 
 
 The sleeper by his side. 
 At first his look was dread and stern, 
 As if to hate all love could turn. 
 And terrible it was to see 
 
 The contrast of the pair ; 
 The smile, and the tranquillity — 
 
 The wrung brow, the despair. 
 
 But o'er the waker's features slowly. 
 
 And shade by shade, a soft change stole, 
 As memories dear, and fond and holy, 
 
 Broke forth like moonbeams on his soul : 
 As moonbeams when they gradual fall 
 
 Some dim and lonely churchyard o'er 
 And make but soft and sacred all 
 
 That roused the wanderer's awe before. 
 
BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Preliminary notice, of great importance to the interest both of author and 
 reader — The brothers retired from public life— The parentage, circumstances, 
 and character of Julian Laneham — News from Bancok, its effect upon the 
 Twins — Chang and Ching brought out into "Good Society;" their extra- 
 ordinary ton — Singularity of any persons, not royal, being much sought 
 after in England — Tom Moore's jealousy of Ching, and Chang's likeness to 
 Lord Byron — Holland House, &c. &c. — Ching's admiration of the EngUsh 
 ladies ; names of some of them — Rebuke to the Muse — Lady Jersey sends 
 Chang a ticket for Almack's; confusion occasioned thereby; adjusted by 
 Lady Cowper — Almack's — Ching waltzes with Lady Frances — A Maid of 
 Honour — Lady Connor's great Mndness to Ching — Chang's argument with 
 
 Prince C i — ^Proposal to subimt the controversy to Mr. Hallam — Ching's 
 
 abrupt and involuntary disappearance from Almack's— The brothers received 
 at court — Theu* different politics — The convenience politicians find in having 
 a junction-bone — Ching dances before the Queen — Ching believes Lady 
 Frances in love with him, takes compassion upon her — His gallant project 
 to scale her window — Foreigners too well received by our countrywomen — 
 Caution to the latter — A Blue Party — Apostrophe to the Great Authors of 
 the day — A wit described — The wit's address to Chang — Chang's anger— 
 The brothers depart to execute Ching's amorous exploit. 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 91 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I HEREBY give due information 
 
 (And shall proceed by law to show it) 
 Of a most infamous invasion 
 Upon my patent as a poet. 
 With wonder and resentment, I am 
 
 Informed that you have been to see a 
 Pretended brace of boys from Siam, 
 
 Who 've basely stolen my idea. 
 I do declare, I Ve no connexion 
 With any other — ^curiosities I 
 And hope the public, on reflection, 
 
 Won't see me wrong'd by such atrocities. 
 I 'm sure my Customers must waken 
 
 From a deceit so blind and silly, 
 Not let my Twins for those be taken 
 
 So lately shown in Piccadilly. 
 Reader, I must implore that you shun 
 
 Confounding one for t'other, or I 
 Declare, so serious a confusion 
 
 Will spoil your interest and my story. 
 Know, that henceforth, thro' this narration, 
 
 I '11 paint my Twins — the really curious — 
 Not in one single situation 
 
 In which you could have seen the spurious. 
 I hope that without further clatter, 
 
 The impostors will retreat — and early— ^ 
 Or else I shall resign the matter 
 Into the hands of Lake and Burley. 
 
92 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK II. 
 
 Behold, our brethren now retired, 
 
 No longer to be seen for money ; 
 They spent their hours as they desired, 
 
 And lived no more for fame but fun : I 
 Must own when novelty was o'er. 
 That fun itself began to bore. 
 
 Hodges and Mary with them dwelt— 
 
 Ching was the person to propose it, 
 Altho' at first his brother felt — 
 
 Or feigned — a slight desire t' oppose it, 
 Their guest most frequent was a cousin 
 
 Of our friend Hodges— Julian Laneham ; 
 He called upon the Twins a dozen 
 
 Times in a week — to entertain^em. 
 We '11 pause a moment in our way — 
 This cousin merits a survey. 
 
 Left, yet a boy, an orphan, — wide 
 
 The estate bequeathed him by his sire — 
 
 That fine large common-ground, supplied 
 
 With vagrants to one's heart's desire. 
 And call'd " The Public," in the schools 
 
 Of rogues — a double meaning clothing-^. 
 But I believe your honest fools 
 
 More generally call it — " Nothing." . 
 
 In short, his father had possess'd 
 
 A very liberal turn of mind ; — 
 No man was better fed and dress'd — 
 
 No habits could be more refin'd, — 
 No bard had more contempt for Cocker, 
 — Or more grim faces at his knocker. 
 
 The first five years, the estate transmitted 
 To him from thirty squire archs, flitted. 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 93 
 
 NHmporte I — when ten years more had fled, it 
 Grew serious — Debt had murthered Credit. 
 He bore the matter well, and placid, 
 Retired from life on prussic acid ; 
 Left Christian patience to the Cits, 
 And to his son he left — his wits ! 
 And Julian was extremely clever. 
 
 But not exactly in that way 
 By which your D 's live for ever, 
 
 And leave — not have — ^the devil to pay. . 
 
 Two maiden aunts, who thought him pretty, 
 Bestowed upon him more than pity : 
 Sent him to school, and thence to college. 
 And wing'd Ability with Knowledge. 
 
 Large was his mind, and clear — yet deep ; 
 
 A little pensive, but not whining : 
 Ambition, courage, hope can keep 
 
 All stuff, worth keeping, from repining. 
 Wisdom, which now folks really seem 
 
 To think is pick'd up like a fashion, 
 Became to him a goal — a dream— 
 
 A faith — a glory — -and a passion. 
 And so at length — for time and toil 
 Wring harvests from the sternest soil ; 
 At length, the wealth within him stored 
 Swelled slowly to no common hoard ; 
 And Fellows, to Professors turning. 
 Talked of young Laneham's " real learning." 
 
 No German and no poet loved 
 
 Nature's minutest mysteries more 
 Than he ; — they moulded and they moved 
 
 His heart as viewless springs ; — the lore 
 Of harsher thought they raised and warmed^ 
 
 E3 
 
94 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II. 
 
 And from each dream the self they bore 
 That young Ambition formed. 
 
 But Nature's ahar is within, 
 
 The Priest that serves it is the Feeling, 
 Secret her worship — nor would win 
 
 A single tribute unconcealing ; 
 She asks few hours, but holy ; giving 
 The rest of life, in short, to living. 
 
 So Julian played not the romantics. 
 Too lofty for such sombre antics ; 
 Mostly, indeed, he lived alone. 
 
 And shunn'd the customs of the crowd. 
 For Knowledge had his palace grown? 
 
 And he was poor and proud. 
 
 But when he mixed with men he wore 
 The aspect and the mood they bore. 
 And his strong sense and vigorous mind 
 Led — but by joining with — mankind. 
 The deeper and the shrewder saw 
 
 In him those qualities that guide 
 To Fame, in spite of Fortune's Law. 
 
 For his worst fault, his very pride. 
 Had in it something stern and hard ; 
 
 That stubborn, unbowed, conquering spirit 
 That clasps, or climbs to, its reward, 
 
 And masters- all that it may merit. 
 
 In short, 't was generally agreed, 
 Julian was one who must succeed,- — 
 Although his genius was not indolent ; 
 
 Although his studies were not brown ; 
 Although he never at a window leant ; 
 
 And turned his collars nicely down.—- 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 95 
 
 Generous he was, and kind, and bold, 
 But calm his mien— his aspect cold ; 
 And the edg'd sharpness of his tongue 
 (When Folly roused or Malice stung), 
 Where the swift wit so brightly pi ay'd 
 It lit— it mocked — the wounds it made. 
 Stirr'd the half-conscious spleen of those 
 Who, bat-like, flit 'twixt friends and foes ; 
 Hunting suspicion thro' the dark, 
 And feeding on — " a kind remark." 
 If Hate to Talent spares the laurels. 
 It grubs within- — among its morals. 
 So those who owned his parts denied 
 The motive which the act supplied. 
 His life was guiltless — True ! but Art 
 Can hide, and Interest blunt — the heart. 
 He might be sure in life to rise ; 
 
 But there was something in his eyes ! 
 
 They did not mean to call him vicious. 
 But Wit was always, so malicious, 
 His head was good — that all might know — 
 A good heart never made a show. 
 
 Whether or not these hints were true, 
 
 I fear this tale can scarcely prove. 
 Which only broadly brings to view 
 
 His heart — in that one weakness — Love. 
 
 His Aunts departed life — their will 
 Left four black cats to Margaret Still, 
 With a most adequate annuity 
 
 In proper comfort to maintain 'em ; 
 And one cool thousand — a gratuity 
 
 To their dear nephew — Julian Laneham. 
 Expressing kindly all their grieving, 
 That more they 'd not the power of leaving. 
 
96 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II. 
 
 Upon this thousand he is Uving, 
 While we're this introduction giving. 
 Although accustomed to command some 
 Attention — Julian scarce was handsome.* 
 His cheek was delicate and fair, 
 But darkly waved his clustering hair 
 O^er his pale brow the mind had taught 
 Resolve to blend itself with Thought. 
 And — whether there Hate, Glory, break, 
 
 Or Love rise soft into revealing. 
 No human eye could brighter speak ; 
 
 Or warm your heart to share — the feeling* 
 
 Turn we from him : about this time 
 
 A merchant of the name of Hancock, 
 Returned from Siam to this clime. 
 
 With packets to the Twins from Bancok. 
 Since Fiam gambling had begun. 
 
 Improving in that ars divina ; 
 He 'd something really handsome won 
 
 Of a young rake from Cochin China. 
 With this — aware how changes cruel 
 
 For ever heel a Gambler's joys, 
 He bought — good man — a noble jewel. 
 
 And sent by Hancock to his boys. 
 Then, having thus his conscience eased, 
 
 And for his sons so well provided. 
 Unto the dogs, just as he pleased, 
 
 To go — he lib'rally decided. 
 
 However, on the second day 
 
 From that in which he had committed 
 
 * I find the two foliomng lines in that most agreeable and graceful poevC' 
 '' The Advice to Julia," sufficiently like those in the text to convict me— if un 
 quoted — of a plagiarism of which I wa§ unconscious. . » 
 
 " Julia — I own you may command some 
 " Attention— you are young and handsome."— P. 30 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 97 
 
 The gem to Mr. Hancock (and 
 Before the merchant left the strand), 
 They found him cold in bed ; away 
 
 Like Luck — the Gambler's soul had flitted* 
 Short arethe Bancok Gentry's necks — ^he 
 Had lost the game to Apoplexy. 
 
 So much her sorrow did subdue them, 
 His wife's relations took her to them. 
 Hancock had,, left her comfort scorning. 
 Dissolved in tears — and choosing mourning.. 
 
 I need not say — when they received 
 This news — ^the Twins were greatly grieved* 
 I scarcely know who bore it worst, 
 — But Ching was comforted the first. 
 
 Their gem when sold, and what it brought; 
 
 When added to their former store, 
 Made up so much, a sage had thought 
 
 No moderate man could wish for more ! 
 
 As if — ^but the reflection 's stale ! — 
 
 We ever could, with all our trying 
 To throw the salt upon its tail, — 
 
 Prevent that bird — a wish — -from flying. 
 
 Their purposed sojourn here to lengthen, 
 
 Of course this news but served to strengthen ; 
 
 And when among the world 't was known 
 
 That Chang and Ching so rich had grown — 
 
 (For with a rare exaggeration. 
 
 Their wealth received quadruplication — ) 
 
 And that from lucre's low negotium^ 
 
 They had retired to take their otium ; 
 
98 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK H. 
 
 Then that most courtly world, where trade is 
 Thrown out o' the window by the ladies, 
 Thought that themselves they 'd really bring, 
 To leave their cards on Chang and Ching. 
 
 First came the learned Misses Berry,* 
 
 Whose talk I hear is worth the listening ; ^ 
 
 And next the sparkling Londonderry,! 
 
 Called to invite them to a christening. 
 The fashion set — the vassals follow — 
 
 All ask — ^press — pray — for Chang and Ching ; 
 They beat three Polish princes hollow, 
 
 And half outshine a Carib King. 
 Sole instance here, this my muse hmts, is 
 
 Of folks much sought for — tho' not princes, 
 For here we 're so divinely loyal, 
 
 Nothing goes down that sounds not royal. * 
 
 Some foetid king from Hottentot, 
 
 Would be all day at the balconies ; 
 While — ^when in town — Sir Walter Scott 
 
 May dine in quiet with his cronies. 
 JPrince RaggedhofF comes o'er — all fall on him ! 
 Were Goethe here — pray who would call on him 1 
 
 Of Ching — that diamond of good fellows 
 Tom Moore begins to grow quite jealous ; 
 For Ching once made a happy hit. 
 
 And complimented Lady Frightful, 
 And so became the reigning wit. 
 
 Whom all such ladies call'd delightful. 
 
 [* Noted "Blues ;" one has written a book, called " A Comparative View of 
 the Social Life of England and France."] 
 [t Lady Londonderry, a very fine lady— a beauty, and a patroness at Al- 
 
 nosck's "1 
 
 X This peculiarity begins to distinguish us less. There is a little deprecia- 
 tion at present in the price of kings— but then, to be sure— it is in kings out of 
 power I * $ 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 99 
 
 Besides, on the piano-forte 
 
 Siamese ballads he could sing ; 
 And, oh! they were so sweet — so naughty — 
 
 You 'd scarce have known Tom Moore from Ching. 
 
 And really Chang, who sulking by 
 Sat with curled lip and drooping eye. 
 While, Moore-like, Ching performed the syren. 
 Made no bad sort of Bancok Byron. 
 
 As they professed opinions liberal, 
 
 And Chang was thought a youth of voZi, 
 They went where wordy Witlings gibber all 
 
 Ineptitudes — at Holland House. 
 There Allen,* all about the riches 
 
 Of Siam, with its manners — laws, 
 Pump'd out to pour into those speeches 
 
 Which gain his Lordship such applause. 
 Those speeches when the frost of fears 
 
 Melts — as Monseigneur swells from Madame — 
 And gushes out upon the Peers, 
 
 The History of the World since Adam ♦ 
 The Duke of Devonshire was very 
 
 , Civil — he 's really a good fellow! 
 And D , when he saw, grew merry, 
 
 Two faces than his own more yellow. 
 Lord Granville courteously desired. 
 
 They 'd join his coterie of whisters ; 
 And Esterhazy much inquired. 
 
 If they were sure they had no sisters, 
 Ching thought, the first ball he attended 
 
 (The married women seemed so pretty), 
 Some goddesses had condescended 
 
 T' improve the beauty of the city. 
 
 I* Librarian to Lord Holland,— a great writer in the Edinburgh.] 
 
100 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [boOK II. 
 
 He asked the names he should adore, 
 
 I find we worshipped them before ; 
 
 And in Ching's prayer-book you may spy 'em 
 
 Writ neatly down — New Nat* for Siam. 
 
 Here 's Lady Gower, a charming face 
 
 To heavenly visions to exhort one ; 
 And here, I think, we seem to trace 
 
 A future Boudhist Nat in Norton. 
 St. Maur — her mother beauty taught her — 
 And here — fair Lady Cowper's daughter. 
 
 Next — dash to earth the cup of praise. 
 Resume, proud Muse, thy sober satire, 
 
 Nor bow thy vow'd, unworldly lays, 
 To those whom every fool may flatter. 
 
 Leave " Ladies Fair !" to be the boast 
 
 Of guardsmen and the Morning Post ; 
 
 And, with thy free and faithful strain. 
 
 On— -my light satire — sweep again ! 
 
 Tho' liked the gay the jovial brother, 
 The pensive gave it for the other ; 
 And^Jersey, after whose own heart is 
 The grave, — asked Chang to all her parties, 
 But only begg'd he would not bring 
 His vulgar brother, Mr. Ching. 
 
 She sent him once a card for Willis's 
 That pretty pastoral spot, where Phillisses 
 And Damons dance extremely badly. 
 Where married dames coquet it sadly— 
 Where, this the law supreme and vital. 
 No sin comes here — without a title. 
 
 * Nat (as we have before said) are superior beings 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 101 
 
 Where, if a few slight faults, or frailties — 
 
 Unvirgin'd maids, and liberal wives. 
 Breaking dull wedlock's cold and stale ties,—^ 
 
 The pure Religio Loci shrives. 
 At least the low commercial rout 
 " The Ladies" piously shut out ; 
 And fierce to trade as any Goth's child. 
 Preserve the moral air from Rothschild. 
 
 But to our theme ;— at Almack's now, 
 
 When gravely Chang himself presented, 
 Much did the doormen wonder how 
 
 From entering Ching could be prevented- 
 Ingress 't was clear they must permit 
 
 To Chang, who had his voucher got — 
 As clear— they must not think of it 
 
 For Ching, who certainly had not. 
 
 " That way up stairs — no, sir, not you — 
 
 " I have a duty, sir, to do — 
 
 " No ticket, sir ?— I 'd rather hang 
 
 " Myself, than suifer such a thing ! * 
 
 " I do n't prevent yow. Mister Chang — 
 
 " I can't allow it, Mister Ching." 
 
 Grave Chang stood open-mouthed with stupoi\ 
 Gay Ching was choler all, and chatter, 
 
 When suddenly sweet Lady Cowper 
 Came by and reconciled the matter. 
 
 For Mirth have all the Lambs affection, 
 
 So she took Ching to her protection. 
 
 I 'm not surprised, I own (when I 
 Remember how each other tie 
 The laws of Ton contrive to sunder). 
 That Willis should be lost in wonder^ 
 
102 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II. 
 
 That flesh and blood should dare refuse, 
 
 For once to loosen their alliance, 
 And vulgar Mistress Nature choose 
 
 To set ev'n Almack's at defiance. 
 
 We Ve said in some one of our pages, 
 That Chang had lately conned our sages. 
 But most of all. the books commanding 
 His thoughts, was Locke on Understanding ; 
 That great name spoke hard by — ^he heard — 
 He turned—enraptured at the word. 
 
 And L k (the handsome Captain) took 
 
 For the young author of the book ; 
 Accordingly he straight address'd him, . 
 With compliments in thousands press'd him — 
 Swore that no man he so admired, 
 And humbly where he lived — inquired. 
 
 Quoth he, " The human mind is found, 
 " Having in all climes the same faults — " 
 
 He ceased — ^the Captain looldng round, 
 Saw him whirPd off into a waltz. 
 
 For Ching, who lik'd those giddy dances, 
 
 Was now engaged to Lady Frances ; 
 
 Sweet Lady — daughter to Lord Connor, 
 
 And fairest of the Maids of Honour. 
 
 Meanwhile the smiling Lady Mother 
 
 Steps up, and whispers in her ear, 
 
 I hope it is the elder brother. 
 
 And not " the Detrimental" — dear ! 
 
 Away we turn ; and tow'rds the space 
 Where tea and cakes the soul invite 
 
 Lo ! meet en masse the vagrant race 
 The swallows of a single night : 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 103 
 
 Young men, whose looks and feet contrive 
 
 To win one voucher to Almack's ; 
 While dear mamma and sisters drive 
 
 To Mistress 's or C— -'s. 
 
 Pale guardsmen struggling into ton. 
 
 Spruce witlings just brought out by Murray, 
 
 And squiresses whose squires are known 
 To have some votes in Kent or Surrey — 
 
 Stiff — staring — starched — about a score, 
 
 Like carvings, decorate the door. 
 
 Alas ! what anxious toil has won. 
 
 Perchance their fleeting triumph here ! 
 ' What bitter joy, when all was done. 
 
 And entrance granted with a sneer ! 
 But Pride its food from Pain shall borrow ; 
 
 And those to-night's neglect shall gall, 
 Will fly o'er half the town to-morrow. 
 
 To boast of Almack's charming ball. 
 
 The dance is o'er, and yonder see. 
 
 Encircled by a smiling ring, 
 Sweet Lady Frances sips her tea. 
 
 And flirts with Mr. Ching. 
 
 Till Lady Connor, from her station 
 Beside, thus turns the conversation — 
 " Dear ! Mr. Ching, that 's very pretty — 
 "Why Moore himself 's not half so witty ; 
 " How well you know our English dances I 
 ' " You '11 come to us the twenty-second ; 
 " You 've heard, perhaps, that Lady Frances 
 
 " The Duke his best Mazourkist reckoned.— 
 « Music you like— -Ah ! how divine a 
 
 « Thmg is that song Fan loves to sing — 
 
104 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IL 
 
 " Your property,! think,'s in China,* 
 
 " And you 're the eldest, Mr. Chjng ?" 
 " Can, Mr. Ching," resumes the lady, 
 
 " Our carriage be of use to you 1 
 " I grieve, that we 're so full already — 
 " We cannot ask your brother too — 
 " Oh, I forgot — well, well — -you '11 call ! 
 " Fanny, my love — ^why, where 's your shawl?" 
 
 Retiirn we — as the gallant Ching 
 Now starts, the friendly robe to bring — 
 To Chang, who, I forgot to tell ye, 
 
 Was arguing with Prince C i ; 
 
 Both talked with wonderful ability, — " 
 The theme I — '^ The., doctrine of Utility." 
 
 A point so hard, if well contested— 
 Could scarce in such spot be adjusted ; 
 So 't was agreed on either side, 
 That Hallam should the point decide ; 
 Since none more noted for addiction 
 To learning or — ^to contradiction. 
 
 This settled, they propose to canter 
 
 Off to the Umpire's house instanter ; 
 
 Forgetting, in the hot debate. 
 
 That now it was extremely late. 
 
 And that, perchance, sweet sleep assuages 
 
 His mind who wrote " The Middle Ages." 
 
 'T was just as they were high in all 
 
 The grave dispute, that Ching was hurried 
 
 Away for Lady Fanny's shawl : — 
 And just as Ching himself bestirred, 
 
 * Little mistakes in topography are not uncommon In the. best educated 
 persons. 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 105 
 
 In many a warm but graceful fold, her 
 Shawl to wrap across her shoulder, 
 That, having not himself an inkling 
 
 That Chang thus rudely to depart meant, 
 Ching was snatched off; — and in a twinkling, 
 
 Vanish'd away from the apartment. 
 
 " 'T is very strange" — said Lady Fan, 
 " But, really, Ching 's a pleasant man !" 
 " 'T is very strange" — rejoin'd her mother, 
 " But, really, Ching must cut his brother." 
 
 So left our Twins that sumptuous dome 
 
 To find the Historian — not at home ; 
 
 And poor Utility is still 
 
 Bandied Macauley versus Mill ; — 
 
 That sumptuous dome of fears and hopes — 
 
 Of raptures breath'd between the ropes. 
 
 As round, in languor and satiety, 
 
 Ripples the stream of " Good Society !" 
 
 Their way thus won to Fashion's fort, 
 Our brothers patronise the court — 
 Partake the genial Monarch's meal. 
 And see crowned heads in dishabille^ 
 
 Chang joins the party of Lord Grey, 
 Biit Ching more loved Duke Arthur's sway : 
 So should Dame Fate uphold his Grace, 
 Gay Ching enjoys a cosey place ; ' 
 And if the Earl should gain the head, 
 Why then the place is Chang's instead. — 
 Fit emblem of the twin conditions 
 Of all who 're rightly politicians — 
 To them alike each swift mutation, 
 Two faces — ^but the same snug station ! 
 
106 THE SIAMESE TWINS* [bOOK II. 
 
 Ah ! how convenient — how invincible— 
 
 That junction-bone called " Change of Principle !" 
 
 And Ching, to Chang's vexation, dances 
 Before the Queen with Lady Frances, 
 And thinks each smile the fair accords hirr , 
 A proof of her intentions tow'rds him ; 
 Hints to his friends how well he 's treated, 
 (Those lucky dogs are so conceited !) 
 Nay, fancies that 't is time to prove 
 By some bold act return of love ; 
 And thinks the least that he can do. 
 To show how Bancok gallants woo, 
 Will be some quiet night to clamber 
 Without the wall into her chamber. 
 
 " Heavens ! what a coxcomb !" — I confess sOj 
 But few your foreign dandies less so ; 
 You 'd think, to hear the rascals boast, 
 Each glance they shot had bagged its host — 
 And ye, soft sex, in truth distinguish 
 Those creatures far beyond the English ; 
 With them ride, ruralize, and flirt. 
 As if French scandal did no hurt^ 
 Behold the danger of the thing, 
 And cut the coxcombs, warned by Ching. 
 
 Ching's project he to Chang unfolded. 
 Who slowly yielded, while he scolded 
 (Glad, it may be, that Ching appeared 
 To love not where at first he feared), 
 And in return, Ching gave a hearty 
 
 Assent to join Miss 's party ; 
 
 Who had engaged all Wisdom's scions 
 To tea — a coterie of Lions — 
 The punning — chemie — chattering — critical, 
 And oeconomico-political. 
 
CHAP, n.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 107 
 
 In one night, then, the bond they ratify, 
 
 Their several tastes in turn to gratify : - 
 
 First comes grave talk, the soul subliming, 
 
 " A.nd then, my boy," cries Ching, « for climbing !'* 
 
 'T is eve ! the party met, — our pair, 
 
 The " observed of all observers," there ! 
 
 Charming the melange ! — what variety 
 
 Checkers the tints of Blue society ! 
 
 A chatterer here, and there a still man, 
 
 A Malthus now, and next a Milman ; 
 
 A Spanish air, a German guttural, 
 
 A sharp, dry sentence shot from Luttrel ; 
 
 A song from Tom, a hit from Sam, 
 
 A glorious laugh from William Lamb ;* 
 
 A prosy man from Timbuctoo, 
 
 A fine, freethinking, liberal Jew ; . 
 
 A general hash of odds and ends — ^ ' 
 
 New books — old medals — deaths of friends — . 
 
 Stewed down into a conversation. 
 
 By men of " general information," 
 
 O ye great Authors of our time, 
 
 Be gentle to this gentle rhyme ! 
 
 Abuse me not as you 've abused me — 
 
 You know how shockingly you 've used me — 
 
 Altho' you blandly clothed your guile, 
 
 And veiled your bite beneath your smile ; 
 
 And, fearful ev'n of this poor satire. 
 
 Forbore to aid — but not to flatter. 
 
 Yet is it just ! — for him, who sues 
 
 No praise from bards, no help from Blues ; 
 
 Who yields their idols cold respect, 
 
 Who shuns their dinners and their sect ; 
 
 * Who, as Viscount Melbourne and Secretary of State, will, we hope and 
 believe, fulfil all that the country has long expected from his talents, and prove 
 that a man may be honest and true, as well as wise and merry. 
 
108 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II. 
 
 And from the world to Reason flown, 
 
 Thinks for himself and lives alone-— 
 
 For him, I fear, is scarce the trade, 
 
 By which neat piles of Fame are made. 
 
 No hints to these, no balm to those, 
 
 No urging friends, or soothing foes ; 
 
 No passing on the vagrant Muse 
 
 To noble shelves and Scotch Reviews ; 
 
 No begging each book-making sinner . 
 
 To talk about one's work at dinner : 
 
 No luck like that by which some hoary '^• 
 
 Renowns were coddled into glory ; 
 
 And now, grown " honours to the nation," 
 
 Blew out their " bubble reputation." 
 
 Our Twins are sauntering tnro' the room — 
 
 Ching bored — Chang perfectly at home ; 
 
 You 'd thought, to mark their several faces, 
 
 Their characters had shifted places. 
 
 Chang, charmed to hear such lore and knowledge, 
 
 Seemed blithe as Freshman at a college, 
 
 While Ching contrasts his learned gladness 
 
 With a long face of patient sadness. 
 
 I spare you, reader, a narration 
 
 Of all the graver conversation. 
 
 Of how Chang heats his kindled soul 
 
 With Parry's chat about the Pole ; 
 
 Now combats Ward* about romances — 
 
 Now Lubbockf on the scale of chances ; 
 
 Here overthrows the dour Sir JamesJ 
 
 With a great blunder fresh from Kaimes ; 
 
 And here in turn is crushed indeed 
 
 With a much greater one from Reid. 
 
 {* Author of " Tremaine."] 
 
 [t A young man of considerable attainments in mathematical S(»en«e.] 
 
 [X Mackintosh.} 
 
CHAP, n.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 109 
 
 All this I spare you, and instead 
 With silent steps the crowd we tread, 
 And enter, thro' a little blue door. 
 What Lady Morgan loves — -" a houdoir.^'' 
 Enter, and with our Twins, who find 
 On a neat ottoman reclined. 
 Our friend, young Julian, and a certain 
 Wit of the day—- we '11 call him Merton. 
 One of those wits he was, who place 
 The talent greatly in the face — 
 Whose lips when closed are full of matter, 
 And each sharp eye 's itself a satire. 
 Callous and bold, and ne'er concealing 
 The aim, each arrow sought some feeling, 
 And every jest that took the wing 
 But buzzed around the heart, to sting. 
 Art thou a shot % — ^thy joy remember 
 When rise two woodcocks in December ! 
 Ev'n with such joy the jester swell'd 
 When now our brothers he beheld, 
 And cock'd— resolved both birds to hit — 
 The double barrels of his wit. 
 
 But first the Humorist seems to praise. 
 The while he questions of — their ways ; 
 Till noting with a gladdened eye 
 How Chang winced sore at each reply. 
 Him he more markedly address'd, 
 Took a cool aim, and fired his jest. 
 
 Quoth be, " the nature of your tie 
 " Must be a great advantage to you ; 
 
 " All laws you clearly may defy, 
 
 " And ropes and chains in vaui pursue you. 
 
 " For while the one offence incurs, 
 "The other naught amiss may do ; 
 F 
 
110 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK 11. 
 
 " And who shall harm the one who errs, 
 
 " Nor harm the unoffending too ? 
 " Nor bounds your tie to law's perversion— 
 " Think what a fund 't is for diversion ! 
 
 " Suppose Chang went into the church, 
 " Ajid Ching should enter in the navy, 
 
 " On Sunday evenings, in the lurch 
 
 " Ching leaves his flock to cry * peccavi.' 
 
 " Because Lieutenant Ching — the sinner— 
 
 " Grows groggy at the Captain's dinner ; 
 
 " While, should a war break out — and Ching 
 " Have any timorous misgiving, 
 
 " He 's only got to cut the thing 
 
 " By saying, ' Chang can't leave his living !' 
 
 " Think, too — since now the illumined nation 
 
 " Has taken up emancipation, 
 
 " And a big oath — his thousandth odd— - 
 
 " Upon O'Connell's sturdy lips is — 
 " That this next sessions, he — by God-— 
 
 " Will quite emancipate the — Gipsies ! 
 " Why should not bright St. Stephen's, too, 
 " Emancipation grant to you ? 
 * Giving you both the right of burgess, 
 «* To sit in parliament by purchase ? 
 
 " Well, then, if Chang ambition fire, 
 " And he some quiet burgh should hire ; 
 ** Ching need not care a single filbert, 
 " What bills he owes to Stultz and Gilbert. 
 *' T' arrest the debtor would, remember, 
 ** Be a gross outrage on the Member. 
 
 •* But putting greater things aside, 
 " Only conceive that one may wed, 
 
CHAP, 11.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. Ill 
 
 "And that the other hates the bride, 
 " With whom he too must go to bed» 
 
 *' Supposing, while you most caress her, 
 
 *' He with reproaches should address her ; 
 
 " ' Ah, thy sweet mouth !' — * that monstrous feature !' 
 
 " ' Star of my soul !'•— ' the nasty creature ; 
 
 " ' Shall I be never of this bore rid ]' 
 
 " * Oh, what delight !' — ' my God, how horrid !' 
 
 " Such, it is clear, might be of each 
 
 " Th' opposing thought, or, haply, speech ! 
 
 *' If this should now and then annoy, 
 
 " At least one comfort you enjoy ; 
 
 " Should you grow tired of Mrs. Chang, 
 
 *' 'T is not quite requisite to hang ! 
 
 " Whene'er you like, unto her snarlings 
 
 " You leave her with the little darlings ! 
 
 " For Ching, whom you place all the offence with, 
 
 " Blame him as much as she may please, 
 " Has business, that he can't dispense with, 
 
 " Just at your wife's antipodes ! 
 
 " Thus may you feast on all love's honey, 
 " But shun the sting of matrimony !" 
 
 More had the Jester said, but flushed 
 
 And angry lowered Chang's gloomy brow ; — 
 
 And as he spoke, the dark soul rushed 
 Into his glance, and his wrath avow— . 
 
 " Gay fool, avaunt thy mockery. 
 
 «* Speak'st thou of love— of brides to ME !" 
 
 No more his ire his lip disclosed, 
 Still on his brow the cloud reposed ; 
 Still struggled scorn with bitter shame. 
 In his curved lip, and stem eye's flame ; 
 
 F2 
 
113 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK 11. 
 
 Still on the Jester fierce he gazed, 
 And still his hand half-threatening raised. 
 Abashed and craven looked the wit, 
 He feared a yet severer hit ; 
 He thought our Siamese Ulysses 
 
 In sturdy hlows his anger might ease ; 
 Nor lilted, amid surrounding quizzes, 
 
 To share the fate of old Thersites. 
 But Ching most opportunely made 
 A sortie in the Humorist's aid ; 
 And whisper'd low, as towards the door, 
 , With Chang, like ship in tow, swift sailing — 
 " Talking of love, 't is time, and more, 
 
 " To go, dear Chang, about the scaling !" 
 
 Soon as the startled Jester gains 
 
 The even tenor of his veins — 
 
 " Is there no place Man 'scapes from feeling 
 
 " The insidious blows of double dealing ]" 
 
 He said — and all athirst to quaff 
 
 That dram to wits professed — a laugh — 
 
 He turned for Julian's approbation ; 
 
 But found him vanished from his station, 
 
 Gone also on an assignation. 
 
BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTiEK m. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Night in the streets of London— Knowledge— Feeling suppressed— Hodges 
 wandering homeward — ^His gallant but melancholy adventure — He arrives 
 at his home — The spectacle there reserved for a father's eyes — His speech — 
 The answer made to it— The finale to a very distressing scene — Lady 
 Frances and her friends — ^The interruption— Tlie danger — ^The escape — The 
 Muse explains — A caution to young ladies — Bond-street apostrophized — 
 *****'s Hotel faithfully described— Ching's unproper levity—A battle—The 
 prison. 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 115 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Night — the gray mother of the Charlies 
 Who hve no more the parish fund on ; 
 
 Still from her drowsy watch-box parlies 
 With her old gossip, Mother London, 
 
 The charming retail of their scandal 
 My prudence bids me fear to handle ; 
 Law — fain to drive the babbling vice hence — > 
 Keeps to itself the retail license. 
 Yet will dear spite from such restriction 
 Escape sometimes to works of fiction ; 
 ! And if 4;o facts I now must grovel — 
 Why — -only buy my next new novel [ 
 
 And Silence through the lamp-lit streets 
 
 Hath left man's dwellings to the fairies ; — 
 Save when some cat the wanderer meets 
 
 Glides thro'- — what Betty calls- — the airies* 
 Then on the ear of midnight grew, 
 The cadence of the varying mew ; 
 " It rose — that chanted, mournful strain — 
 *' Like some lone spirit's o'er the plain. 
 " 'T was musical — ^but sadly sweet — ■"* 
 
 Until in answer to the call 
 You heard some feline Juliet greet 
 
 Its little Romeo from the wall. 
 Then wildly changed the note of feeling., 
 And softness sharpened into squealing. 
 
 * « Siege of Corinth," 1. 223-5. 
 
116 * THE SIAMS&E TWINS. [bOOK H* 
 
 Ev'n as in Melmoth's mighty tale 
 
 'T is told, how~of the Power of Evil- 
 Aerial music did not fail 
 
 To play — ^before he played the devil! 
 
 The chimneys in the shining air, 
 
 Look desolate and lone, 
 Like ruined Schemes, they wonder where 
 
 Their pretty smoke hath gone. 
 x\non from some high room you see 
 
 The calm light of the taper. 
 By which, perchance-— some bard like me, 
 
 Stamps glory into paper. 
 Thee, Knowledge, thirsting to inherit, 
 
 What nights have I outwatched the stars ! 
 And dream'd I might inhale thy spirit, 
 
 Through silence, and my loved cigars ! 
 
 While to the gorgeous tide that rushed 
 
 To Pleasure charioted below, 
 Shook the lone chamber — lone and hushed — 
 
 Where cast the wizard lamp its glow, 
 Some time o'er such high theme of thought, 
 As that to Earth by Wisdom taught ; 
 Or, some time, when in dreamy mood, 
 
 I watch the dim thought glide 
 Through the shut spirit's solitude, 
 
 In a lazy and motelike tide. 
 
 nights !— -O solitudes ! — what deep 
 
 Delight, and pure, were drank from you ! 
 Ne'er from my boyhood's golden sleep. 
 
 Such dreams of glory grew ! 
 If I could pour what I have felt, 
 
 O' Knowledge, with its burning prayer. 
 When to thy shrine my heart hath knelt ; — 
 
 •'-"" ■' "If I could to the world declare^, 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 117 
 
 One tithe of that which hath the power 
 To fill with speech my lonely hour ; 
 One whisper of the wondrous voices, 
 In which the unwitness'd soul, rejoices ;— 
 
 Oh, if But fated in their birth, 
 
 The first born of our feelings perish ; 
 And later thoughts that cling to earth. 
 
 Our earthly natures only cherish. 
 And if at times within the breast, 
 The Unseen Habitant is stirr'd, 
 And chafes against its narrow rest 
 
 Like some imprisoned bird; 
 Back to its sullen home, repress'd, 
 We curb too well the pining guest ; 
 Until, all reconciled and tamed. 
 It loves the bars which fate hath framed ; 
 Yea ! in the very face of day 
 
 Content with customed slavery, sings. 
 And, calm'd within its cage of clay, 
 Forgets its skies and folds its wings. 
 
 'T is night ! and through the streets is going 
 
 The worthy Hodges, homeward bent. 
 Not overmuch, I fear me, knowing 
 
 His own most rational intent. 
 
 He had been joining, you must know, 
 A public feast at Cuffs* and Co. ; 
 And — mixmg politics with mirth — 
 Spouting at large on English worth ; 
 But speaking when conjoined with drinking. 
 Confuses, while it shows, one's thinking. 
 The way was long to his abode. 
 Nor sought he out the shortest road, 
 
 * Freemasons' Tavern. 
 F3 
 
118 THE SIAMESE TWIKS. [bOOK II. 
 
 See ! how he's rolling 
 Now, to and fro, 
 
 Fitfully trolling 
 A ballad or so. 
 Such as drop out of the lip of good fellows, 
 When those windfalls of wisdom, wine suddenly mellows' 
 " 'T is glorious to sing dithyrambics divine, 
 " When the spirit is struck with the lightning of wine ;'^ 
 So Archilochus cried when good drink was a deus 
 (Ah ! those ancients were jolly dogs), see Athenaeus. 
 
 By Bond-street blundering, mark him now— 
 He stops — looks up the street — a row ! 
 A row, by martyr'd Charles, the cherished 
 Patron of nightly Charlies, perished ; 
 The first great Charlie, who 'd the vcZ^ 
 To guard the street — ^but rob the house ; 
 Who rattled with the louder zeal, 
 1 The more his own dark schemes were hatching ; 
 And helped — the cunning rogue ! — to steal 
 The goods he claimed his pay for watching. 
 
 A row — a row ! — run, Hodges, run. 
 To patriots fighting 's always fun ! 
 He runs — he jumps — ^he scours — he flies ! 
 " Britons ! what odds are these ?" he cries, 
 As dim and distant he can yet view, 
 'Gainst one or two a desperate set-to. 
 
 Oh, haste ! oh, haste ! you caimot guess 
 Whose woes, whose wrongs you may redress 
 Perchance, much greater were your pucker. 
 Did you forebode whom you would succour. 
 
 False fate — you moral Delilah, 
 
 Thank heaven, we all know what you are ' 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 119 
 
 And now just see, you spiteful kitten, 
 The way you served our worthy Briton ! 
 *From right to left, not quite bereft 
 
 Of all sense of the perpendicular, 
 His path he takes : he nears the row- 
 He sees the watchman's garb — and now 
 
 Their words grow plain, and more auricular. 
 
 Oh ! is he yet in time to save ? 
 
 His feet the kennel's waters lave ! 
 
 Another stride — alas ! 't is vain ! 
 
 Reel nerve and heart — reel sight and brain ! 
 
 And where the mire the thickest lodges. 
 
 Oh ! heaven — procumhit humi Hodges I 
 
 Gone is the bustle, reader, where 
 
 Th& muse may by-and-by declare ! 
 
 Gone is the bustle — still and quiet, 
 
 Time's courier hours perform his fiat ; 
 
 And Hodges sighs — he stirs — he sneezes ! 
 
 The act his memory somewhat eases ! 
 
 Naught like a sneeze to fillip sense. 
 
 When sleep steals o'er us, God knows whence ; 
 
 So, if our history hath not fix'd your 
 
 Vigilance — N. B. get your mixture. 
 
 Well, Hodges wakes — stirs— shakes his ears, 
 And up he staggers ! 
 He stands and thinks ; the dim past rushes 
 Into his mind ; — I hope he blushes ! 
 And with a trembling hand he brushes 
 The dirt that to his garb adheres ; — 
 
 And then away briskly the patriot swaggers. 
 
 Your wine, i' faith, 's a wondrous prober 
 Into the cranium's real powers ; 
 
 * " From right to left his path he cleft," &c. 
 
 The Bride of Abydos* 
 
120 THE SIAMESE TWINTS* [bOOK O. 
 
 Some are Mo days in getting sober- 
 Some somid as ever in two hours. 
 Hodges was of the latter species ; 
 Placebk repetitadecies 1 
 
 And now he 's at his own house-door — 
 
 He knocks not, for he has a key ; uw. lit- 
 
 He enters — in a moment more 
 
 Upon the landing-place stands he ! 
 A light streams thro' the threshold's chinks, 
 
 And voices murmur low within it ! 
 " The Twins not yet in bed !" he thinks ; 
 
 " Suppose I join them for a minute !" 
 
 This chamber — ^mind — the builder's art meant 
 The drawing-room, or best apartment ; * 
 
 Not made for Somnus and his quorum— 
 This hint is to preserve deoorum ! 
 
 Well, Hodges enters, and descries — 
 
 O gods ! — O night ! — O unsnufFed' candle I 
 *By which the astomided father eyes 
 
 So singular a scene of scandal! 
 That while by her soft hand the vile 
 
 Deceiving young Lothario 's caught her, 
 His Cousin does the time beguile. 
 
 In kneeling to his blushing daughter. 
 
 The Father stares — Fate no more killing 
 
 Sight on a father's eye bestows, 
 Than a young rogue, without a shilling, 
 
 Courting his child before his nose 1 
 
 Ah ! at the view of such a lover, 
 What visions of lost guineas hover t 
 
CHAP. m. J THE SIAMESE TWINS. 121 
 
 With what a muscular distortion 
 One sees the expected marriage portion. 
 The house set up — the yearly cradle- 
 Mouths — for which he must buy the ladle. 
 And oh ! — those bitter — bitter pills, ' 
 Jack's schooling, and the butcher's bills ! 
 Ah ! who 'd not rather, free from wife 
 Or children, lounge a C celeb's life, 
 Than pay for kisses, and for blisses, 
 Not one of which sweet luxuries his is? 
 
 Such were the thoughts, which, swift and hot, 
 Through Hodges' cranium went full trot ; 
 At sevens and sixes oddly pacing. 
 Like donkeys cudgelled into racing. 
 While he surveyed the lovers spitefully. 
 Enjoy themselves so damn'd delightfully ! 
 
 " Hollo !" he cried, " what are you after ?" 
 Upstarts the youth — upstarts the daughter. 
 
 The one remains erect, the other 
 
 Just strives one fearful shriek to smother, 
 
 Then sinks into her seat once more. 
 
 With both her hands her face concealing, 
 And her mute shame appears t' implore 
 
 Your mercy for her wounded feeling. 
 Which phrase, if less adroitly moulded, 
 Means a dislike to being scolded. 
 
 " You base young man — is this the way, sir, 
 "My care, my kindness you repay, sir? 
 " Seduce the affections, so unwary 
 " And artless, of my daughter Mary ? 
 
 " Out of my house, sir, not a word, 
 " Your chaff won't catch so old a bird ! 
 
122 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK U.'^ 
 
 " Out'of my house, sir — Oh ! ungrateful, 
 
 " How often here you 've had your plateM ! 
 
 " How often — ^but — but 't is no matter ! 
 
 *' Just look, thou base seducer, at her, 
 
 " Is that the lady you 'd predestine 
 
 " To plunge into a match clandestine. ' 
 
 *' Sir, she 's my only child, and I 
 
 " Can leave her rich, sir, when I die ; 
 
 " And you, with scarce a single sous, 
 
 " My heiress thus presume to woo. 
 
 " I never heard such impudence, sir, 
 
 " My home 's my castle — budge — trot hence, sir, 
 
 " Zounds ! it is odd, indeed, in these 
 
 " Blest islands, free as their own waters, 
 " If we can't marry as we please 
 
 " Our own confounded daughters ! 
 
 " Sir, I 'm a freeman, and I fear 
 
 " No dun's address — no man's eifrontery— < 
 . " I pay, sir, forty pounds a year 
 
 " In rates and taxes to my country. 
 " Nor do 1, sir, one farthing care 
 
 " What man is called his Grace ; 
 " No ! I 'm a Briton, and can look 
 
 " A lord, sir, in the face ; 
 "And I intend, and can afford^ sir, 
 " Her spouse himself shall be a lord, sir ! 
 " So, Mr. Laneham, march — retreat — 
 " She for your betters will be meat I" 
 
 Succinct and clear, thus Hodges said — - 
 He ceased, and sternly shook his head. 
 His small eyes twinkled in their sockets — 
 He buttoned up his breeches-pockets ; 
 As if to say, " What these contain — them 
 " You '11 never get, young Master Laneham." 
 
CHAP, m.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 1 23 
 
 So stood he sour — austere — majestic ! 
 
 " Oh ! home — sweet home !" — Oh, scene domestic ! 
 
 Then Laneham, with a look, where sorrow 
 Seemed something high from pride to borrow, 
 First glanced where, just one pace apart. 
 
 His Mary in her shame was sobbing ; 
 Then curbed his brow, and chid his heart 
 
 From its untimely throbbing ; 
 And with calm gaze,, nor daunted, eyed 
 The angry sire, and thus replied. 
 
 " We loved each other since our birth, 
 " An orphan I, had none beside 
 
 " To love upon the lonely earth ; 
 
 " And she, save thee and me, saw none 
 
 " To pour her full heart's love upon. 
 " We loved— and when thou wert away 
 
 " In other lands for years to rove, 
 " We saw each other, day by day, 
 
 " And grew with every day our love ! 
 " No treachery mine ! for well I knew 
 
 " Her heart was like my own, 
 ** And that had wound itself unto 
 
 " One chord of life alone.= 
 " To leave her — ^tho' to wealth — were worse 
 " To her than Want's severest curse ; 
 " And I ! in huts with her to live 
 " Were worth all wealth — all worlds could give ! 
 
 " And if I claim her now—I crave 
 
 " No dowry save her love for me ; 
 *' 'T is just that they who fortune brave, 
 
 " Should bear the wants that they foresee. 
 " But not that thou shouldst doom thy child 
 
 " Through hfe in bitter thought to pine ; 
 
124 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK 11. 
 
 " If I — if I her peace beguil'd, 
 " Oh ! make th' atonement mine ! 
 
 " And I, through every change, will swear 
 
 " To love, to cherish, to defend her ; 
 " And recompense in love, whate'er 
 
 " Of wealth for love ^he may surrender " 
 
 He ceased — and Mary had withdrawn 
 From her sweet face her veiling hands ; 
 
 And Hope abruptly seemed to dawn 
 
 O'er her pale cheek, and stay the fears 
 
 That trembled in her spell-bound tears. 
 But hard and harsh the father stands, 
 And though within him might be lurking 
 
 The milk of human kindness — naught 
 
 Of yielding love or gentle thought 
 Upon his rigid brow is working. 
 
 When once a man's mind is resolved, 
 
 'T is useless to his heart appealing. 
 You can't get through the leaves involved 
 
 Around his artichoke of feeling. 
 
 The Saint, who thought his child a catch, 
 
 Wish'd her to make " a proper match ;" * 
 
 He hoped perhaps a lord — a clever 
 
 Member of Parliament, however ! 
 
 So you may judge the youth was ill able 
 
 To melt him by a single syllable. 
 
 " Well ! have you done ?" was all he said* 
 
 " Mary, your hand — we '11 go to bed. 
 
 *' Excuse me, sir — you '11 find the door 
 
 " Where you have found it, sir, before. 
 
 " Your servant." 
 
 With these words he took 
 Poor Maiy by the hand, and pass'd 
 
CHAP. Ill,] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 125 
 
 Up Stairs — upon the youth one look — 
 One look of anguish Mary cast. 
 
 And then he was aione, 
 Father and child were gone ! 
 
 He stands with downcast eyes, 
 
 Nor speaks, nor stirs ; 
 His thought— hi|^ spirit flies 
 
 To blend with hers ! 
 Until, dissolved, the cold thoughts flow 
 
 Back on his startled heart ; 
 And with a quiet step and slow, 
 
 •He turns him to depart.' . 
 Then the harsh-tongued and desolate 
 
 Sound of the closing door, 
 Heavily rose where Mary sate. 
 
 And taunts and chidings bore. 
 Bore with so meek yet crush'd an air. 
 That Hodges could not but forbear, 
 
 ' To wound too deep so soft a breast ; 
 And, as himself was very tired, 
 He soon resolved that, till the morning, 
 • All farther scolding, threat, and warning. 
 
 Should kindly be suppress'd. 
 He rose, and solemnly desired 
 She 'd say her prayers and go to sleiep, 
 And, begging also she 'd not weep 
 Herself into the scarlet fever. 
 He left — as we will also leave her. 
 
 Change we the scene — To square, 
 
 Au troisihne with the Muse repair. 
 
 See in that room — the drapery 's blue — 
 
 A little party met at loo : 
 
126 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II. 
 
 Young — single — ^beautiful — in short, 
 The veriest rose-buds of the court. 
 Poor Lady Frances, you must know, 
 Caught a bad cold some nights ago. 
 And, freed awhile from courtly duty, 
 At home behold the languid beauty, 
 Whiling the tedium that attends 
 On siclmess, with some bosom friends, 
 And loosed from chaperons and mothers, 
 Chatting on love and elder brothers. 
 It makes one's heart beat to behold 
 Sweet girls together uncontrolled ; 
 Guileless but gay— -and though without us, 
 Talking, dear creatures ! all about us. 
 
 " 'T is I to deal — you saw their pearls— 
 
 " I own I never liked those girls, 
 
 " And yet the stupid men they charm. 
 
 " Jane's head is good — but such an arm ! 
 
 " What made her like that Mr. Frere, 
 
 " The odious man — what ! diamonds, dear ? • 
 
 " So George will marry Bell, they say — 
 
 " Poor thing ! — ^he 's been extremely gay ; 
 
 " I own it gave me great surprise—* 
 
 " He 's handsome ! — Yes — such charming eyes | 
 
 " The Duke at first refused consent, 
 
 " But Bell upon the match was bent — 
 
 " He 'd scarce a sous 1-— was that the rub — 
 
 " What made him live so well ? — a club. 
 
 *' Well, they '11 be happy, for he sings 
 
 *' Such songs — she wears the prettiest things ! 
 
 " With great economy they '11 do — 
 
 " They 've hired Lord Henry's house at Kew, 
 
 " Love ev'n the poorest couple blesses, 
 
 " And Carson makes the prettiest dresses. 
 
CHAP. niT] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 137 
 
 "Is that the deuce 1 — fie, love — ^the tiao ! 
 ^ «0 Lord!" — here shrieks appal the hearing, 
 For at the casement to their view, 
 
 A deuce-like two indeed appearing ; 
 One face gay, grinning with delight, 
 The other sad and grave as night- 
 Yet both in dusky hue alike, 
 
 And strange, uncouth, outlandish features — • 
 Enough, in real truth, to strike 
 ' Some terror into those sweet creatures. 
 . Half in the room, and half without, 
 < They pause a moment as in doubt ; 
 Not so the damsels — through the door 
 Each strugglmg to be first, they pour; 
 And really it was quite heart-breaking 
 To hear so sad a waste of shrieking. 
 Such sounds, if lavished on the stage. 
 Had made e'en merit quite the rage. 
 Scarce more terrific, or more loud. 
 The clamour of the Bromian crowd, 
 "When Pentheus, as old tales recount. 
 Lay hid on gray Cithaeron's mount. 
 And strove, rash monarch ! to discover 
 What ladies do— when half seas over ! 
 
 So — there arrested in amazement. 
 
 Still pause our Brothers at the casement. 
 
 Quoth Ching, at last — " Upon my soul, 
 
 " I think her conduct vastly droll, 
 
 *' Perhaps her feelings quite betray'd her, 
 
 " At such a public honour paid her. 
 
 « What think you ?" 
 
 Chang, serene and cool. 
 Replied — " O Ching, you are a fool ! 
 " Enough I 've how in sober sadness, 
 " Conceded to this shallow madness. 
 
128 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK H. 
 
 " Come — 'danger dwelleth in delay, 
 
 " Retreat we safely while we may." 
 
 " You 're quite enough to make a maa swear," 
 
 Cried Ching — when suddenly his answer 
 
 Dies on his lips, as half a score 
 
 Of menials rush within the door. 
 
 The butler, who leads on th' assault, 
 
 Wheels round, and shouts in thunder, " Halt !" 
 
 While to the dread of each beholder, 
 
 Comes up his musket to his shoulder. 
 
 He lays his finger on the trigger, 
 
 And mutters out — " By Jove — a Nigger !" 
 
 By butlers shall their blood be shed ? 
 
 Slap went the window, down each head. 
 
 The menials to the lattice run— 
 
 The butler points below his gun — 
 
 All look without — no Twins are there ! 
 
 Like witches, have they turned to air ! 
 
 " Run, John, the yard below explore — 
 
 " You, Thomas, fly to the front door !" 
 
 They ran, they searched, they stared, they gaped 
 
 In vain — our heroes have escaped. 
 
 Love stretched her cloud, my Twins, o'er ye, as 
 
 She stretched it once o'er good ^neas. 
 
 How 'scaped they thus from being shot there ? 
 
 First sing, sweet Phoebus, how they got there ! 
 
 Well then, this window, reader, know. 
 
 Looked on the unwatched yard below ; 
 
 It was a corner house, and (bearing 
 
 Some few doors round) was one repairing, 
 
 A scaffold used whose walls in mending. 
 
 Had served our brothers for ascending ; 
 
 Then creeping round the leads, they gain 
 
 The house which love will storm in vain, 
 
 And reach, by cords from roof suspended. 
 
 The window where the journey ended. 
 
CfiAP. HI.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 129 
 
 So when Fate bade them fly the foe, 
 Their course was upward, not below. 
 Trained from their earliest years to climb, 
 They seized the rope, and swung sublime, 
 While, unsuspicious of this soaring. 
 The foes beneath were all exploring. 
 'T was thus the enemy they baffled, 
 Retracked the leads, regained the scaffold, 
 And, tarrying till the search was o'er. 
 Won terra Jlrma as before. 
 You '11 own that these the sort of fellows 
 That make old husbands devilish jealous. 
 
 Now, as they wander, Ching declares, 
 He has no notion of such airs ; 
 That coyness may a maid be suiting, 
 But not when once it comes to shooting ! 
 That that event hath sealed her sentence, 
 And he will leave her to repentance, 
 To wet with pining tears her pillow. 
 Recall his love, and wear the willow. 
 But Chang no answer gave — inurned 
 Within his breast a fever burned. 
 And all, or light, or gay, or vain, 
 But reached the sense to rouse disdain. 
 And more than all it seemed to sting 
 When Ching's allusions served to bring 
 A closer, keener memory 
 Of the loathed nature of their tie. 
 Howbeit, Ching, I 've always heard. 
 Preserved his wrath and kept his word, 
 And sternly left to other chances 
 Of love and conquest. Lady Frances — . 
 Wherefore beware, ye girls who charm us, 
 How you're alarmed, or how alarm us ; 
 
BO THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II. 
 
 Nor if you wish for life to suit us, 
 
 Send men — you take the hint — to shoot us ! 
 
 And now our brothers Bond-street enter ;— 
 
 Dear street of London's charms the centre ! ^ 
 
 Dear street ! — where at a certain hour 
 
 Man's foUies bud forth into flower ! 
 
 "Where the gay minor sighs for fashion ; 
 
 Where Majors Hve that minor's cash on ; 
 
 "Where each who wills may suit his wish, 
 
 Here choose a Guido — there his fish : — 
 
 Or where, if woman's love beguiles, 
 
 The ugliest dc^ is sure of smiles. 
 
 Dear street of noise, of crowds, of wealth, 
 
 Of all Earth's thousand joys — save health. 
 
 Of plate, of books — and (I incline a 
 
 Little that way) of old Sevres china. 
 
 Of all, in short, by which pursuing, 
 
 We glide entranced to our undoing ; 
 
 Lounge through each mixed and motley blessing 
 
 Of loving, dining, driving, dressing — 
 
 Despise expense and sober fools. 
 
 And wake at last — within the Rules ! 
 
 Ay, just by that buck-haunted house, 
 Where well the cheer atones the chouse ; 
 Where not a thing by palate polish'd. 
 Can e'er in safety be demolish'd. 
 While the bill items, to your sadness, 
 The outrageous taxes paid to badness ; 
 Counts all your hungers, if eschew'd 
 Your prudence the untempting food, 
 Or if you, greatly daring, dined. 
 The damn'd dyspepsia 's left behind. 
 Well — just by that renowned hotel 
 WTiere whiskered Tigers grimly dwell, 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 131 
 
 Where noble and his Dolly 
 
 Bask in the dung of vulgar folly. 
 Where the mustachio'd sharpers shun 
 ^he guU'd friend, as the greedy dun. 
 Where Slang exalts his belcher'd nob, 
 And the smug waiter is " Dear Bob."* 
 Well, just by this divine abode, 
 A group of Cynthias block'd the road : 
 iJVo sooner did they see our two, 
 Than pounce on them the lasses flew ! 
 Perchance they fancied, if short-sighted, 
 Two things that seemed so close united — 
 Might be old R — th — Id, amorous soul ! 
 Taking with Three-por-Cents a stroll. 
 Chang scowl'd upon them, grave and scornful- 
 One maid engross'd his bosom mournful — 
 But Ching stopp'd short, with sparkling features. 
 And leering, cried, " What charming creatures !" 
 To you, dear reader! I must leave 
 The ladies' wonder to conceive, 
 When they perceived they had got hold of 
 The Twins they 'd been so often told of. 
 While they were chatting and conferring, 
 Chang vainly begg'd them to be stirring ; 
 But finding Ching w^as deaf to preaching, 
 Sullen he ceased from all beseeching. 
 Folded his arms, and raised his eyes, 
 And grew romantic on the skies. 
 
 Heaven knows to what, or where, gay Ching 
 Had sought the solemn Chang to bring ; 
 Had not three heroes of the shop, 
 Smith, Smythe, and Kin, pre-kin'd by Pop, 
 
 * The waiter is accustomed to receive notes from gentlemen in " CYacfk Re- 
 giments," borrowing 20i., and beginning " Dear Bob." 
 
132 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK H. 
 
 Warm from some revel nobly Bacchic, 
 Halted amid these ladies Sapphic ; 
 And Popkin — (ye have all heard tell 
 Of Popkin, hatter, in Pall Mall — 
 This Popkin is the eldest hope — 
 The second brother deals in soap) — 
 And Popkin took — O, dira fata I 
 Freedoms with Ching-'s inamorata. 
 Sudden Ching turn'd, his eyes on fire 
 (Such things in Siam wrath inspire). 
 And spluttering out some new-learn'd oath, 
 Smote the bold Popkin on the mouth. 
 
 " A ring ! a battle !" Popkin cries, 
 
 And quite mistaking one for t' otherj 
 Returns the blow on Chang's raised eyes — 
 
 Raised — all superior to this " pother ;" 
 Then Chang's wrath rose, he looked much troubled, 
 And instantly /bwr fists were doubled : 
 So fond we English are for dangers. 
 
 And for abusive words preparing. 
 That the twin arts we teach to strangers, 
 
 Are always fistycufFs and swearing. 
 
 St. George ! most dreadfld and most furious 
 Would sure have been this combat curious, 
 Had not, just as our brothers, finely 
 Backing each other, squared divinely, 
 Doubting whom first their strength should level, 
 
 A shout, " The watch ! the watch !" arose, 
 And in an instant, where the devil ?-— 
 
 Yes — ^where the devil were their foes t 
 The girls were fled, the men were flying, 
 Popkin alone still stood defying ; 
 But Popkin was a man long-headed. 
 And blows his pulse had greatly steadied— 
 
CHAP, in.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 133 
 
 The young Ulysses of his country, 
 He mingled cunning with effrontery— 
 So when he saw the invidious watchmen, 
 Like human spiders made to catch men, 
 Towards them he walked, and bade them note 
 Blood on his mouth and muslin'd throat, 
 Show'd the aggressors in the Pair, 
 And gave them to the Charley's care — 
 Smoothing away the watchman's qualms 
 With three drops from the oil of Palms, 
 Bid him then keep the brothers chary. 
 For justice, and Sir Peter Laurie ; 
 Swearing he 'd come, and, to their sorroWr 
 Prove the assault in court to-morrow ; 
 And quite, the watchmen to engage, 
 Rouse them to sympathetic rage. 
 And make them for his injuries feel, 
 He gave his name as — " Robert Peel !" 
 This done, he stalked away, — the fiat 
 
 Of the stern watchmen did not find 
 The Twins agreed to go in quiet 
 
 To " ills they knew not of" resigned — 
 They struggled long, they struggled hard ; 
 Nor need'st thou now learn from the bard — 
 It was the Brothers whom the brave 
 But ill-starr'd Hodges failed to save. 
 
 Behold them now within the keeping 
 
 Of that — Night's rudest- — ward of sorrow; 
 Around them Vice lies drouthly sleeping. 
 
 And Misery, shivering, dreads the morrow ! 
 Ah, this wrong world ! where'er we turn, 
 
 Life finds the same too faithful mirror ; 
 One penance everywhere we learn. 
 
 Misfortune still confounds with Error* 
 G 
 
134 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK II. 
 
 Let him whom Want hath proven, sit 
 
 Alone in judgment on his fellows — 
 Ev'n Blame, by true Experience lit. 
 
 Grows warm, and to Compassion mellows. 
 Mirth's well a graver Truth may boast 
 
 Than aught which lurks in Melancholy ; 
 And they who laugh at Folly most, 
 
 Most often daunt the WoVld from Folly ! 
 
 BND OF BOOK TflE SECOND 
 
BOOK THE THIRD. 
 
 GZ 
 
INTRODUCTORY LINES TO BOOK THE THIRD. 
 
 TO THE GRAVE. 
 
 Hearken, O Grave ! beneath me lying ; 
 
 Hearken — my heart shall speak to thee ! 
 I know not whose the dust supplying 
 
 Thy red and creeping progeny : 
 No stone is there ; the swathing willow 
 Curtains alone the Sleeper's pillow. ' 
 But boots it who that couch may claim ? 
 Thy homilies remain the same ! 
 And round thee vibrates the unsolid 
 
 And soft air with a moral deep ; 
 And voices vague and disembodied, 
 
 O'er thee a fearful vigil keep. 
 Preacher and Prophet — to imbibe 
 
 Thy lore, itself the spirit husheth. 
 And swift and noiselessly, a tribe 
 
 Of Dreams into the Silence rusheth. 
 But dreams like his whose burning lips 
 Reveal'd the dread Apocalypse, 
 Glassing — -though in a troublous mirror-r- 
 
 The dim but starry truths of Fate, 
 Weird shadows of that World of Terror— 
 
 Or Love — to which thou art the Gate ? 
 
 Tell me, O Grave ! 
 When to thy slave 
 The black-robed laugher Death — 
 
138 TIIK »IAME»E TWINH. [noOK HI. 
 
 t 
 
 And to ilio Air, Eartli, Firo, and Wave, 
 
 Thitt <luHt, tv.fUirnH i\u'. I)n;;it.li ; 
 Toll MH), hIihII sih^IiI, wliicJi inay bo poured 
 
 From iriy hoiiI'h j^iiHliin^ w<;ll, 
 Hcyond lliy rciucfi awliilo l)(! wtorcd, 
 
 And How — my ( Miroiiifrlo'f 
 ltiiariri|i( upon ii.H wavo utibrok(;u 
 A living — Uioii/jjli no lofty l.okriii 
 
 'rh;il, I liav(! lov(!d triy Umva', I 
 And l.lial, llicir tyramiicH and iorrorH, 
 Tij<5 mon«UfrH ol" ihc'ir Moll-MoiigJit orrora 
 
 llavc- had (or nui no jsnaco ? 
 Thai, n(!V(;r Minc.hM my IrarhiHM Nooru 
 
 With Follv in iho ficdd 1 
 Thai. I.o my mdtcd hoarl, waH worn 
 
 "Miin'H VVcHarf!" i^i-t ilH HhiohIT 
 That — nor th(5 llannor nor tho Hand 
 
 Wliirh venal rli;irn|)ionH may (hifcnd — 
 I Houglit ! — (Content, alono I.o Ntand 
 
 And malu'. my woid my friend? 
 
 And whculorc more? -IIm; ((ImmmI hlarnn, 
 'l"he jidiewiirm and the lovv-lnealird praiHC, 
 
 Tho ni^;gard and reinotunl fames 
 
 The nneven Hv<\\i'. l\\ni faJHeiy wei^lm, 
 
 Milu.i (Mir (Mid and meariw ; l.ln; lieH 
 
 That IdloNMo HnIh and Wrath Hn]>pli(^H; 
 
 TheMo 7mfi/ hav«! Hlin^M the l)(»H(Mn fe(dH, 
 
 Hnt, h(! c-an eoiKiiier who eoncjials ; 
 
 And (jod hath armour for th<rmiiul 
 
 That war« on (JuHtom for Mankind 1 
 
 A« one) who c.omhatw from a tower, 
 
 llo p(nnH hiH Htren^lh helow, 
 WhoHo height in Trul.h'H hehsiguerVl power, 
 
 WhoH(! fooH— aro Vice and Wo I 
 
BOOK THE THIRD. 
 
 CIIAl'J'ER I. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Chang and Ching before the Justice— Ching's defence— A new difficulty ; how 
 removed — Julian's opportune appearance — ^Jiilian returns home — Lines on 
 Burns — On the wrong done men of genius — The imaginatiye rarely love 
 with a human and real passion — But if they do so love, and the love be 
 formed in early youth, the preternatural strength and ardour of the feeling 
 — Our first love compared to our first play — State of Julian's mind — Altera- 
 tion in his manner and aspect — Digressive allusion to the wizards of old — 
 Julian's resolution to seek his fortune in India— The lovers occasionally meet. 
 
BOOK THE THIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The morning now begins to press on ; 
 
 The Nursery maidens home repair ; 
 Yonng Gentlemen resume their lesson ; 
 
 And the stern Justice takes his chair. 
 Some half a dozen cases hurried ; 
 Some half a dozen wretches worried _; 
 Some half a dozen of the worst off 
 Culprits to prison justly thrust off; 
 Base varlets with such ragged breeches, 
 The very Treadmill for them itches. 
 Some half a dozen so respectable 
 That Justice is not to suspect able, 
 Paying the wonted fine, and giving 
 Seemly account of mode of living, 
 Dismissed, break through the cobweb, leaving 
 
 To Fate the poorer class of Fly ; 
 Whom Justice— that old spider— grieving 
 Much for their guilt, condemns for thieving 
 Upon the very web she 's weaving, 
 And eats them up while they reply ! 
 
 These previous cases heard, they bring 
 Before his worship Chang and Ching. 
 Loudly the watchmen made complaint 
 Of blows that might have roused a saint j 
 G3 
 
143 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK III. 
 
 Asking if now the luckless watch 
 Your single rogues could scarcely catch, 
 What in Heaven's name must be the trouble 
 To catch the rascals gomg double ! 
 They begged of Vice so bold a sample 
 Might now be made a dread example. 
 Or else, the sage Police were sure 
 The thing would spread beyond a cure ; 
 And every rascal in shoe-leather 
 Would go thus hook-and-eyed together. 
 Nay, not content perhaps with pairing. 
 Set romid like jewels in a rare ring, 
 Thieve— murder — ay, and rape in musters. 
 And hang at last like grapes in clusters. 
 
 Gxavely the Justice heard the speech, 
 
 Gravely the Justice eyed the two, 
 Gravely the Justice frowned on each. 
 
 And said — " Young men, 't is very true ! 
 " Your crime, you cannot but be sensible, 
 " At present seems quite indefensible ; 
 " Appearances are aggravated, 
 " Your being thus so strangely mated ;. 
 " A circumstance, which, if not vicious, 
 ** At least must be allowed suspicious ! 
 " Perhaps you can explain, and state your 
 " Reasons for this* strange trick of Nature.* 
 "If you can give of all this mystery 
 " A full account and lionesi history, 
 " Our laws will do you naught of ill — 
 " If not — they send you to the Mill !" 
 
 * We must be careful how we consider ttiere is any exaggeration in tliis 
 harangue ; how we censure the author for too broad a caricature, or the 
 justice for too harsh a vein of reasoning. Arc the Siamese the only men con- 
 dejaaned for what it often happens Nature has been alone to blame ? Do none 
 owe crime to the example of parents, the stings of famine, and a variety of cir- 
 cumstances oyer which tho culprits had no control? Poverty ties men to 
 guilt, as the bone united Chang to Ching. And a poor devij born beneath the 
 Q;own of fortuae is hung because it continues. 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TMTINS. t43 
 
 The Justice ceased — tlic brothers stared — 
 
 Neither for answer was prepared. 
 Bewilderment and f'eaj; Ching muzzled, 
 And ev'n sage Chang looked vastly puzzled. 
 
 Chang was the first to recollect 
 His spirits into full cflect ; 
 Stoutly tlie stalwart Justice eying, 
 And lashing wrath into replying, 
 
 He 'd just upon the lip the word ; 
 "When Ching, tho' still confused, nor knowing 
 Well what to say he now was going, 
 
 But all impatient to be heard. 
 Cried oul — and while affection frred him. 
 His mother wit not ill inspired hhu : — 
 
 " I madf! tho row, sir, 1 alone, 
 
 " While Chang was gazing on the sky, sir ; 
 " He press'd me greatly to come on, 
 
 " Hut — such a girl was in .ny eye, sir ! 
 " And so not deeming it could hurt 
 " You, or your laws, I stopped to flirt ; 
 " And tho' my weakness you may blame, sir, 
 " Perhaps you might have done the same, sir." 
 
 The Justice smiled — ev'n English cadis 
 
 Are rarely prudes al)out the ladies. 
 
 Ching sees, and boldly he renews — 
 
 " Well, sir, and while we thus amuse 
 
 " Ourselves, come by some lawless strangers,, 
 
 *' Who turn delight, sir, into dangers. 
 
 " Nay, one of these uncourteous foes 
 
 " Had put quite out of joint my nose ; 
 
 " But that' 1 chmchcd, in wrath and trouble,, 
 
 *' The fists 1 lately learn'd to double ; 
 
144 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK HL 
 
 " Then a few blows exchanged, sir — then 
 
 " A seizure by these gentlemen ; 
 
 " A night, sir, in a shocking hole, 
 
 " And now, you see, you know the whole ! 
 
 • 
 
 " But one word more ; — in this affair, 
 " If I have sinned, my sin not knowing, 
 
 " Such penance I consent to bear 
 
 " As you may deem it worth bestowing ; 
 
 " But he — my brother — no offence 
 
 " Committed ; you must let Jiim hence ! 
 
 " Take me to prison, if you please, 
 
 " But first this gentleman release ; 
 
 " And while to jailthe guilty sending, 
 
 " Take heed, nor touch the unoffending! 
 
 Ching ceased ; the court was in a grin — 
 The tranquil Justice stroked his chin, 
 And asked the night's superior saint if 
 The court did now contaigithe plaintiff? 
 But Popkin wisely not appearing, 
 He straight dismissed ail farther hearing : 
 " Young men, you may go where you please., 
 " Reform your ways — and pay your fees !" 
 
 AJas ! how in the world we 're made ! for 
 Sins conquered, really are sins paid for ! 
 We break a head, inspired by wine. 
 What plasters up the wound? — a fine ! 
 We steal a wife — we foul a name — 
 What mends the matter? — still the same.! 
 In notes her sentence law dispenses, 
 And justice only means expenses. 
 But, oh ! — conceive our Twins' dismay — 
 They 'd not enough the fees to pay ! 
 However, Fate, who kills most lame 
 Dogs, ill this case assumed a smile ; 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS, 14g 
 
 And in a human shape she came 
 
 To help our lame dogs o'er the stile ! 
 
 It chanced that <!Laneham all night long 
 Had wander'd houseless, and despairing ; 
 
 And passing homeward now, the throng 
 Around the office entrance staring, 
 His way uncourteously impeding, 
 Aroused the sense— -tili then of aught unheeding. 
 So, as he moved, he heard the loud 
 And guessing wonder of the crowd, 
 " Two join'd together, head and foot — I 
 " Saw them myself, they look so sooty." 
 
 These words, and more resembling these, 
 
 Serve Laneham wholly to awake : 
 " What if they are our Siamese ! 
 
 " One look for hers, for Mary's sake !" 
 He thought, and pushing -through the press — 
 Reader, yourself the rest may guess!. 
 But know, in short, the fees were paid ; 
 
 And, not your interests keen to starve, I 
 Must add, the Twins were home convey'd, 
 
 In the cool shelter of a Jarvey ! 
 
 This kindness done, his way once more 
 JuUan renew'd, and gained his door. 
 
 To his lone room he pass'd ; and o'er 
 
 The stairs his step fell heavily; 
 His knit and gloomy visage wore 
 
 That which ye would have feared to see. 
 
 Something there is in man's despair, 
 
 More fearful than his y.ery wrath ; 
 Cope hot Revenge — but aye beware 
 
 To cross calm Suffering's lonely pathj 
 
146 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK HI* 
 
 Dreader than all the passions* strife. 
 The solemn absence of their life ; 
 That ghole of silence and of gloom, 
 Which darkly broods above their torsi) 1 
 
 He sat him down ; and quietly 
 Cast round a dini, half-unconscious eye. 
 There left, as when they last address'd 
 The charmed gaze, and thirsting breast, 
 Lay the lov'd volumes, where the souls 
 
 Of the great Dead walk gloriously ; 
 The Edens of the Mind ; the goals 
 
 Of mortal immortality ; — 
 The stately Arks that from the deep,. 
 
 Garner the life for worlds to be ;^ 
 And with their glorious burthen sweep 
 
 Adown dark Time's unfathom'd sea ! 
 
 Amid less lovely lore, the page 
 
 Lay open where the Ploughman's Song 
 Incarnates Thought ; and o'er the age 
 
 To which its noble lays belong ;— 
 O'er the low city, and lewd court ; 
 
 O'er the slight tricks of worldly gaud ; 
 O'er the wing'd follies, that disport * 
 
 In life's vexed atmosphere of fraud ; 
 Casts out the broad and generous glow, 
 
 Where Nature shameis Art's garish seeming ;. 
 Yet, while it shames, doth still bestow 
 
 Not more a shame than a redeemingo. 
 Shedding a glory round their urns. 
 Who breathed the air that breathed for Burns. * 
 
 Oh ! wise — wise fools, whose tender art 
 So coldly probed each fault that died 
 
 With its own blood that generous heart ; — 
 Who, in your grateful thought,, denied. 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 14T 
 
 To him whose memory yet exalts 
 Man's mould— ay, in those very faults — 
 To him, who like an Air from Heaven 
 
 Breath'd life and glory on your way; 
 The mercy and the silence given 
 
 Of right, unto the humblest clay.* 
 In life's cool walk, if one hath bless'd 
 A single, just, or grateful breast ; 
 Yet hath, in error, stung or saddened 
 The breast his customed bounty gladdened, 
 Say — were it thine — wouldst thou resent 1 
 Would Love or Anger find a vent ? 
 Say — would it not thy heart relieve,. 
 To have one memory to forgive ? 
 
 But He, who serves all earth, — whose mind 
 
 Stars the dark wanderings of mankind ; 
 
 And from lone Thought's empyrean height, 
 
 Exalts the soul, its glories light. 
 
 For him, nD grateful memory lives ; 
 
 No justice weighs, no love forgives ; 
 
 For him, the Universal Eye, 
 
 Each heart he cheered hath grown his spy. 
 
 The very lustre of his fame 
 
 Betrays the specks upon his name ; 
 
 * All mankind to whom, even mei^iately and through unseen chaimels, the 
 glorious verse of Robert Burns can reach, have incurred a debt of gratitude, 
 and that no slight one, to Mr. Lockhart, w^ho has honoured literature (in his 
 Biography of that illustrious Poet) with a work full of just, and manly, and 
 noble sentiment. Ic is difficult, indeed, to command one's indignation, when 
 one hears fine gentlemen critics, who sin delicately, and grow elevate oa 
 Chamhertin — and to whom we owe no earthly gratitude, and no earthly in- 
 dulgence—talk, between snuff-takings, of the immoralities of Burns. Every 
 country squire, and city clerk, and puny dandyling may enjoy in quiet his 
 loves and his intoxications; they are but the proofs of his spirit, or obediences 
 to the manners of his time. But if Burns, the benefactor of the world (for 
 whom reverence should induce indulgence), does what they do who are its 
 drones ; — then come pages of sermons, and mawkish lecturings, and judg- 
 ments righteously severe. Every sword of the Pharisees leaps out of its 
 scabbard. One would think, to hear them, that it is a great pity a man ot 
 genius should not be bora without flesh and blood. 
 
il48 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK HI. 
 
 The columns of his triumph stand, 
 As pEisquijis for each vulgar hand. 
 For him the wonted shades which hide 
 Home's reverent secrets, are denied,* 
 Exposed, dissected, canvass'd o'er, 
 Each household wound and hidden sore.^ 
 His very heart hung forth a prey 
 ' To the sharp-tongued " remorseless day." 
 The temple he hath built will yield 
 For him alone no shrine to shield : 
 Nay, round the altar where he flieth, 
 The coil'd and venom'd slander lieth— ;■ 
 Crush'd by the serpents of his doom, 
 Behold his Temple walls his Tomb ! 
 
 Not these the thoughts that o'er the soul 
 Of the young student-lover stole, 
 All books — all matter of all thought, 
 Save one — to him were dead and naught ; 
 And an ice lay o'er his mind, 
 And his heart was duU'd and blind. 
 
 I have thought that those who live 
 In the world, their fancies give, 
 Musing and self-conning spirits, 
 Whom desire by right inherits. 
 For desire is that we learn. 
 Which must ever vainly t yearn ; 
 And such natures, vision-bowed, 
 Clasp a god in every cloud ; — 
 
 * Between the publicitj- of rank and that of genius there is this difference— 
 -'the fornier has its consolation in a thousand liLxuries — the home revealed is a 
 palace; but genius, often girt with want, mortification, privation, disease, be- 
 holds its frailties and its secrets dragged to light, and looking within for com- 
 fort, views but the scene of struggles, and the witness ci huouliation. 
 
 t .Jiobbes. 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 149 
 
 I have thought that these obey 
 
 Rarely human passion's sway, 
 
 Fining for imaginings, 
 
 Whose earthly shapes Fate never brings, 
 
 Only in that mystic time 
 
 Of the green youth's teeming prime, 
 
 When the Prophet heart's delight 
 
 Yields the sense " a second sight," 
 
 And the gentle earth is riven, 
 
 And its faery kingdoms bare. 
 And we hear the harps of Heaven 
 
 In the low breath of the air ; — 
 Only in the brief and fleeting 
 Sorcery of that sweet self-cheating : 
 If such spirits chance to glow 
 With a deep love born below ; 
 And that love be duly plighted, 
 And that love untimely blighted, 
 Then no earthlier nature e'er 
 KneAV their rapture, their despair ; 
 Knew the dreams that round them tended, 
 
 Breath'd to being at their call ; 
 Knew the height their hearts ascended. 
 
 Or the dreadness of the fall. 
 
 First love is like our earliest Play ! 
 What enchantment of survey ! 
 Every scene and whisper giveth 
 Life that monarch never liveth. 
 What a magic of amaze 
 In the passion of the gaze ! 
 What a transport in the fear. 
 That can soul the panting ear ! 
 Heavily the curtain's pall 
 Slow descendeth over all. 
 
150 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK III. 
 
 And the Music's voice is gone, 
 And the lights fade one by one ; 
 And upon the glory past, 
 Rushes the black- winged Silence fast ! 
 Yet, vainly yet, in Memory's cell. 
 Echoes, and haunts for aye the spell ! 
 Oft again our souls will woo it, 
 But, remembering, ne'er renew it ; 
 
 Oft again we seek the stage — 
 
 But the magiq was the age ! 
 
 And the scene has lost its glory, 
 
 And the zest has left the story ! 
 
 Love and Plays are oft repeated, 
 
 But no more the gaze is cheated I 
 
 And all after-charm is curs'd, 
 
 By the contrast of the first! 
 
 But Julian's heart was proud and stern, 
 
 And in its silent depth conceal'd 
 A spirit ever wont to yearn 
 
 For action in some broader fieldi 
 And when the brooding mist at last 
 From his dark mind in shadow pass'd, 
 Designs, and schemes, those homes of care. 
 Bold, but as yet half shaped, were there ; 
 As some gray city dim descried 
 
 Through the moist dawn's slow-waning haze. 
 When broke, and scatter'd faint and wide. 
 
 The world beneath some sleepless eye surveys 1 
 He turn'd him with a silent heart. 
 
 Unto the daily cares of clay. 
 The dullest breast can act its part, 
 
 When sorrow is the play. 
 But those who knew him mark'd the soul 
 
 Was absent from his quiet eye ; 
 The smile at will he might control. 
 
 But not at tunes the sigh. 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 151 
 
 And never as of old, the smile ! 
 
 It chill'd, it saddened while it shone, 
 Like lights we only kindle, while 
 
 The life of day is gone. 
 From his youth upward he had fed 
 
 On lonely, but on daring thought. 
 And now the altering charm was fled, 
 
 His ancient food he sought ; 
 Oft would he sit for hours and mark 
 
 The wan moon creep her weary way, 
 And hold communion, sad and dark, 
 
 With that true Genius of our clay, 
 Urger of Hope — Wo — Virtue — Sin — 
 The unsleeping Second-Self within ! 
 And, when the morning came, you saw 
 
 Upon his cheek the haggard brand. 
 Which one might bear, whose spell could draw 
 
 The Spirit from its land. 
 The fallen lip, the harass'd brow. 
 
 The wrung exhaustion, and the awe ! 
 
 Alas ! the soul has fiends that sear 
 As dreadly the consuming frame 
 
 As aught, escaped from Nature's law, 
 That ever to the cavern came 
 
 Of those whose kingly charm could bow, 
 . Of old, the monster-powers of Fear! 
 Whose daring souls were nerved to brave 
 The dark things of the riven grave ; 
 Girt with the menaced fire, to breast 
 The lightnings of the armed Priest ; 
 Trample the fears of nature — quell 
 The flesh, by one immortal spell. 
 And shake the very Thrones of Hell ! 
 Arch Rebels of our tyrant Birth — 
 The more than monarchs of the earth, 
 
153 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK lU^ 
 
 Humbling that dread and shadowy world, 
 Around our owti so dimly curled ; 
 Who, mightier than the Heathen's God, 
 From Fate herself usurped the rod. 
 And made her rent recess the cells, 
 Voiced with a mortal's oracles. 
 Sceptring the mysteries of the deep, 
 The WTiirlwinds in their Mountain-keep ; 
 The Seasons in their rounded march, 
 The wan Kings of the starred Arch ; 
 Eapt above Nature and o'er Time, 
 By lore too glorious to be crime ! 
 
 Days went ; and Julian's schemes at last, 
 From their completing mould were cast. 
 And fixed the bourn on Indian soil, 
 "Wliere Wealth might sometime yield to Toil. 
 And wealth was precious in his eyes, 
 For wealth might win to love the prize. 
 
 Improved are now the bribes of old, 
 Since Danae was seduced by gold — 
 You want the daughter ? — well then, rather 
 Shower the gold upon the father ! 
 
 And, tho' not oft, oiu" lovers yet, 
 By stealth, and for brief moments, met — 
 Ah ! meetings which are traced in tears, 
 And hopes just bom — are tomb'd in fears ! 
 
 Oh ! what a soft and lovely shroud 
 
 Of thouofht hangs o'er such mouniiul meeting? 
 The grief consoled — the comfort vow'd — 
 
 Are memories far too fond for fleeting. 
 
 As some benign and gentle shade 
 Our wo itself hath sacred made, 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 165 
 
 They wander with as, and invite 
 
 Our steps to no unholy rite ; 
 
 Wearing the mystery of the tomb, 
 
 Its tenderness — but not its gloom ! 
 They glide athwart our manhood's cares, 
 
 And care is hush'd ! — they haunt our sins, 
 And sin grows soft! — our hopes — our prayers — * 
 
 All interest sways — or passion wins— 
 Or Fancy dreams those thoughts suffuse 
 With their own loved and faithful hues ! 
 They bathe, for aye, the surface sere 
 That crusts upon us year by year ; 
 And, as unto our youth they brought 
 The lesson which by Age is taught. 
 So now, m turn, they seem to bring 
 Our Age — sweet whispers from the spring I 
 Flock round our pillow at life's close, 
 And in our very grave repose ! 
 
 The lovers met, and Julian still 
 Soothed Mary's dim forefears of ill ; 
 Spoke hopes which rugged Reason bade not, 
 ^: And poured the comfort which he had not. 
 
 And when he told how years would pass 
 
 But love remain — and he return 
 Rich as her sire could wish — alas ! 
 
 She thought not of the early urn 
 Such hopes too often find ! — the wide 
 
 Dark gulf between, she scarcely viewed ;- 
 She looked at once beyond Time's tide. 
 And saw them once more side by side, 
 
 As now they fondly stood ! 
 So would they meet, and hope, and rais^ 
 Fair morrows to the evil days ; 
 
154 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK HI. 
 
 And in her youth and innocence, 
 
 She dream'd not love could need defence. 
 
 She knew not why so wildly trembled 
 
 His hand, if only touch'd by hers ; 
 The wish by Passion oft dissembled, 
 
 If true, for ever it incurs. — 
 As hearths — as fuel without fire — 
 Man's love that would diso^vn desire ! 
 
 And there was peril in the hour, 
 
 And place, and silence, of their meeting — 
 
 Eve, and its .star, and that soft power 
 That sway'd their pulses' fitful beating. 
 
 Nature below, and shade above, — ** 
 
 And they — their young hearts and their love ! 
 
 And never was a lovelier breast 
 Than hers by youthful ardour press'd ; 
 And never did a dreamier eye 
 Look back to love unknown reply. 
 
 Oh ! what is that divine, intense, 
 And holy soul within the sense — 
 That can control — restrain — inspire 
 The deafened fierceness of desire — 
 That can the wildest wish of clay, > 
 The strength — the ^eZ/" of Nature sway. 
 And make us rather bear — yea, cling 
 To the unslak'd and sleepless sting — 
 Than bid one pang that Being prove, 
 Lov'd more than all the ends of Love ? 
 And she was saved — nor knew how nigh 
 The doom she never sought to fly ! — - 
 Ev'n with her fair cheek on his breast — • 
 Ev'n with her ripe lips warm from his, 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 155 
 
 So nearly, and so wildly bless'd — 
 
 There was a barrier to the bliss — > 
 A soul itself that nobly prided 
 To shield the fond heart that confided ! 
 
 So time went on his silent way, 
 And brought in sight the fatal day ; 
 And now but one brief moon will fail, 
 Ere Julian's ship unfurl her sail ; 
 And the frail plank, and faithless sea. 
 Become, poor girl ! a world to thee ! 
 
BOOK THE THIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 H 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Melancholy plays the schoolmaster to Mirth— The curious and perplexhig 
 dilemma of the Twins — Their escape — The world not free from the misfor- 
 tunes of Chang and Ching — ^The conversation between Julian and Chang- 
 Love — The immortality of the soul, &c. — Chang often seeks a renewal of 
 that conversation— The ancient philosophers— The Boudhist religion— The 
 state of Chang's mind on religious matters. 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 159 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 One evening, Jiilian, homeward walking, 
 
 Beheld afar a gathering crowd ; 
 And on his ear, the storm of talking 
 
 Broke quite " inelegantly loud."* 
 When one is suffering from blue devils, 
 Noise — mobs — are most tremendous evils ! ■:^ 
 How very much one's Melancholy 
 Turns up her nose at vulgar Folly ! 
 How very bitterly she quarrels 
 With Mirth's sad sentiments and morals ! 
 Calls Joy hard names, and swears 't is very 
 Silly, and wicked to be merry. 
 
 So Julian, when the crowd he spied. 
 Would fain have sourly turn'd aside. 
 Muttering against folk's strange fatuity, 
 
 In wasting time and cracking jokes 
 With su(ih provoking assiduity 
 
 On the concerns of other folks. 
 Instead of walking lone, and pouting. 
 Whether to drown or dangle doubting ; 
 Fate and her thousand vagaries cursing, 
 And Spleen affectionately nursing : 
 Shock'd like himself at aught of gladness, 
 And bearing life with proper sadness. 
 Lanehara had turn'd aside, I say, 
 When suddenly the crowd gave way, 
 
 * Lady ****** was good enough to fashion the above phrase for me. 
 Her Ladyship cannot endure a mob to be the least vulgar; in her works she 
 appears quite affronted at their not wearing silk stockings, and shouting hurrah I 
 ^in a whisper. 
 
 H2 
 
160 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK III. 
 
 And wrangling in the midst he sees — 
 
 By Jove ! — our luckless Siamese. 
 
 Some are, who seem, beyond all succour, 
 
 Destined for ever to a pucker ; 
 
 In vain to-day they may escape, 
 
 To-morrow brings an uglier scrape ; 
 
 Through life they plunge, strive, pant, and squabble. 
 
 And death still finds them* in a hobble. 
 
 Somewhat of this sad species I am 
 
 Afraid you '11 think our Twins of Siam. 
 
 Laneham walk'd up and ask'd the matter? 
 A hundred tongues reply in clatter ! 
 But long ere silence was obtained, 
 This much at least he ascertained : — 
 A sergeant tall wished to convey 
 
 Off Chang, well able to prevail, if 
 Ching were not dragged the other way 
 
 In the d d clutches of a baUiff I 
 
 The fact was, Ching, who 'd ever had 
 
 Expensive habits from a lad. 
 
 And, since his entree into fashion, 
 
 Had loved, like other beaux, to dash on, 
 
 Now reap'd Profusion's sad results, 
 
 In an arrest from Mr. Stultz ! 
 
 The bailiff seized him at the time 
 
 When Chang, in whose unconscious, cold ear, 
 Brave Sergeant Drill had the sublime 
 
 And gay profession of a soldier 
 Been dinning, found himself imbruted 
 With ale, and, by the lord, recruited! 
 We wanted then some gallants tall, 
 A Corps of Heroes for Bengal ; 
 And Drill believed himself no dunce. 
 In bagging two such birds at once. 
 
CHAP, n.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 161 
 
 Well sure, that to enlist one brother 
 Was quite enough to win the. other. 
 Never, I ween, did War and Law 
 Their several ways more drolly draw. 
 Grappled on Chang the man of slaughters I 
 
 The sturdy bailiff grappled on Ching ! 
 The one puU'd this way to his quarters, 
 
 The other that way to the Spunging ! 
 While our astonish'd swarthy sad men, 
 
 Unconscious of the scrape they 'd got in, 
 Thought what a dangerous band of madmen 
 
 Fate suddenly had cast their lot in ! 
 Much were they charm'd, you may suppose, 
 
 When they beheld their guardian Laneham, 
 Once more at hand against their foes, 
 
 So opportunely to sustain 'em. 
 
 If e'er you want a friend to free, 
 
 Whom in a street-row you may see. 
 
 Two things are only necessary, 
 
 The first to be well dressed, and very : 
 
 The second, to combine decorum 
 
 With a most copious vis verborum.* 
 
 Luckily Laneham both possessed, 
 
 And first the Sergeant he addressed : 
 
 " Take off your new recruit, nor spare him ; 
 
 ** But hark you, sir, if you molest 
 " This other gentleman, or bear him 
 
 " Against his will — at your behest — 
 " Ay — but a single step from hence, sir, 
 t< Why, tremble at the consequence, sir. 
 *' What !" and he tum'd unto the crowd, 
 Rais'd his right hand and spoke more loud. 
 
 * Anglice, "gift of words,"-^that of which, in order to endow the Irisfe, 
 Nature has, with great iniquity, cheated their neighhours the Enf lish. 
 
 ■*►■ 
 
162 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IH- 
 
 " Shall we see men served thus and be dumb t 
 
 " Where 's Magna Charta ? where our freedom I 
 
 " What ! is a military varlet, 
 
 " Glowing with insolence and scarlet, 
 
 " Our rights and privileges civil 
 
 " To kick, at pleasure, to the devil ; 
 
 " Drag a freeman against his wish on, 
 
 " To be the food for ammunition ; • 
 
 " And treat with worse than Turk's brutality, 
 
 " This guest of British hospitality 1 
 
 " Shame ! shame !" 
 
 " Ay, shame !" on every side, 
 tShopboy and oyster virgin cried. 
 
 The attics groaned their lofty blame, 
 
 And from the stalls came hoarsely — " Shame !" 
 
 Ev'n so, of late, the thieving crew, 
 
 Who, Eldon-like, love nothing new, 
 
 No more allowed to rob in peace. 
 
 Made London ring with " No Police !" 
 
 While stones — O shame to England ! — flew 
 
 Around the Chief of Waterloo ; 
 
 And in the very street whose name 
 
 Is borrowed from the veteran's fame ; 
 
 Meaning — (like those sharp speeches wont 
 
 To shower on Hume's unshrinking front, 
 
 What time he lifts the veil from jobbing),—- 
 
 " O wretch, to interfere with robbing !" 
 
 Stiff stood the Sergeant — stiff and stately. 
 But puzzled much, and funking greatly ; 
 A pump at hand he thought he saw ; 
 Besides, he did not know the law ! 
 While solemnly he scratched his head. 
 Thus to the Bailiff Laneham said : 
 " There is your prisoner, bo it so ! 
 
 " But where your warrant 'gainst the other ! 
 
 9M» - ^* 
 
GHAP. n.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 
 
 « Of course the penalties you know, 
 
 " If you, by chance, lock up the brother. 
 " Of course you know, for such infraction 
 « Of law, we bring at once our action. 
 « So mind you are your proper cue in, 
 " A false imprisonment is ruin ; 
 " On a man's freedom all infringing 
 " Is met by damages most swinging. 
 " If you persist, and should defend 
 ',* Your cause — I beg to recommend. 
 (" They '11 help you finely through your blunder) 
 « Messieurs Rack, Gripe, Grasp, Clutch, and Plunder." 
 
 The Sergeant did the silence break, 
 
 " Give me my money back," said he ; 
 Then next in whispered voice did speak. 
 
 The Bailiff hinting at a fee. 
 The money back Chang slowly gave, - 
 
 Still puzzled with all this verbosity, 
 -And said, with brow extremely grave, 
 
 " So this is English generosity !" 
 
 Laneham, meanwhile, the Bailiff's palm 
 Touch'd, and dissolved all farther qualm. 
 And lo ! our Twins, once more releas'd, 
 Walked from " The many-headed heasV 
 So by the upper ranks the mob 
 
 Is somewhat impolitely branded ; 
 What sort of beast then is the Nob- 
 ility? Oh! ^' The many-handed r 
 
 While vdth their friend to his abode, 
 Our Indians saunter on the road. 
 Just let us — ere we do pursue — 
 Make a remark — we think it true. 
 
 # 
 
 •# 
 
164 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK lU. 
 
 Tho' laws when framed with so much trouble, 
 Scarcely foresaw men going double, 
 Otherwise, doubtless, one might bring 
 Cases quite pat to Chang and Ching, 
 And solve by precedent the urgent. 
 Hard point of bailiff and of sergeant ; 
 Yet just as full of contradiction 
 
 For us poor single folk as them. 
 Are those blunt puzzles of restriction, 
 
 Which tangle first and then condemn. 
 
 One pulls this way — and that the other — 
 One grapples this, but frees that brother ; 
 Yet in this social state, so close 
 Knit are our welfare and our woes. 
 That who shall say, what comes to thee, 
 Shall bring nor scathe nor chain to me ? 
 Bewildered and confused we stand, 
 Opposing laws on either hand. 
 And our innumerous customs die. 
 Into the Passive of one Lie ; 
 And that is Jife — as we 've disguised it, 
 And gravely said that Heaven devised it. 
 
 Mark, and at times through our narration 
 
 A latent sense may meet thy view ! 
 What seems most like exaggeration. 
 
 Clothes oft the fact most simply true ! 
 
 Where are our Twins ] far — far before-— 
 I 'm quite ashamed so long we 've tarried, 
 
 See them to Julian's small first floor. 
 In C— Street already carried. 
 
 See them beside his table sitting — 
 
 Chang in deep thought, his dark brow knitting — 
 
bHAP. 11.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 16S 
 
 * Ching sipping port — I fear not AUnutt's — 
 And cracking pleasure out of walnuts. 
 
 While Julian thinks in Chang to view 
 
 A vein of kindred cogitation, 
 And enters with that youth into 
 
 A sentimental conversation : 
 They talked of Love, the lord of earth. 
 Its power — its mystery — rand its birth ; 
 Both apt its colours to enhance 
 With the rich moonlight of romance. 
 
 " Yes," Jidian said,. " yes — oft, methinks, 
 " There is in love the germ of more 
 " Than our philosophies explore. 
 " I speak not of the end acquired, 
 *' When the soul rests — where it desired ; 
 " But ere the end be gained— what bright 
 " But half-caught Visions haunt the sight ! 
 *' Back into shade the vision shrinks, 
 " But not its memory of delight ! 
 
 "Flock thousand dim and faery feelings, 
 
 " Love only wakes, our spirit o'er ; 
 " Vague thoughts we fain would call revealiiigs, 
 
 " The stars grow lovelier than before ; 
 " From our earth's clay a cloud is driven, 
 "And we gaze oftener on the heaven. 
 " There the soft instinct seems to win us ; 
 *' Something, new-kindled, stirs within us ; 
 " The lesser and the lower aims 
 " Of life, the ennobled heart disclaims ; 
 " The fervour in its very faults 
 " Refines, and mellows, and exalts. 
 " We lose the sense of self, we glow 
 " With a vague love for all below : 
 
 H3 
 
166 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IK* 
 
 " More generous impulse swells the thought, 
 
 " Than e'er by saint or sage was taught ; 
 
 " High deeds, half-shun'd before, the soul 
 
 " Now pants, now pines, to make its goal. 
 
 " All things divine and fair, the birth 
 
 " Of flowers, the gladness of the earth, 
 
 " The mystery of the air and sea ; 
 
 " The charmed tongue of Poesy 
 
 " (Which th' unpurg'd grossness of the brain 
 
 " Had scorn'd till then as light and vain) ; 
 
 " All, the full all, that we inherit, 
 
 " Grow sooth, and augur to the spirit ! 
 
 " Lofty and tender thoughts, before 
 " Undream'd, become our angel food, 
 
 " And our regenerate minds adore 
 " The glory and the truth of good i 
 
 " Such are the signs within, the while 
 
 " Our nature coins itself in love \ 
 " And such to me seem signs that smile 
 
 " As types and tokens from above ! 
 " For they are not of earth ! but rather 
 
 " The struggling and half-fledged desires, 
 " For what on earth we may not gather ! — • 
 
 " Love never grants what it inspires ! 
 *' Possession may content the frame, 
 " And calm, nay, haply quell, the flame ; 
 *' But those wild visions and aspirings, 
 " Th' unbodied, dreamlike, dim desirings — 
 " They shun all earthlier fruition ! — 
 
 " They speak an uncompleted doom! 
 " They murmur at the clay's condition ! 
 
 *' And pine within us to the tomb ! 
 
 " Yes ! Love brings something more than love ! 
 "A prophet, and divine impression, 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 167 
 
 " That that which yearneth here — above 
 " Shall not be all denied possession. 
 
 " Though dormant in the secret breast — 
 " Through the harsh toil, and grinding strife, 
 
 " And sluggish sleep, that eke the rest 
 " Of the long acts of motley life ;- — 
 
 " Though dormant, may the guest divine 
 
 *' Lurk in its lone discultured shrine 
 
 ** (For as our gloomy way we grope, 
 
 " We ask but light from earthly hope, 
 
 " Ne'er seeking, and but darkly seeing, 
 
 " The inward glory of our being) ; 
 
 " At once it wakes, and breathes, and moves, 
 
 " The instant that our nature loves — 
 
 " No ! never human lover knew 
 
 " A passion deeply felt and true ; 
 
 " And did not — ere his love declined — 
 
 «* Feel the Immortal of the Mind ; 
 
 " Feel how — unseen and still — we cherish 
 
 " That SOMETHING ncvcr doomed to perish, 
 
 " And own the homeward-pining sigh 
 
 " Of the pent exile of the sky !" 
 
 As Julian ceased, upon his mien. 
 
 And air, and brow, and lofty look. 
 The whole of his bright heart was seen, 
 
 As stamped upon a book ! 
 
 And Chang, in whose dark troublous breast 
 
 The finer thoughts lay unconfess'd 
 
 But often struggling, on him fixed 
 
 A look where awe with pleasure mixed. 
 
 After a brief pause, musingly 
 And slow, the Indian made reply. 
 
168 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK III. 
 
 He tells how to his vision seems 
 
 Love, not indeed without the soft 
 And sacred thoughts, and seerlike dreams 
 
 Which Julian spake of ! — ^but more oft 
 Full of dread omens — shapes that made 
 
 The heart's blood creep ;- — grim images 
 That lay coil'd snakelike in a shade 
 
 Of horror ; — ghastly impulses 
 To some black, guilty purpose urging 
 The will, that shuddered while in verging. 
 And all the while upon him dwelt 
 
 Ching's gaze, whose chill'd and stricken mind 
 For the first time in terror felt. 
 
 The nature to his own entwined. 
 
 So talk'd they ! but the broad and high 
 
 And lore-lit soul of Julian brought 
 Slowly, at length, nor consciously, 
 
 A soothing to the Indian's thought. 
 
 They parted — but Chang henceforth came 
 
 Oft to the student's solitude ; 
 And to renew and thread the same 
 
 And mazelike commune Julian woo'd. 
 Oft — while the brother silent sate. 
 
 Silent but not unheeding— they 
 Conn'd the high themes of human fate, 
 
 The birth of flesh, and its decay ; 
 The uneven dooms of life — the unsolved 
 
 Arcana of the life to come ; 
 And Chance with wistful thought revolved, 
 
 When Truth's close oracles grew dumb. 
 On these high themes, with all that shines 
 From the pure one Creed's solemn shrines, 
 They blend the wild but lofty dreams 
 
 0f other dimes, and moulder'd ages, 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 169 
 
 Nor bar the Christian's sun-lit themes — 
 
 The star-thoughts of the heathen sages. 
 Then the full student pour'd the store 
 Yet fresh in Wisdom's urns of yore. 
 
 The Ionian Seer, who first* in Greece 
 
 The sage's lamp of naptha lighted, 
 Fair Wisdom's tranquil creed of peace, 
 
 With plumed Freedom's faith united ;t 
 And that all-grasping truth proclaimed,! 
 Which Heaven itself hath proudly claimed;-— 
 
 The rival Samian's^ wilder lore, 
 Blent from dark riddles and the hoar 
 Traditions of remotest years 
 
 (Moss'd, as it were, by antique guile), 
 Won from Chaldea's Starry Seers, 
 
 And the gray Mother of the Nile ! — 
 
 The Wise of Clazomene,I| who hung 
 The spell o'er his resistless tongue 
 On whom the Olive QueenlP bestowed 
 The title of her Thunder God ;** 
 The Wise of Clazomene, who — soul'd 
 
 With contemplation — deem'd life given 
 But with a still heart to behold 
 
 The glory of the Earth, and Heaven ; — ff 
 
 * Thales, tlie founder of the Ionian School of Philosophy, and the first Greek 
 who received the title of Sage, and taught the immortality of the soul. 
 
 t It was an observation of Thales, " that nothing was so base as to allow a 
 tyrant to grow old." 
 
 X " Know thyself." E Coelo descendit, <fec. 
 
 ^ Pythagoras, the creator of the great Italian School opposed to the Ionian. 
 
 II Anaxagoras. 
 
 TT Athens. 
 
 ** Pericles, the pupil of Anaxagoras, was sometimes honourably, some- 
 times satirically, styled " the Olympian," from the thunder of his eloquence. 
 
 ft When Anaxagoras, the peculiar property of whose mind has been called 
 "a certain high-wrought and fanciful sublimity," was asked why he came 
 into the world, he answered, " To behold the sun, the moon, and the marvels 
 of nature." 
 
170 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK itt. 
 
 Holier than these, the golden springs 
 
 Of Plato's bright imaginings ; 
 
 He who became the fount, where all 
 
 The fondly wise their visions fed ; 
 And, with a charm'd and solemn thrall, 
 
 Knit Hope and Solace with the Dead ! 
 The Star that shone on tombs ! — the light, 
 Which, more than aught beside, broke the world's 
 Gentile night ; — 
 
 And He* whose lofty name hath gone 
 
 Too lightly from our lips, who drew 
 The noblest form that ever shone 
 
 Upon the old world's dazzled view ; 
 Reared it above all change and chance, 
 
 Bowed Earth, Time, Fortune, to its throne, 
 And made it in sublime romance,. 
 
 Itself its Universe alone ; 
 And then within the high Dream stored. 
 
 And call'd it " Virtue," — and adored ; — 
 
 Of these the student spake, and still 
 
 The lore grew lovely on his tongue. 
 For wisdom's lute needs slender skill. 
 
 If not too harshly strung. 
 
 In turn, the Indian boy releas'd, 
 
 From their dark woods, and shadowy caves, 
 Th' unshaped Chimaeras of the East : 
 
 And with such draughts his listener thrilled. 
 
 As from the unsunn'd and solemn waves 
 Of Fable and of Awe, his urn 
 
 Perchance each elder wanderer filled ; 
 And, home regained, bade Wisdom learn 
 
 What Craft or Folly first instilled.. 
 
 * The illustrious Zeno, the fetTier of the most exalted and least apiwreciated 
 philosophy which an unins-pired reasoner ever devised. 
 
CHAP. 11.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 171 
 
 Marvels, I ween, did he recount 
 Of huge Mienmd's* visioned mount ; 
 Of Boudha^s hallowed toils, and all 
 The pomp of Mooktzke's] glorious hall ; 
 The homes the Eternal Law prescribes ; 
 The mystic Nafs innumerous tribes, — 
 From the dread monster-race, who deep 
 In wood and wave their empire keep ; 
 Haply, where Casse's waters spring 
 To-day, beside the Dr agon-King. \ 
 To those whose mightier legions hold 
 The crystal temple's halls of gold.§ 
 And higher, to the unfathomed space, 
 Swayed by the Arupa's airy race.|| 
 
 Then from the glories of the bless'd 
 
 He glided, dreadly pleased to tell 
 Of the four states the accurs'd invest ;Tf 
 
 From that, where, in their rugged clay, 
 Glimmering and dumb, the brute-tribe stray. 
 
 To where the lost of Niria dwell 
 
 In Zahudibd's rocky hell ! 
 
 Thence from such legends vaguely vast, 
 To their time-hoared philosophy ; 
 
 *Jifze?tmo,theMount of Vision, placed iu the centre of the most elevated 
 part of the earth. 
 
 t Boudha holds his divine habitation in Mooktzke, or the Hall of Glory. 
 
 j The Dragon King, -who always sleeps at the foot of those mountains 
 whence the river Casse springs, is said to have been the first god who appeared 
 in this world ; and it is believed that he will see the last. He only awakes from 
 his sleep at the appearance of a new god. 
 
 ^ The Sun, which belongs to the habitation Zadumaharit (heldi'by one order 
 of Nat), is represented as being without crystal and within gold. 
 
 li The Aru-pa, are the immaterial beings, or spirits ; the other creatures, 
 however angelic or elevated, being corporeal. 
 
 IT There are four states of Ape, or misery ; the first, that of all animals infe- 
 rior to man ; secondly, that of the Preitta ; and thirdly, that of the Assurighe. 
 The tenants of these two latter states endure nearly the same punishments ; 
 and, till we are made aware of the horrors of the fourth, we should conceive 
 that imagination had exhausted itself in the tortures they contain. The fourth, 
 or Niria, is, in reality, the Boudhist's hell : it is situated in the caves of the 
 southern island Zabudiba. 
 
172 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK III. 
 
 Nurse, haply, of all creeds that be 
 Save ane, — the dark recounter pass'd. 
 
 He told, how from its fearful frame 
 
 The death-won world received its name :* 
 
 How from the evils of man's birth, 
 
 And that corrupting curse. of earth 
 
 For ever, as a circle, fated — 
 
 They thought no God the world created, f 
 
 For that a God had screened from aught 
 
 Of harm, or chance, the world he wrought. 
 
 Of souls (he said) belief was cherished. 
 
 That with their fleshy homes they perished ; 
 
 But from the whole, again arose 
 
 A being, doomed to joys or woes ; 
 
 To bestial mould, or shape of spirit, 
 
 As the past life's career might merit4 
 
 And so for aye that whole resolves, 
 
 Till through all changes it revolves, 
 
 And climbs into that loftiest state, 
 
 Free from the breath of Time or Fate ; 
 
 * The Universe receives the name of Logka or Loka, which signifies de- 
 struction and reproduction. 
 
 t The evils in the world, and its repeated destructions (tauglit by the creed 
 of Boudha), are sufficient, in the opinion of these religionists, to prove that it 
 was not the work of a Supreme Being. 
 
 % The followers of Boudha, who make one of the three hundred and thirty- 
 nine heretic sects among the Hindoo;\ believe the soul perishes with the 
 body; and yet, by a metaphysical contradiction, that from the materials of 
 both arise a new being, rewarded or punislwd according to the deeds in the 
 former life '■> ind they suppose, that these said and same m.aterials, having passed 
 through the various orders of Nat, or superior beings, ultimately gain the Nieban, 
 or state of perfect happiness. Thus, curiously enough, they at once deny the 
 immortality of the soul, yet make it progressive ; terminate it \vith life, yet load 
 it with the most tremendous responsibilities. The fact is, that they themselves 
 are irretrievably puzzled and confused in a maze of allegories ; and that we, in 
 deciphering their riddles, are ten thousand times as much in the dark. One 
 thing is quite clear, the Boudhists are not, as they have been accused of being, 
 Atheists. They allow gods enough, in all conscience ; and give to them, or tp 
 their agents, the direction of the world ; they only deny that a divinity created 
 the world. To be sure— this denial has in all times been confounded with 
 Atheism ; but it is a very different thing— as different, for instance, as tithes 
 from religion. 
 
CHAP, n.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 1173 
 
 Stirr'd by no memory that hath been ; 
 One calm, delicious, pure, serene — 
 The Nieban to the perfect given ; — 
 The shadow of the Christian's Heaven ! 
 And these the Indian loved to paint, 
 But with no fond believing folly ; 
 In his strong mind had now wax'd faint, 
 
 Each trace his childhood prized as holy. 
 Not that the erring dreams were lost 
 
 In one true faith, but, vague and mixed, 
 He took from many creeds what most 
 
 His fancy pleased, or judgment fixed : 
 And formed them into one, which schooled 
 
 The calm opinions hush'd within him ; 
 But — like the holiest — rarely ruled 
 
 His deeds, when Passion sought to win him,. 
 Ah ! would that those divine desires 
 That Thought exalts, or Heaven inspires, 
 Could grow at once instinct and rife, 
 Breath'd into acts — and made our life ! 
 
BOOK THE THIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 3Iue devils — not seraphs — ^Their cruelty to Chang — Chang's manners described 
 — His love; jealousy — Mary's alarm — A scene wtiich increases it — Her 
 secret scheme — Chang's wish to go into the country — They depart from 
 London. 
 
CHAP. m.l THE SIAMESE TWINS. 177 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 O Devils ! if your damn'd condition 
 Contains, perchance, an opposition ! 
 What are those imps, who sport the hue 
 
 Sacred to Whigs and Wisdom blue ? 
 
 Oh say, what are those dismal prigs, 
 
 Are they young Benthamites, or — Whigs t * 
 
 Ye devils blue ! how oft, alas ! 
 
 On me you vent your azure spite ! 
 
 Just now I took a cheerful glass, 
 
 To " purge your colour from my sight ! 
 
 If from my cradle you 've pursued me, 
 
 Dull'd, gloom'd, oppress'd — ye ne'er subdued me ! 
 
 In vain betwixt me and the sky 
 
 Ye lower, — I dare you, and defy! 
 
 I do not stoop to soothe and flatter you ; 
 
 Nor, like Tom Moore, with praise bespatter you ! 
 
 I do not call you the sublime 
 
 Feelings of gentlemen who rhyme. 
 
 I do n't wrap angel w4ngs about you, 
 
 Your ugly shapes with grace investing ; 
 Swear Genius cannot do without you. 
 
 And that you 're " deeply interesting !" 
 No — spite of critical severe raffs* 
 Blue devils make but sorry seraphs. 
 
 *'Mr. Moore, in his Life of Lord Byron, was pleased to talk very finely indeed 
 about melancholy. Thinking his doctrine pernicious to the growth of common 
 sense, I expressed that opinion in " Paul Clifford ;" though, of course, with that 
 deference that an ordinary nian owes to a great one ; whereoij certain critics — 
 friends possibly of Mr. Moore — were extremely wroth. I beg pardon of these 
 gentlemen ! — ^If melancholy be poetical, may they be poetical all the rest of their 
 lives ! God forbid that I should disturb their sombre satisfaction ! They are right 
 in defending their bad spirits — their only claim to intellect is worth preserving ! 
 
178 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bQQS^ UX* 
 
 These devils in our Isle's immense city, 
 Finding no dwelling place more pleasant, 
 
 Now, in their bluest blue intensity. 
 
 On Chang seemed settled for the present ! 
 
 Moodier and darker every hour. 
 
 His visage and his spirit seem ; 
 And, wheresoe'er his steps are wending, 
 To earth you note his glances bending, 
 As if uncheck'd he would devour 
 
 Sj^me nursed, but loathly dream. 
 
 And when with kindly voice and eye. 
 The secret of his altered mood. 
 The wistfiil brother tearful woo'd. 
 With few words, slow wrung nor willing, 
 And an aspect stern and chilling. 
 
 He gave the vague reply. 
 All things, — pursuits, — that pleased before, 
 Cheerlessly he sought no more. 
 Sometimes you his lips might see 
 Moving fast unconsciously ; 
 But aloud no word was uttered. 
 It within was, charmlike, muttered. 
 Like some dark and guilty yearning, 
 From the very daylight turning. 
 Oft he, in his gloomy trance. 
 Darted round a jealous glance; W 
 
 And if none appeared to mark. 
 
 With a gaze that from within 
 Stole the venom, fierce and dark. 
 On his brother's face it bent — - 
 But it softened ere it went ; 
 And his desh and members quivered, 
 Like a man but just delivered 
 
 From a peril or a sin ! 
 
'gHAP. hi.] the SIAMESE TWINS. 179 
 
 Strange and terrible, I ween, 
 
 Had the contrast of that look 
 (If thou hadst its meaning seen) 
 And their posture then have been ! 
 
 For, whate'er their feelings took 
 Of change, the brothers ne'er forsook 
 The lovely custom which had grown 
 From their very birth their own ; 
 So — all the while you shunned to trace 
 The passions of the sterner face ; 
 Still, with arm round either thrown, 
 
 They sat in close embrace ! 
 
 But oft, when Mary with her sweet 
 
 And her delicious beauty, stole 
 Athwart his presence — seemed to fleet 
 
 The demon from the Indian's soul ! 
 With a fixed and charmed eye. 
 And a quick and startled sigh. 
 
 Would his panting heart pursue her ! 
 As if — to use the fairy words-— 
 That Passion tuned to Fancy's chords- 
 He yearned to meet her silvery feet. 
 
 His soul to pour unto her.* 
 Yet sometimes ev'n her magic failed, 
 And a darker power prevailed, 
 
 And sometimes, if her voice address'd 
 His brother's ear^ — or, if her smile 
 
 Replied, though sadly, to the jest 
 With which the light Ching would beguile 
 The grief which even he perceived 
 Upon her brow— and seeing grieved-— 
 
 * "And when I shall meet 
 Thy silvery feet, 
 My soul I 'U pour unto thee." 
 
 Herrick, 
 
180 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK III. 
 
 Then a cloud came o'er his air, 
 Or a swift and angry glare 
 
 In his gloomy eyeball glittered;- 
 And low words he gibbered, strung 
 In his unknown native toigue. 
 But which Ching*would seem to hear 
 With a deprecating fear ; 
 
 For, since Chang's had been imbittered, 
 Wherefore he but dimly guess'd, 
 Ching's warm nature had been spelled ; 
 From its choler bowed, and quelled 
 By the passions of a breast 
 Roused — a tempest from its rest ! 
 All that seemed to soothe or please 
 Were the lofty colloquies. 
 That from time to time, we told, 
 How with Julian he would hold ; 
 Yet from these returned, his mood, 
 Less stern, was oft more sadly hued. 
 As if the more his knowledge learned 
 
 Of man's true ends, and Nature's laws, 
 Still with a gloomier thought he turned 
 
 To what he felt, and what he was. 
 
 But rarer now these visits grew, 
 As near and near the stern day drew, 
 When the unpitying bark afar 
 Should waft the lover from his star ; 
 For still, as neared that day of dread, . 
 
 Sunk JuUan's soul ; and if he bore 
 Against his doom, and faintly fed 
 
 With hope his sick heart's wasted core ; 
 'T was only in the hours when naught 
 And none broke o'er his lonely thought — 
 
 His mind was poisoned at the fount ! 
 He loathed all living forms, and even 
 
©JJAP. m.] THjE SIAMESE TlVlKS. 181 
 
 The starry themes he most was wont 
 To love, grew tedious ; and the leaven 
 Of his deep-hoarded gathering wo, 
 Tainted an(|. tinged all things below. 
 
 But lovely is a woman's soul, 
 
 And ev'n when sorrow spurns control, 
 
 Its selfishness she smothers ; 
 And Mary, though perchance the dart 
 Had entered deeper in her heart 
 Ev'n than her lover's breast, yet cherished 
 The thought that in his grief had perished 
 
 The thought, the sympathy for others ! 
 So, roused at moments from her bow'd 
 
 And brooding sorrow, she surveyed, " 
 Alarmed and anxious, the strange cloud 
 
 That o'er the Indian cast its shade. 
 Too pure, too guileless to discover 
 
 The barb and mystery of his soul. 
 She dream'd not she beheld a lover 
 
 In him compassion would console : 
 But shudderingly she saw his look 
 
 So dreadly on his brother fall ; 
 And felt that he had ceased to brook. 
 
 And now abhorred, their fleshly thralL 
 
 *T was evening, and the quiet air 
 
 Came thro' the casement soft and holy. 
 By which the Brothers seated w'ere ; 
 
 Chang self-wrapp'd in his melancholy, 
 And looking o'er the changed street, 
 
 Where fast the gloaming shades were thickening, 
 And wearied Traffic's busy feet 
 
 Were heard more rarely homeward quickening ;— • 
 There was a softness in his mien. 
 
 There was a softness in his brow ; 
 I 
 
182 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK HI, 
 
 And Mary,' as she chanced unseen 
 To pass beside him, paused — and now 
 
 Ching, who in silent watch had viewed 
 The slow relaxing of his mood, 
 
 Looked up, and when he saw the maid, 
 ' A smile upon his features play'd. 
 
 Gently he signed her not to speak. 
 
 Lest that unwonted spell should break ; 
 So pleased and touched the maiden stood, 
 
 An answering smile upon her cheek ; 
 
 And on his shoulder kindly laid 
 
 A sister's hand, as she survey'd. 
 
 Bo were they grouped : there was, I ween, 
 
 A quiet pathos in the scene. 
 
 The object of their mutual care 
 
 Feeding lone thoughts, unconscious, there— 
 
 The wistful and the anxious brother 
 
 Striving his very breath to smother — 
 
 And smiling with a moistened eye ; 
 And, in her still and tranquil grace, 
 That fair girl, with her moonlight face, 
 
 And ivory neck, and golden hair, 
 
 Contrasted with that Eastern Pair, 
 Gazing on both so tenderly. 
 
 Chang sighed, and turned ; — and all amazed. 
 Started — and on the watchers gazed. 
 
 As he gazed, the warm blood rushed 
 To his cheek — the gathering ire 
 Lit his eyes with livid fire ; 
 And his lips, with anger trembling. 
 
 Half refused the speech ; but hushed 
 And their sudden fear dissembling, 
 Stood the two ; nor from him took 
 The pitying kindness of their look. 
 
CHAP. III.] THS^- SIAMESE TWINS. 183 
 
 " Her hand on thine ! 't is true !" — so said he, 
 With a hollow voice unsteady ; 
 As he muttered — from the heart 
 To the deed the passions start, — 
 And a fierce and frantic hand 
 
 On his brother's throat he fixed ; 
 And his features sternly scanned, 
 
 With a gaze, wherein were mixed 
 All the wrath, and all the wo, 
 All the madness that below 
 In his bosonj raged and festered ! 
 
 " Thou too lov'st !" he said — nor more — 
 
 As it came, the fit was o'er. 
 And the fiend abruptly mastered ! — 
 " Fool — fool — oh ! bitter fool !" he muttered, 
 
 And his face, ashamed, he hid : 
 
 Faintly even Mary chid— 
 And no word by Ching was uttered, 
 
 To his eyes the wrong'd heart crept. 
 
 And — ^but not in wrath — he wept. 
 
 That wild and fierce leap of the mind 
 
 Had outstripped words — and left behind 
 A leaden terror numb and still, 
 And a foreboding icy thrill, 
 
 Vague, shuddering, mute, and undefined ! 
 
 Before that evening, and that scene, - 
 
 A scheme on Mary's mind had been. 
 Which she had anxiously revolved — 
 Doubting half— -and half resolved. 
 But from that hour — albeit not more '^ 
 She guess'd Chang's passion than before, 
 And only felt how deep the sting 
 Of his appalling hate to Ching — 
 Her mind no longer could be bent 
 From the " wound pitch of her intent." 
 
 12 
 
184 THE SIAMESE TWIfCS. [bOOK HI.' 
 
 To none her project she betray did, 
 Till of its likelihood persuaded ; 
 And then 't was with no easy art 
 
 She won her sire to acquiescing ; 
 Sweet reader, how shall I impart 
 
 That scheme — to save the bore of guessing?— 
 Nay, reader, fie — Ma'am, no caressing ! 
 Upon my word, you 're much too pressing ! 
 I grant, to please you all, my trade is ;— 
 But then, indeed — consider, ladies ! — 
 Well, if you will — it must be so ! 
 Silence ! — are all prepared ?— then know — 
 That plots are fruits which shun precocity, 
 And that no sin 's like curiosity ! 
 
 But while the scheme was in its cradle, 
 Chang said that London air him made ill ; 
 Complaining that the smoke oppress'd 
 His lungs, — and settled on his chest. 
 (Hence, by-the-way, I often think 
 
 The spleen that haunts our London gapers — ■■ 
 When so much smoke we daily drink, 
 
 No wonder that we feel the vapours !)~ 
 He said his spirit seemed to long 
 
 To change the dull air for the breeze, 
 And the loud city's reeking throng 
 
 For the green turf and whispering trees. 
 
 'T was then the zenith of the spring 
 
 (The second in this clime they 'd known), 
 
 Blithely the West Wind plumed his wing, 
 And merrily the blue sky shone. 
 
 In short, it was that sort of weather 
 
 We rarely have two days together. , 
 
 Well ! when the weather chanced to blunder 
 Into this sort of French effrontery, 
 
eU^V.. III.] THl §UMESE TWINS. 185 
 
 Chang grew quite obstinate — na wonder ! — • 
 To make tke laost of it in the country. 
 
 So Hodges hired a place, of Claridg^, 
 'T was pretty, a,nd not far from town ; 
 
 And one fine morning, in their carriage, 
 Our little family went down. 
 
 Between two books— that yet to charm you, 
 And that which now is all but over, — 
 
 Reader, once more, the Muse, to arm you 
 With caution, condescends to hover. 
 
 Some time ago, I gave due warning 
 
 Of an infringement on my rights ;* 
 Since then, I hear, the impostors scorning 
 
 Justice, continue to be — sights ! 
 
 'T is well — their fraud shall yet be thwarted, 
 Fortune ne'er smiles upon the cheating — 
 
 My Twins must give — they 're so supported — 
 The rival candidates a beating. 
 
 Meanwhile, forgive — if I once more 
 
 Remind you — they 're the Independents ; 
 
 Oh ! mix them not, I must implore — 
 Mix them not up with the defendants. 
 
 Hear me, ye pseudo-twins, I '11 ne'er 
 
 Submit to your coarse imitation ; 
 Know, I can drive you to despair, — 
 
 And note the scheme in preparation ! 
 
 Note, if you push — for those I sing of, 
 Your wish to be mistaken further, 
 
 * See the commencement of Book ii. Chap. 2. 
 
186 THE SIAJftESE TWINS. [bOOK III. 
 
 I '11 make a common thief my Ching of— - 
 And lead my Chang into a murther. 
 
 So, ye young rascals, I exhort you 
 
 No more as my Twins to exhibit ; 
 Or, spurious Ching, I will transport you, 
 
 And you, false Chang, shall taste the gibbet. 
 
 We think we now to our conclusion 
 
 May glide — nor meet with more confusion. 
 
 END OF BOOK THE THIRD. 
 
BOOK THE FOURTH. 
 
INTRODUCTORY LINES TO BOOK THE FOURTH, 
 
 TO THE 
 
 RIGHT HON. THE EARL GREY, <fec. &c. 
 
 Ere yet, my Lord, you hold the place 
 Whence Sense and Parnell drove his Grace,* 
 The Muse had seized the rights of Fame, 
 And decked eulogium with your name. 
 Power stills the praise that Freedom pour'd — 
 A colder hand retunes the chord ; 
 
 * It is not because a man fails in one province, that we are to withhold him 
 merit for succeeding in another. With all his late political errors, no one can 
 read the history of the Duke of Wellington's campaigns (which makes indeed 
 the history of his character) without acknowledging the evidence, not more 
 of a great general than of a great mind. To deny that his is deservedly one ofj 
 the most illustrious of the proud names of this, country is to betray the stolidity of 
 the dunce, or the bigotry of the partisan, or the audacity of the timeserver. Like 
 other men, in what his education adapted him for he ^excelled, but beyond others; 
 in what his education unfitted him for he failed ; but not even then, let it be re- 
 membered, without showing certain qualities which, in the old times of cabal 
 and plot, might have won him the reputation and power happily in civil re- 
 spects denied him now. With a profound admiration for his merits — rejoicing, 
 as an Englishman, to acknowledge the justice of 'his fame — ^I cannot, however, 
 but consider that the greatest benefit he ever conferred on his country is to be 
 found in the nature of his fall. He depended on the people, and he was safe ; 
 in vain the Aristocracy combined against him — in vain the Church. He de- 
 serted the people, and he fell at once. Never was fall so sudden — so com- 
 plete ! It was the revenge of the common Sense and the common Interest he 
 had outraged. What a lesson against the intrigues by which states were 
 formerly governed ! What a warning to future ministers ! What an incen- 
 tive to the vigilance of the people ! It is for Lord Grey to profit by this exam- 
 ple ; if he do so, he will triumph over the two great and substantial causes of 
 dread — the ardour of theorists, and the tendency of the times to hifrry events, 
 not in,accordance with, but beyond^ the intellect of the multitude. " His order" 
 is in danger— it can be saved — by a prompt surrender of all that it contains 
 obnoxious. To the dominion of the Aristocracy may be given the same advice 
 given by Augustus in respect to the dominion of Rome — you can only support 
 its strength by limiting its boundaries ! 
 
 13 
 
190 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK IV. 
 
 And if I give to Flattery scope, 
 'T is less in homage than in hope. 
 
 Time, when it lowers on states, inspires 
 Some thoughts above self's low desires ; 
 And if I speak of hope, the word 
 Hath scarce the construing of the herd ; 
 Since — nor with careless glance — my soul 
 First gazed on dark Time's riddled scroll — 
 First conned the food of Truth, and wrought 
 The chyle of memory into thought, 
 In my still heart I learn'd to rear 
 Beyond all lowlier hope or fear,* 
 Beyond the harlots of the hour. 
 The lusts that burn for wealth or power, 
 The snakelike arts, that while they wind 
 Aloft, are track'd in slime behind ; 
 Beyond the day's brief praise or blame — 
 Beyond the angel-wings of Fame — 
 Beyond the smiles of kings — ^the loud, 
 Not lasting, worship of the crowd — 
 Beyond all — save the heart's — applause ; 
 O God — O Earth ! your common cause. 
 
 What then my hope ? — Oh, if thy youth 
 Bow'd Ease to Toil, and Pride to Truth : 
 If thy stern manhood never faltered, 
 Unawed — unbought — untired — unaltered ; 
 If yet the ends thou sought'st to gain,* 
 The same eternal truths remain ; 
 If to enforce those ends, the Hour 
 Hath sceptred Liberty with Power, 
 
 * Turn to any page in the political life of Lord Grey, what is the cause for 
 which we find him the advocate 1 — Economy — peace — reform — liberty allowed 
 abroad, and enlarged at home. Was there ever before a minister in this coun 
 try IP whom the people had merely to say, " Be consistent V 
 
rNTROD.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 191 
 
 May we not hope from thee for more 
 Than Might ere gave^to Right before? 
 And tho' deep wrongs contemn'd — at length 
 Have roused Submission into Strength, 
 Thy glory will not be the less 
 To raise Concession to Redress.* 
 'T is but — the bitter struggle past — 
 To share the victory earned at last — 
 To hail free thought to action grown, 
 And in man's triumph crown thine own. 
 
 If this thy glory, not in vain 
 Was nurs'd the dream that urged the strain, 
 And mirrors now in faithful lays, 
 Men's present hope, and future praise. 
 If not thy glory — all that burns 
 In beacon now to ruin turns ; 
 The hovering halo shuns thy name, 
 And homage blackens into shame. 
 If cold, if stem, to courtlier ear, 
 Ev'n praise by Freedom poured, appear, 
 'T is not for thee to learn, in sooth. 
 How Doubt has stolen her fire from Truth- 
 How long — how oft — our race hath borne 
 The good denied — >the pledge forsworn ; 
 Till Foresight — means the skeptic's eyes — 
 And to mistrust is to be wise If 
 
 * Montesquieu, in the " Grandeur et Decadence des Romains" (chap, viii.), 
 the work in which the rare and brilliant genius of that great ^vriter is perhaps 
 displayed with the fullest concentration and the least alloy, has observed, " Le 
 gouvernement de Rome fut admirable en ce que depuis sa naissance, sa con- 
 stitution se trouva telle, soit par Fesprit du peuple, la force du s^nat ou I'auto- 
 rite de certains magistrats que tout abus du pouvoir y put toujours itre corrigi." 
 Yet this very power, which he afterward calls the salvation of a free govern- 
 ment, our statesmen, till now, have represented as its ruin. 
 
 t When Hartley (Observations on Man, vol. i. p. 304), speaking of private 
 morals, said, " great care ought to be taken not to esteem our friend a non- 
 pareil," and " that it is a great injury to any man to think more highly of him 
 than he deserves," he uttered v<rhat, if taken in the seeming sense, not that in 
 "Which the speculator meant it, Age calls at once a moral, and Youth a meanness. 
 But in private life, after all, it is wiser in the long run to confide than to sus- 
 
102 THE SIAlttESE TWINS. [BQQK IY. 
 
 Yetj oh ! what glory waits the mind, 
 The moral Theseus of mankind, 
 That with firm step and dauntless gaze 
 Shall thread the dark miholy maze, 
 That — not content the maze to win — 
 Shall slay the Monster-vice within. 
 All private ties with years decay, 
 Love chills, and Friendship rots away. 
 But in Earth's Common Soul, each deed 
 That serves mankind records its meed. 
 There Envy breathes — but there avails not, 
 Change dims all else — that splendour fails not. 
 Wave after wave Time onward sweepeth, 
 The same bright spot the glory keepeth. 
 It fires — ^but never needs the bard, 
 Eternity hath grown its guard. 
 It lives with all men honour most— . 
 A date — an heirloom — and a boast. 
 Each future good by heaven decreed 
 To grateful Earth—- is deemed its seed — 
 And not one after-light can shine, 
 Nor blazon forth its glorious shrine. 
 
 But why to THEE this worthless strain ?^- 
 Can verse no emblem then contain? 
 Lurks there, then, in the Sybil rhyme, . 
 No type — no token of the time ? 
 What in this tale may we descry 1 
 The moral men in vain deny ! 
 Behold the Two whom Heaven had made 
 To love each other and to aid, 
 
 pect. In public life all experience tells us the reverse. What Epicharmus said 
 more than two thousand years ago, and Poiybius (whose actual experience in 
 the world gave not the least merit to his noble history) has so emphatically 
 retailed, hath lost none of its melancholy wisdom by time, " In distrust ars 
 
 tks nervss of the mindJ' 
 
OITgOI).] THE SIAMESE TWJN«. 193 
 
 Bound by a tie that grows a thrall, 
 
 Till what should strengthen— can but galL 
 
 To one, 't is true, the irksome cham 
 Sits light — and custom conquers pain ; 
 But in the moodier Twin, our verse 
 Portrays its torture and its curse. 
 What ! in mankind can we behold 
 No state like that our tale hath told ? 
 
 But mark as we proceed — and grows 
 The darkling legend to its close, — 
 The one who bore with lightsome cheer 
 The chain — hath now the most to fear. 
 As loathing takes its latest change, 
 And swells Despair into Revenge. 
 What ! in mankind can we behold 
 No state like that our tale hath told 1 
 
 Mark yet — if we could all release 
 That tie — would not the peril cease I 
 In wonted streams freed Nature flow. 
 And in the brother merge the foe. 
 What ! in mankind can we behold 
 No state like that our tale hath told ? 
 
 Are there no Orders like that two 
 That in the mpral world we view ? 
 No bond that maddens while it draws 
 And makes that hell — unequal laws ?* 
 
 * An expression that owes none of its warmth to -^eiry— impartial law has 
 been confounded with the Deity himself. " God being, as the writer de Munda 
 well expresses it, v6jxoi IcroicKivfji, an impartial law ; and as Plato, ixirgov 
 ■savTuiv, the measure of all things." — CudwortKs Intellectual System, vol, i. 
 425. If James the First was right when he said, " Since the Devil is the very 
 contrary opposite to God, there can be no better way to know God than by the 
 contrary" (Demonologie, hook ii.), we seem certainly to have given Jiis' ma- 
 jesty's plan of knowing God a very long trial ! 
 
194 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IV. 
 
 Release is then the surest tie — 
 Here pause we — nor the rest supply ! 
 
 Enough — and now forgive the rhyme 
 That plays the moralist with Time ; 
 And think the verse which least appears 
 To flatter — oft the most reveres. 
 
BOOK THE FOURTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
}i:i 
 
 .9 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Description of scenery around the Brothers' cottage— The evening walk of 
 Chang and Ching — Their dialogue in the wood — Their return home — Theuf 
 appearance— Mary's alarm — Chang's short soliloquy 
 
BOOK THE FOURTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was a fair and gentle scene, i^^- 
 
 In which the Twins had their retreat P* * 
 
 The pastoral cot — the village green 
 
 The quiet valleys wav'd with wheat ! 
 
 Like youth upon a holyday, 
 The brook sprang freshly on its way ; 
 A noisy voice of gladness sending 
 Thi'ough antique oak, and osier bending 
 Along its broken marge. 
 Till in the Thames it dies away ; 
 Its death-bed^reeds and wild flowers (breathing 
 A requiem faint, but fragrant)-^wreathing. 
 And there your step for hours might stay, 
 Bank, sky, and river to survey ; 
 The lonely fisher moor'd hard by, 
 Where yon green islet woos the eye, 
 
 The black and heavy barge, 
 And the light vessel swiftly gliding. 
 With pleasure and gay hearts presiding. 
 
 On either bank the while you see 
 The cot, the villa, whitely studding 
 
 The fan: ascent, where many a tree 
 Into the life of spring is budding. 
 
198 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IV 
 
 The chestnut with his silver wealth ; 
 
 The prodigal Laburnam's gold ; 
 And shyly, and as if by stealth, 
 
 You aye and ever may behold. 
 Up some half-hid gray cottage creeping, 
 The jasmine and the bee-flower peeping. 
 And o'er the wizard sky the while. 
 
 The strange and spirit clouds would grow ; 
 So quaintly group'd as to beguile i 
 
 Your charm'd eye from the earth below. 
 And lead the scheming self to ape 
 Such baseless pile and airy shape; 
 For when hath Fancy not excelled 
 Whate'er of beauty eye beheld ? 
 
 Such was the scene, save there that Eve's 
 
 Slow shade a mellower beauty threw. 
 As the waves murmured, and the leaves 
 
 Sighed back the Day-god's last adieu, 
 
 "When lone, nor watched, the Indian Brothers 
 
 The soft banks of the river sought ; 
 Dark Chang within his bosom smothers 
 
 Half-shaped designs and gloomy thought, — 
 
 His bitter love — unhallowed hate — 
 Repinings — curses — at his fate ; 
 Schemes — memories — feelings died in gall. 
 And something shapeless blackening over all !— 
 
 They came by a pleasant slope, 
 And the swans swept sailing by, 
 " Stay, and see," cried Ching, " how the brave birds cope 
 " With the vex'd waves gallantly !" -^ 
 
 But pause or reply stern Chang made none— W 
 
 His eyelid drooped, and he hurried on. 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 199 
 
 They came where an idiot boy, with a string 
 
 Drew gudgeons out by the dozen : 
 " Stay, and see, there is never so silly a thing, 
 
 " But finds sillier things to cozen." 
 But pause or reply stern Chang made none — 
 He bit his lip, and he hurried on. 
 
 They came where some children carelessly sported 
 
 In a green vale's gentle hollow — 
 " Stay, and see how Pleasure, the less she 's courted, 
 
 Will ever the fonder follow." 
 But pause or reply stern Chang made none, — 
 He looked aside, and he hurried on. 
 
 They came where a stately mansion rose. 
 
 With a fmieral bier beneath— 
 " Stay, and see how, they kiss — those olden foes — 
 
 " Wealth and his scorner Death !" 
 But pause or reply stern Chang made none — 
 His brow grew black, and he hurried on. 
 
 They came to a dark and lonely wood, 
 And they lost the stream's glad course ; 
 
 But they heard, thro' the grim of the solitude, 
 Th' unseen wave murmur hoarse. 
 
 There was an awe and a chill 
 
 Over that desolate spot. 
 In their damp, unsunn'd, and still. 
 
 The moist leaves seemed to rot. 
 
 And the gray sky only anon. 
 
 Thro' the dense shade sadly shone ; 
 
 As the rare stars glimmered through 
 
 The haze and the reek of the marsh-drawn dew. 
 
^^0 THE SIAMESE TWINS. \jBQ^lS, IV» 
 
 And a f(0?Lr came sudden and curdling o'er 
 
 The blood of the gentler brother ; 
 And he knew not why, but his words forbore 
 
 To lure from the gloom of his thought the other. 
 
 For hitherto, with a kindly art, 
 
 We have seen that he moulded his speech 
 In the fashion quaint, which the moody heart 
 
 Of his brother not often had failed to reach-— 
 But he now was mute, and his pulse beat fast, 
 So into the midst of the wood they pass'd. 
 
 Then suddenly, and solemnly, 
 
 And with a deathlike cheek, 
 Chang paused, and darkly turned his eye 
 
 On Ching — ^but did not speak. 
 
 And strange, and yet more strange that look 
 
 Glared out through the dull air. 
 And his brow grew damp, and his knees they shook. 
 
 And a horror crept cold through his stiffening hair. 
 
 His lips were apart and trembling. 
 
 But their voice like a ghost was fled ;- — 
 So stood he and so gazed,— 
 When Ching, fear-stricken and amazed, 
 But with a tone dissembling 
 
 The strangeness and chill of his dread. 
 Spake out, and his voice was as winds, when agaiia 
 They break with a groan thro' the Ice-king's chaia. 
 
 " My brother, wherefore bendest thou 
 " On me that eye, and boding brow 1 
 " Have I offended thee in aught ?— 
 " Speak, brother, out the angry thought i 
 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 201 
 
 " But gaze not on me with that fierce 
 
 " And silent aspect — thy lips quiver, 
 " And thine eyes look as they would pierce, 
 
 " Like darts, my life — I feel thee shiver 
 "Ev'n as thou stand'st, and every vein 
 
 « Creeps chill'd by thine—" 
 
 »* Ay, thou hast said 
 " The very curse — the very bane, 
 
 " For which my soul could look thee dead. 
 " Cannot this blood glide fast or slow, 
 " But thou its very pulse must know ? 
 " Can I not move, or breathe, or yell 
 
 " My tortures to the tacit air, 
 " But still thine eye must on me dwell, 
 
 "And still thy ghastly shape be there ? 
 
 " Oh ! I could gripe thee with these hands, 
 
 " And tear away the fleshly bands, 
 
 " The curse of clay which from our tribe 
 
 " Hath severed our unnatural fate, 
 " Made us to this wide earth a gibe, 
 
 " And to ourselves- — a hate ! 
 
 " Ay, shudder, for ray heart is told, 
 
 " At last the words are said — 
 " Hark ! for in them thy doom hath knoll'd 
 
 " A knell of deeper dread 
 " Than ever yet to mortal bore 
 
 " The fulness of despair ! 
 " Henceforth to each for evermore 
 
 " Air open hate we bear — 
 " Henceforth must jealousy and fear, 
 " And horror be thy daily cheer ! 
 
 " Henceforth the bless'd sun shall look dark, 
 " The earth grow red with blood, 
 
 
202 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK IV. 
 
 " Thy haggard eyes shall dread to mark 
 
 " Thy mirror in the flood — 
 " Thy flesh shall waste— the dewy sleep, 
 
 " The quiet pulse shall fly thee — • 
 " For thou must know, A FOE shall keep 
 
 " Lone watch for ever by thee ! 
 
 " And thro' the night, and by the day, 
 
 " In bed — at board — at every tide 
 " Of time and place — that foe must stay 
 
 " To curse thee by thy side ! 
 " And own a deep and solemn joy 
 
 " The while he feels himself decay, 
 " That the same death, which must destroy 
 
 "Himself — rots thee 3.w B.y I — 
 " And now I seal my lips !" 
 
 He ceas'd ; 
 And his strained hands their clench released ; 
 
 And his breath gasped as if to free 
 His breast from some departed spell. 
 
 Yet witching with its memory. 
 
 And thus — as stands some fearful thing 
 
 Of war, awhile its vengeance spent — 
 Sullen and dark he stood ; while Ching 
 
 A look on his swart visage bent. 
 Where fear — amaze — love — pity mingled 
 
 So plainly baring all the soul. 
 That there a glance might well have singled 
 
 Each separate feelingfrom the whole : 
 And when a moment's pause had died. 
 Thought gush'd to speech, and he replied ;— 
 
 " Thy fever, not thyself, hath spoken, 
 
 " Mine only friend — my brother — 
 " Oh ! by our childliood's every token— 
 
 " By all we have been to each other — 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 203 
 
 "By the sweet comfort we have taken 
 
 " From our own lips when others chid ; 
 "The thought that, if by all forsaken, 
 
 " One friend Fate never could forbid, — 
 " By every joy in common shared, 
 ** Or sorrow felt, or danger dared, 
 " Oh wrestle with the fiend within, 
 " And be yet — ^yet what thou hast been ! 
 " My brother, when our father bless'd us, 
 
 " Could one be in the prayer forgot ? 
 " And when our mother's love caress'd us, 
 
 " That love could either share it not ? 
 " Our sleep, our food, our life the same ; 
 " And if sometimes our breasts might frame 
 
 " A different impulse or desire, 
 " Methought to both 't was sweet to yield, 
 " And all that might have chafed appeal'd 
 " But to our love, and to the tie 
 " Of our belov'd affinity ! 
 " Belov'd ! — was our love not more free 
 " From envy — coldness — and from all 
 " The thoughts of self — ^than love can be 
 " In their unquiet hearts who call 
 " Divided forms and schemes which brood 
 ** O'er lonely projects — brotherhood-' 
 " How often, in our childish years, 
 
 " We talked throughout the sleepless night, 
 " And bless'd the bond which now appears 
 
 "Accursed in thy sight ! 
 ** How often were we wont to say 
 " * Each worldly bond must pass away — 
 " ' Time must dissolve, and absence sever, 
 
 " ' And Death all other hearts divide ; 
 " * But, brother, thou and I can never 
 
 " ' Be sundered from each other's side ! 
 
304 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK Xt* 
 
 " « Come joy, come sorrow, we togetiier 
 
 " ' Must bear and share the doom ; 
 " ' Nor break our friendship's holy tether^ 
 
 " ' Save in one common tomb. 
 *' ' So God hath joined us to be 
 
 " ' To each a solace and a mate, 
 " ' Earth's friendships—- Love 's beyond — for we 
 " ' Are sacred ev'n from Fate !' — 
 " Hast thou not said those very words ?— -:, 
 " And now ! — and now !" 
 
 His heart 
 
 Nor further speech, nor breath accords ; 
 
 But all the streams of Memory start 
 
 Fresh from the well of distant years, 
 And falling on that gloomy breast 
 Which had so dark a change confess'd, 
 He burst forth into tears ! 
 
 And high, and pale, and motionless, , • 
 
 Stands Chang ; and on his sullen cheek 
 No varying nerve or hue express 
 
 What Pride or Hate forbids to speak ; 
 Yet slowly in his eyes at length. 
 The frozen moisture gathered strength. 
 Until from the reluctant lid 
 One large and salt tear coldly slid 
 Adown his cheek, unheeded straying, 
 And his looks rigid calm betraying. 
 
 And dark and darker grows the night. 
 
 Around them falling ; 
 As the winds awake, and the Water-sprite 
 
 From his caves is calling : 
 And the heavy drops from the gathering cloud 
 ^ Fall on the trees as they quail ; 
 
CHAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 206 
 
 And the crest of their haughtiest chief is bowed 
 
 To the rush of the trampHng gale. 
 And the gloom, and the night, and the solitude, 
 "Were their witness and watch iii the dreary wood. 
 
 * 
 
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 And when they gain'd their distant cot, 
 The Twins were reconciled. 
 
 They arrived at the lonely door, 
 
 With the light at the lattice burning ; 
 And Mary came out, in joy once more 
 
 To welcome her guests' returning : 
 For the hour was late, and the storm was dreat. 
 And Mary was ever a fool to fear. 
 
 Besides (may Heaven forgive the thought !) 
 
 A knife, that in the Brothers' room 
 Was left, in vain had Mary sought ; 
 
 And this, with that knit brow of gloom, 
 That restless eye, and aspect dark 
 Which late in Chang she deemed to mark, 
 Her vague, half-lit forebodings joined— 
 
 As the hours pass'd, nor homeward yet 
 Their steps return'd. Nor now her mind 
 
 Shook off its burthen, as she met 
 Their welcome forms the threshold crossing ; -*i 
 
 But lifting high the light,. whose flare 
 In the fierce wind was wildly tossing, 
 
 A long and wistful gaze she fixed 
 
 Upon their faces ; — the proud air 
 
 Of Chang seemed bowed, and tamed, and mixed 
 K 
 
206 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IV. 
 
 With something of that gentler mien, 
 Which wont on Ching's light brow be seen. 
 
 But Ching's gay laugh and voice were mute. 
 
 And weary fell his languid foot ; 
 
 The exhausted frame, or labouring mind, 
 
 In his drawn cheek its sigil sign'd ; 
 
 And you might mark, yet lingering there, 
 
 The traces which the past bequeaths, 
 When some dread ihought we shun to bare 
 
 Again — the haggard memory sheaths. 
 She look'd, but silently suppress'd 
 Whate'er aroused Suspicion guess'd. 
 They sat at the nightly board, 
 
 And Mary press'd the cheer ; 
 And her father's voice, with a merrier sound 
 
 Than of wont, came on the ear ; 
 And the generous wine which he long had stored 
 
 Was gayly circled round. 
 But the airy heart of the buoyant Ching 
 Flagged like a bird on a wounded wing ; 
 Tho' aye, as the wine-cup sparkled by. 
 The beam broke forth from his kindled eye. 
 And struggled his lip for its customed whim-7- . 
 But the jest was dull, and the glance was dim. 
 
 And Chang nor ate, nor spake, nor took 
 
 His droop'd eye from the board, save by * 
 
 A hurried and "a stolen look 
 
 To her, who watched them wistfully. 
 
 Still at that look his breath heaved thickly. 
 
 And his pulse beat feverishly and quickly. 
 
 Not much they needed to be press'd, 
 To yield to Mary's gentle prayer, 
 
€HAP. I.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 207 
 
 No longer to protract the rest 
 
 Which should then* wearied strength repair. 
 
 They are now in their quiet room, 
 
 They are now on their couch reclining ; 
 
 And only through the broken gloom 
 One waning lamp is shining. 
 
 Already hath Ching's tired breast, 
 
 Cradled the vex'd thought into rest. 
 
 But Chang yet wakes, his lips are stirred 
 
 At times by some half-muttered word. 
 
 Fragments of speech confused and broken, 
 
 But of the past's dark pile a token. 
 
 Now tones of grief, and now of shame, 
 
 Now of repentance and remorse ; 
 And now fair Mary's holy name. 
 
 Of thought awakes k purer source. 
 
 These were the last words which he breathed, 
 Ere, snakelike, slumber round him wreathed. 
 And lock'd him in, her numbing fold — 
 ''^'Tis past — it was — it was controU'd! 
 " And we are saved ! — and if for me, 
 
 " No hope can dawn- I yet may hover 
 *' Around her blessed paih; — and He 
 
 " O joy ! O joy ! — he doth not love her I" 
 
 K3 
 
■^ 
 
BOOK THE FOURTH. 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Night — ^The Mysteriotts Stranger — Quacks — Mr. St. John Long — dcensed' 
 surgeons, Lawrence, Abernethy, &c. — Mary's scheme disclosed — The hours 
 — Lines on our anxiety in the illness of one we love — Suspense ; its result 
 — The value of one faithful heart — The contrast between a sick chamber 
 within, and the exhilaration of nature withotit. 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 211 | 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 And now it was Night's witching noon ; 
 The storm had raged itself to rest ; 
 
 And a gray calm lay round the Moon, 
 As on she glided mournfully ; 
 
 Like one who, with a pining breast. 
 Is left the sad survivor lone, 
 Alike of loves and perils gone ; 
 And, from the height of Memory, 
 Sees, with a strange and joyless eye, 
 The beauty, and the pomp below ! 
 Self-wrapt, and wearily travailing, 
 She waneth from her wan life, sailing 
 Ail silent in her wo. 
 
 Beneath the room in which, serene 
 
 And deathlike, sleep the Twins is folding, 
 
 Lo ! with a stranger to our scene, ' 
 
 Mary and Hodges converse holding. 
 
 This gentleman in black was dress'd, 
 A noble frill adorned his breast ; 
 An air — which, Conrad-like, had damped 
 Questions absurd — his visage stamped. 
 In his plain face few charms the lover 
 Of classic features could discover ; 
 No modish grace leer'd forth in him, 
 Simple his dress but simply-prim : 
 
218 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK IV. 
 
 Yet he who paus'd to look again, 
 
 Saw more than marks the herd of men.* 
 
 Something about him vaguely said, 
 
 " This man could do a deed of dread — 
 
 " Jesu ! defend us from the dead !" 
 
 Something about his garb, his gravity, 
 
 His smile so sombre in its suavity. 
 
 His searching eye, his wrinkled nose, 
 
 The tightness of his black smallclothes — 
 
 Showed him, at once, one of that race 
 
 Whose spell can pierce the closest place j * 
 
 Who haunt the coyest solitudes ; 
 
 And sit beside the bed of prudes. 
 
 The chastest maid could scarce deny 
 
 His midnight visit never shock'd her ; 
 And matrons, should their girls be shy. 
 
 Would cry, " What, bashful to the doctor !'* 
 Yes, reader, for the worst prepare ; 
 
 Think of your poor soul, I implore you ! 
 Your will ! — you 've not an hour to spare ! 
 
 A son of Galen is before you ! 
 Pooh ! let us not be so malicious ; 
 Your licensed leech is never vicious : 
 Death from his hands should give no terror. 
 In him 't is — " Accidental error !" 
 But quacks, who do the art usurp, us. 
 Like St. John Long, destroy on purpose ! 
 Pouring damned gas, I do assure ye. 
 
 Into our lungs, by way of potion, 
 And making, with infernal fury, 
 
 Holes in our poor backs with a lotion ! 
 But this, sweet reader, let me urge on 
 Your kind remembrance, was a surgeon, 
 Licensed to do your business ably. 
 One died with him most comfortably ! 
 
 * " Yet, in the whole, who paused to look again, 
 " Saw more than marks the crowd of vulgar men."— Corsair. 
 
CHAP, n.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 213 
 
 Indeed, he did enjoy a station 
 Of quite uncommon reputation. 
 Perhaps you think my verse may glance 
 To Mr. Brodie, or to Vance — 
 Or to that " Duke of Limbs" so super- 
 Eminent — ay, Sir Astley Cooper ! 
 Or him who wrote, so I 've heard tell, 
 
 A book which merits great abhorrence, 
 He cuts one up extremely well. 
 
 And, I believe, his name is Lawrence ! 
 Or that most soft and unalarming _ 
 Surgeon, the ladies think so charming-— 
 Who (pray to God he leave no pupils !) 
 Blackbrows his patients into blue pills ! 
 Who, if your temple or your thumb ache, 
 Vents all his wrath upon your stomach !* 
 Who, like a Garrick or a Kemble, 
 Awes your whole frame into a tremble ; 
 And, having steeped you in subtnission. 
 Next starves you — into plump condition If 
 No ! none of these he is, and yet 
 He 's just as clever, for a bet : 
 In short, whatever him you term, he 's 
 An honour to the sons of Hermes ! 
 And Mary, with an anxious brow. 
 And earnest accent, tells him how 
 Her heart had sunk, when she had seen 
 With such a strange and haggard mien, 
 After so long a time had pass'd, 
 The weary Twins return at last. 
 
 * Qui stomachum regem totias corporis esse 
 Contendunt, vera niti ratione videntur. 
 * Q,. Sereni Samomici de Medbcina, &c. 
 
 If it be true that the stomach is the king of the body, what a difference in 
 the physical empire and the political ! In the former, if any of the subjects 
 are out of order, " the king" is made the first to suffer for it ; in the latter, 
 if the king be worse than he should be, it is the subjects, alas I who are 
 physicked ! 
 
 t Every one knows how Mr. Abernethy in his " Book," recommends t&e 
 me^er to pursue famine, in order to arrive at fat. 
 
 K 3 
 
214 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK W, 
 
 She told how (his desire obey'd) 
 The opium draught had been convey'd. 
 Unseen, into the wine-cup's draught — 
 A.nd how unsparingly they quafTd. 
 She told him how, with fairy foot. 
 
 Unto their chamber's threshold creeping, 
 She 'd listened, and when all was mute. 
 
 Had glided in, and mark'd tliem sleeping* 
 She spoke, and wiped the soft eyes, glistening 
 
 With tears, where doubt and fear intruded. 
 Stiff in his chair the doctor listening, 
 
 Was very glad when she 'd concluded. 
 
 And now he rose : " 'T is vastly well, ma'am, 
 " The College ought you to prefer to me ; 
 
 " I '11 just step out — nay ! but to tell, ma'am, 
 " My young men some things that occur to me." 
 
 " Stay, stay— their life, you 're sure ? Nay, more, 
 
 " Their sufferings 1 — " 
 
 " Trust to my sagacity >'* 
 He said, and smiled, and shut the door — 
 
 Your doctors can't endure loquacity ! 
 
 Well, reader ! now the veil is lifted ! 
 And Mary's plot, I fear, is sifted. 
 
 I fear you see how to relieve 
 The Brothers from a thrall of late. 
 Which seemed so dark and loathed a fate. 
 
 One only course she could perceive. 
 But in that strange imperiled course, 
 What fear, and, haply, what remorse ! 
 What hazard in the bold endeavour, 
 Those bonds which birth had knit, to sever 1 
 
 To break the seal so dreadly set 
 
 Upon their common doom ! — to unbind 
 
GHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 215 
 
 The claims which, tho' unnatural, yet 
 Nature herself had round them twined ! 
 Peril there was, and dread ! — yet still 
 The gain seemed weightier than the ill ; 
 And the chill memory of that hour, 
 
 When one against the other raised 
 His guilty hand, had still the power 
 To appal her spirit ; and to sink 
 
 Doubt in the deepness of a feeling, 
 That Fate had stifled Choice : — she gazed 
 
 On the dark, sullen, unrevealing 
 Abyss of doom, — and on the brink. 
 If her soft spirit paused to shrink. 
 She still thought Fate left no retreating, 
 And conscience lulled the weak heart's beating. 
 And now the leech hath with his mates 
 
 Softly the chamber entered ; — 
 Without the anxious Maiden waits — 
 
 All 's still !~ Eternity devours. 
 
 Silent and dark, his offspring hours — 
 The Hours within whose hearts we see 
 
 Life, moving in its mystery, centred ! 
 Those separate drops in Time's great sea, 
 
 In which we Animalcules leap 
 
 To life, from Matter's working sleep ! 
 . And, after that brief span of strife 
 In which we play the fool with life, 
 . Not by one-millionth of the mass 
 
 In the same globule seen— or seeing ; 
 In which to death what millions pass ! 
 
 Their death — the ripeness of new being ! 
 
 Oh ! dark, yet not all starless doom. 
 The blessing twin-born with the curse I 
 
 That frameth one eternal Tomb 
 From the all-teeming universe ! 
 
316 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IV. 
 
 Yet, from the reeking jaws of Death, 
 Calleth again the un quenching breath. 
 
 Making a Universal Soul, 
 For green Decay but to absorb it, 
 
 And Life's rejoicing circle roll 
 For ever thro' Corruption's orbit ! 
 Who hath not sometime pass'd the hours 
 
 In that suspense, o'erwrought, unresting. 
 When one loved dearly, with the Powers 
 
 Of Death's dark angel lies contesting ? 
 How awfully the moments roll 
 To — what unknown and shadowy goal? 
 While he, perchance, unconscious sleeps 
 
 For whom thy spirit's bitterest trial — 
 How the Clock's solemn chiming keeps 
 
 Dread note upon the heart's cold dial ! 
 As scarce you catch the languid moan 
 
 That marks the progress of the strife, 
 How agonizing seems your own 
 
 Intensity and stir of life ! 
 How idle" all the arts and powers, 
 The boasted fruit of learned hours ! 
 Naught there to save — nay, more, to ease, 
 One pang, one shiver of disease ! 
 To gather on the black abyss 
 Balm for thy heart, or strength for his ; 
 Or with thy worst foe. Thought, to cope, 
 Save that poor Impotence — called Hope ! 
 Say — who is fated not to be 
 
 A watcher on that bridge of gloom, 
 Which sways a hair above a sea 
 
 Of Doubt — Despair — and Doom! 
 
 And now, if Mary bore no km 
 To those poor youths, whose fate within 
 Hung on a fearful scale, 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 217 
 
 No marvel that a sister's keen 
 And piercing interest might be seen 
 
 Upon her cheek and in her eye ; — 
 
 No marvel that her nerve should fail, 
 For she was one whose heart run o'er 
 With love, and loving sympathy ; 
 And, womanlike, she ever felt 
 A bond with those with whom she dwelt ; 
 But mostly Mary kindness bore 
 
 To them whose lot seemed desolate ! 
 Far from their home — their natal skies — 
 Their household's first familiar ties ; 
 
 There was in those Twin-brothers' state — 
 
 Their marked and solitary fate — 
 Their life so fettered, and so sterile — 
 Their union past — their present peril — 
 Enough to touch a harder breast ^, 
 
 Than she who loved all earth possess'd. 
 
 And Mary and her father kept 
 
 All night their watch beside the door, 
 
 Save when within the father crept. 
 And back to her some tidings bore : 
 
 The good extoll'd — the worse dissembled^— 
 And ever at the good she wept ; 
 
 And ever at the doubtful trembled. 
 
 And what within that chamber pass'd 1 
 What means, what mysteries did the skill 
 Of that most cunning leech devise ? 
 
 The Brothers' fate was on a cast ! 
 But what the hazard of the dies ? 
 
 Alas ! that is a secret still ! 
 Would, my fair public, that our verse — 
 That art's arcanum could rehearse ; 
 But none might in that chamber venture 
 (Those doctors are such Turks !) to enter — 
 
318 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IV. 
 
 Save only Hodges ; and they set 
 
 On him the muzzle of a vow ; 
 And, tho' the thing is over — yet 
 
 The honest rascal keeps it now. 
 
 Whether by aught else than the knife, 
 
 The attempt was made their bond to sever ; 
 Or, to what point the thread of life 
 
 Was, trembling, strained at the endeavour ;— . 
 Or when they waked, or when they knew, 
 
 Or how they bore that operation, 
 I might invent, but mar the true 
 
 And homely course of this narration. 
 
 'T was kept so close, you might have thought 
 
 A king himself was undergoing it. 
 And that the puzzled doctors sought 
 
 To charm the prying world from knowing it. 
 
 As once, the date 's not far behind, sir, 
 They play'd the game of Mum at Windsor ; 
 And called disease's every harassment — 
 Politely flattering Death — " Embarrassment !" 
 As if plain language might exasp- 
 
 Erate the fates, soft phrases wreathing ; 
 And, when the patient scarce could gasp. 
 
 We heard of " Want of ease in breathing !" 
 
 Nor can I tell how long a space 
 Time ran of his untiring race 
 
 Before the deed was done : — * 
 
 But this I 've heard, that not one shriek, 
 Or cry, did from that chamber break, 
 
 No — not one stifled groan — 
 Save only once — when suddenly 
 There came a sharp and startling cry, 
 So wildly, strangely, forth it rang 
 
 That you could scarcely deem 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 2 It 
 
 From any mortal breast it sprang ; 
 
 But rather might it seem 
 As if the demon who had knit 
 
 That strange and preternatural tie, 
 And did, unseen and brooding, sit 
 
 O'er their enwoven destiny — 
 Dislodged, and baffled in his spell, 
 Had fled their doom in that wild yell. 
 
 Draw up the curtain !— a faint gloom 
 
 Broods quivering o'er the half-lit room, 
 
 (Like a bird's unsteady wing 
 
 To and fro when v/avering). 
 
 Save where the sunlight broadens o'er 
 
 One long track trembling on the floor. 
 
 There, with the smile of trium|ili stands 
 
 The leech, and whispers his assistants ; 
 While the good Hodges rubs his hands, 
 
 And, whimpering, chuckles at a distance. 
 And all alone against the wall 
 
 Lean'd Chang — and joy — albeit a grave 
 And thoughtful joy — was stamp'd on all 
 
 His dusky lineaments, and gave 
 A musing brightness to his gaze ; 
 
 Spellbound, where thro' the lattice fall 
 The living and the laughing rays. 
 As if his heart was whispering — " Free 
 
 " In future, like those roving beams, 
 " 'T is thine to wander, and to see 
 
 " If life and love reflect thy dreams. 
 " Thou 'st joined thy race, and all before thee 
 
 " Lie the untrodden paths of earth ! 
 " Gone is the curse thy mother bore thee ; 
 
 " Thou wakest to a second birth !" 
 
 But on the couch lay Ching, and fixed 
 His gaze upon his brother's face ; 
 
220 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IV. 
 
 And softness there with sorrow mixed, 
 
 And restless wonder you might trace. 
 As if his bosom felt a pain, 
 
 That bonds so long — so close — should cease, 
 And felt, in freedom from the chain, 
 
 The strangeness — more than the release. 
 And once, when he beheld a smile 
 
 Break o'er Chang's lip, he bowed his head, 
 And tears came in his eyes the while 
 
 "Art thou so joyful then?" he said. 
 
 And the long bond was broken there ! 
 
 Apart were those, who from their birth 
 Had grown together — doomed to bear. 
 
 As with one breast, the storms of earth ; 
 Yet ever differing, and disjoined 
 
 By wilder storms within : — and now 
 Reborn, — and with their common kind 
 Made as their fellows — shall they find — 
 
 Ah ! shall they find below 
 The power to gather from the crew 
 Of vulgar thought, tlieir hoard 1 — the boast 
 To be apart from earth ? — above 
 
 Earth's tribes, and in themselves contain 
 (Minioned to none) hope — commune— love 
 
 The source of pleasure and of pain ? 
 
 Shall they find these ? Or shall they rue, 
 
 Too late, what Liberty hath cost — 
 The All that careless childhood knew. 
 
 And pining Manhood lost ? 
 
 Ah ! could we dream, when once possess'd 
 Of one devoted tender breast. 
 How chang'd — ^liow desolate and drear, 
 Without it, would the world appear. 
 
 W^ ^^ 
 
CHAP. II.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 221 
 
 With what a different watch and ward 
 We should the lonely treasure guard ! 
 How breathlessly — how deeply prize 
 What life — -once lost — no more supplies ! 
 
 The Twins are left — the leech's fiat, 
 Unbroken loneliness and quiet : * 
 
 Oh ! what a weary knoll that phrase 
 
 To Thee condemned in pain to pine, 
 And watch th' all-else-rejoicing rays 
 
 That through thy darkened casements shine ! 
 To count the moments creep — how slowly 
 
 To see the Insect on the wing ; 
 In the glad air and sunlight holy, 
 
 To hear the merry throstle sing ! 
 To mark, without, all Earth o'erflow 
 
 With lusty life, exulting, flushing! 
 Then turn within thy heart, and know 
 
 The Golden Fountain from thee gushing. 
 
 Ev'n as a stream whose water strays 
 To some new channel gliding nigh. 
 And, drop by drop, the spring decays 
 
 Until its very heart be dry ! 
 While o'er it fall the same sweet dews, 
 
 While round it creeps the same soft air, 
 Earth in the same delicious hues, 
 
 And life — as if thy life — were there ! 
 
BOOK THE FOURTH. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Chang's soliloquy — His joy — His return homeward — The lovers — ^Their con- 
 versation — The alarm, and the interruption — The disappearance of one of 
 the personages of the poem— Two letters — The fulfilment of a prophecy — 
 The Author's advice to a certain person, and Conclusion. 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 225 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 [Chang alone, upon a hill commanding a wide and va- 
 rious' prospect. The River flowing immediately he- 
 neath. Time., iVoow.] 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! roll on, thou glorious Wave ! 
 
 *' Sing out, thou fresh and mirthful Air ! 
 " Joy • joy '• niy free heart now can brave 
 
 " Your taunts 't was madness once to bear ! 
 " The wild voice of your liberty 
 
 " Can mock my sullen soul no more ! 
 « — How bright are ye, sweet Earth and Sky, 
 
 " That were so dark before ! 
 
 \Motioning away a herd of cattle that 
 approach towards him grazing.^ 
 " Away ! away ! my heart is coy ; 
 
 " Nature is now my Empire ! None 
 "Shall share awhile my new-found throne! 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! the joy — the bounding joy 
 " To be alone — alone !" 
 
 And on he sped — and, aye, his tread 
 
 Was light as if his heart was there ! 
 And his path beside the River's tide 
 
 Danced featly to the piping Air. 
 
 From the herbage young* the laverock sprung, 
 
 And the bird with the jetty wing 
 That flieth low by the copse — also 
 
 Sang its hymn to the loving Spring ! 
 
 * " And sofW as velvet the yonge grassy— -Chaiicer, 
 
226 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IV. 
 
 And the Sun shone bright — and the happy light 
 On the greenwood glade was quivering, 
 
 While the birds in and out the boughs about 
 Made the deft leaves softly shivering. 
 
 Delight was mirrored on the Earth, 
 
 The very clouds were gay ; 
 Time at the Spring that saw his birth, 
 
 Gives all the world a holyday ! 
 
 He came unto a silent pool, 
 
 ■Smooth lay the wave scarce rippleing, 
 
 For trees around the margent cool 
 
 Had duird the light wind's crisping wing. 
 
 Silent he stood, and gazed upon 
 
 His image in the water shown, 
 
 Around his form his glad hands passing, 
 
 That form alone the clear wave glassing. 
 
 Then his lips moved, but without speaking. 
 
 Smiles only round them mutely breaking ; 
 
 And up to the delicious skies 
 
 He raised the deep joy of his eyes. 
 
 The fish were glancing through the tide, 
 
 The fairy birds rejoicing by. 
 Save these — and God — were none beside 
 
 The witness of his ecstasy ! 
 
 And there for hours he staid, until 
 Day died along the western hill ; 
 And slowly then he homeward went. 
 
 And o'er his face a graver thought 
 Had fallen like a veil ; he bent 
 
 His eyes upon the earth, nor sought 
 ^ Round, as before, each thing most fair 
 The rapture of his soul to share. 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 227 
 
 From Truth, how blest soever, flown. 
 His heart is now on visions dwelling, 
 
 That love no more a mock to own 
 He dreams to Mary he is telling. 
 
 Poor youth '.—-what thoughts — what hopes are his ! 
 
 And coloured by the present mood 
 The future glows ; and on its bliss 
 
 No fear — no doubt intrude. 
 
 Mary his own, through life to roam, 
 Her smile his star, her breast his home ; 
 That single hope in every shade 
 Or wave of thought reflected play'd. 
 Nor marvel that no fear disturbed 
 Joy's free delight but just uncurbed ; 
 That form and face so rude should deem 
 That Love could yet the mould beseem : 
 And bid that love round one so fair 
 Entwine its links, and not despair ! 
 So loathly had his fancy shaped 
 That bondage but so lately 'scaped ; 
 So there had every thought of shame 
 On self-abasement found a name ; 
 That that One sense of degradation 
 Had merged each less humiliation. 
 
 And well we may conceive he ne'er 
 
 Reinarked aught odious or unseemly 
 In features all his nation share. 
 
 And think — so Crauford says — extremely 
 Handsome : worse errors here have root, I 
 Have heard such Gorgons praised for beauty ! 
 (For everywhere our lawless taste 
 The strangest monsters hath embraced ; 
 
228 THE SUMESE TWINS. [bOOK IV. 
 
 But this fact useless to repeat is ; 
 
 Just get my learned namesake's treatise.*) 
 
 And, after all, there are some hours 
 
 When every thought comes clothed in flowers. 
 
 When naught 's too bright for us to share, 
 
 Nor aught too high for Hope to dare ; 
 
 When the veins seem to bound a flood 
 
 MoTe nimble than the wonted blood ; 
 
 Some ether, whose quick spirit bears 
 
 A. sort of kindred with Heaven's airs, 
 
 And if mix'd with aught of Earth 
 
 Refines it with a subtle mirth. 
 
 Hours when the heart leaps out beyond 
 
 The thought — the mere thought — to despond. 
 
 When the smooth Judgment pileth schemes 
 
 That mock the laggard Fancy's dreams. 
 
 Hours in which those high plans that leave 
 
 Our very Race below we weave. 
 
 Hours that have leap'd at once to glory ; 
 
 Hours that have given more names to story 
 
 Than ages of the life we plod 
 
 (The bright spark dormant in the clod) ; 
 
 When only Ice and Prudence rule us. 
 
 Or Folly must be tamed to fool us ; 
 
 When with a solemn brow we chide 
 
 The daring thoughts would upward glide ; 
 
 Creep careful on — afraid of falling — 
 
 And laud " the common sense" of crawling ! 
 
 Yet Disappointment hath a keen 
 
 And serpent tooth. And oft, methinks, 
 
 'T were better if no Hope had been. 
 So had we 'scaped the galling links 
 
 * That very quaint, amusing old book, " The Artificial Changeling." 
 
©HAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 239 
 
 By which, when Hope expires, we have 
 A deathless bondage to her grave ! 
 
 Now let us for awhile transport 
 Ourselves into a quiet chamber 
 
 Within the Brothers' cot ; you see 
 Thickly around the casement clamber 
 The woodbine's emerald leaves, that court 
 
 The painted sunfly and the bee. 
 
 The lattice reached the mossy sward, 
 Rich with the cowslip's golden hoard ; 
 And that loved Flower which Poets say 
 Laughs up — the glad " Eyes of the Day,'* 
 And now, in Eve's embrace reposing. 
 Its drowsy lids is whitely closing. 
 
 Within that chamber thgre are those 
 Whom Nature rules, no less than o'er 
 
 The flowers and herbs around ; the rose 
 Bares to the Day her heart's rich core | 
 
 So Beauty melloweth unto one ; 
 
 So the heart opens to its sun ! 
 
 By Mary's side, her hand in his, 
 
 Her lover kneeleth. 
 And from that hand his truant kiss 
 
 Still to her ripe cheek stealeth ; 
 But sorrow pales its wonted hue^ 
 
 She feels not now the thrill. 
 The glow — that rouse and yet subdue ;— 
 
 Her heart lies mute and chill. 
 And he — ev'n he — ^the while he sought 
 
 Her grief to comfort or to chide, 
 Ev'n he felt one o'erpowering thought 
 
 Of anguish stifle all beside* 
 L 
 
230 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IV. 
 
 " Be soothed," he said ; " we part — but yet 
 
 " One hope our severed souls will cheer, 
 " And all the past we most regret, 
 
 " Shall chase away the future fear. 
 " Oh ! while in distant lands I toil 
 
 " For wealth, thy Sire's consent to buy, 
 " Thy thoughts, like dew, shall bless the. soil, 
 
 " Thy love, like stars, smile from the sky. 
 *' And never, love, believe me, never 
 
 *' Did those who through all changes bore 
 " The heart unchanging Fate so sever 
 
 " But that they met — we '11 meet once more ! 
 " I do not say be true to me, 
 
 " I know that deep and tender heart ! 
 " I only tell thee — ' Live to see 
 
 " How lov'd — how truly lov'd — thou art !* 
 " Ah ! what are years to those whose thought 
 
 " Can bear them o'er the gulf of space ? 
 " By grief itself my soul hath bought 
 
 " The right to fly to thine embrace ! 
 " Methinks, if when once more we meet, 
 
 " The form be bowed, the locks be thin ; 
 " 'T is but thy welcome eyes to greet, 
 
 " To light Youth's lamp once more within ! 
 " Age is not made for us ! — No ! all 
 
 " The Past defies its withering breath ! 
 " The snows of Time on Love may fall, 
 
 " And only warm the soil beneath. 
 " Well, weep, — weep on ! for hearts like ours 
 
 " Methinks 't is sometimes wise to weep ! 
 " For if our love had flowed o'er flowers, 
 
 " It ne'er had been a stream so deep ! 
 
 ♦* If Joy the fancy most beguiles, 
 
 " 'T is Grief that to the heart endears ; 
 
CHAP, m.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 231 
 
 " Oh ! slight the love which springs from smiles, 
 " To that which has been nurs'd in tears 1" 
 
 He ceas'd — for many feelings rushed 
 Upon him, and all language hushed. 
 O'er his hands his face he bent, 
 
 And his breast heaved thick and high ; 
 But not a sound from his closed lips went, 
 
 His thoughts warred silently. 
 
 But Mary o'er him bowed her fond 
 
 And anxious eyes, that ceased to weep t 
 
 When those she loves she sees despond, 
 A woman's sorrow glides to sleep ; 
 
 She shames the grief so lately bared,. 
 
 And comforts where she just despaired, 
 
 " Thou speakest well," she answered, placing 
 
 On his her wan and trembling hand ; 
 " And henceforth every dark thought chasing 
 
 " The Seraph Hope, we will withstand. 
 " I often think, that breasts may be 
 
 " In absence only more allied : 
 " A moment's thought estranged from thee 
 
 " Were nothing, wert thou by my side ; 
 " And I have vexed thee — to my shame, 
 
 " When thou wert by, and I was gay, 
 " But, oh ! the least look thon couldst blame 
 
 " I could not look — and thou away ! 
 ." And if our love — " 
 
 He lifts his eye 
 
 Upon her worn and altered cheek ; 
 And his words, fierce and suddenly. 
 
 Upon her melting accents break. 
 
 *' Our love ! oh, name it not ! — I feel 
 " Now — now, how guilty I have been ! 
 L2 
 
233 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IV. 
 
 " Why did 1 let my lips reveal 
 
 " What should have preyed untold within 1 
 *' Our love ! — my love hath blighted thee 
 
 " And tliine ! — Oh, would that I could tear 
 " Away that holy band, and be 
 
 " The only victim to despair !" 
 
 " Julian !" Her voice's music trembling, 
 
 Lulled his disturbed soul, 
 As, thought in tenderness dissembling, 
 
 Gently its whispers stole» 
 " What ! wouldst thou change what now thou bearest, 
 
 " Ne'er to have been beloved by me ? 
 " And think'st thou I would take the fairest 
 
 " Lot, for one memory less of thee 1 
 " When the poor Indian boy to-day, 
 
 " Redeemed — regenerate — and released, 
 " I saw bound forth upon his way, 
 
 " On nature and glad thought to feast ; 
 " When through the happy fields he fled, 
 
 " Until the distance barred my gaze, 
 *' I sighed — nor shared his joy ; I said, 
 
 " Alas, in vain his eye surveys 
 " The beauty and the pomp — the springs 
 
 " That well in glory o'er the earth ! 
 " The tree that blooms — the bird that sings-— 
 
 " The cloud — the star — the solemn birth 
 " Of eve — the hum — -and stir of noon — 
 
 " The motes that dance for very mirth — 
 " The charmed face of the witched moon— 
 
 " The mystery and the soul of things — 
 " Touch but his outward sense, nor win 
 " To the deep source entombed within — 
 " Such as they are — ^not felt — ^but viewed-— 
 " To the unwakened multitude ; 
 
CHAP, m.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 3^0 
 
 " Such as they are, to those who prove not 
 
 " How hfe in life can centred be ; 
 " Such as they are to those who love not ; 
 
 And ere I loved, they were to me ! ■ 
 " For him, whatever in this far land 
 " Breathes but one hope of love, is bann'd. 
 " For him, no anxious eye that glasses, 
 "What in the soul's dark ocean passes; 
 " For him, no thought for ever tending 
 " His image — with his image blending, 
 " Merging all life itself to be 
 " A shadow and a memory. 
 
 " For him, no glance that we have given, 
 " For him, no feeling we have known — 
 
 " True, that one curse is from him riven, 
 " A worse is left — to be alone ! 
 
 " Wouldst thou not rather bear a wo 
 " Far deeper than thou yet hast proved ; 
 
 'f Than feel that Indian's joy — ^yet know, 
 " Like him, thou never couldst be loved ?'* 
 
 Hark ! there went forth a groan ! 
 
 By the lattice the boughs were stirr'd, 
 And the heavy step on the threshold stone. 
 
 Of a heavy heart was heard ! 
 
 As a bolt that hath parted 
 
 A tree in sunder ; 
 At the sound they have started 
 
 In fear and wonder. 
 
 The one as for combat stands, 
 
 The other half turns in flying ; 
 The maid with her clasped hands. 
 
 The Lover with nuen defying ! 
 
234 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK IV. 
 
 A moment — all was still ! he pass'd 
 
 Unto the casement, and unbarr'd ; 
 There the wan Moon, just risen, cast 
 
 A ghastly whiteness o'er the sward. 
 
 And there — full in that spectral gleaming, 
 Around his dark rude features streaming — 
 As some bronz'd image in a wood, 
 
 Lifeless, but lifelike, which to see 
 
 Gloom sternly out, and solemnly, 
 Curdles tne blood, — the Indian stood 
 Erect and mute — ^his raven hair 
 
 In the dead stillness all unwaving ! 
 And in his brow and lip, despair 
 
 Her strange and dread defeature graving. 
 But in his mien that Power of Awe, 
 
 That hush'd nor conscious haughtiness— 
 Which human forms can only draw 
 
 From grief's most desolate abyss. 
 He spoke nor stirred; — nor even gazed 
 On him, who — shuddering and amazed. 
 Wherefore he knew not, — now drew nigh^ 
 
 But when the maid, emboldened, pass'd 
 Upon the sod — on her his eye 
 Dark and dilatingly he cast,. 
 
 Oft, in the midnight's blackest hour, 
 
 That look agam before her grew ! 
 Oft its intense and freezing power 
 
 Curdled the daylight's brightest hue. 
 The future ne'er could all control 
 
 That vision from her haunted eyes ; 
 It left a ghost upon her soul. 
 
 Which Memory could not exorcise ! 
 Nigh drew the lover — yet more nigh — 
 
 When, slowly breaking from his trance. 
 
 The Indian with a quiet glance, 
 
CHAP. Ill;] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 235 
 
 And a gesture slow and high, 
 Waved him back commandingly. 
 
 Then still — no single feeling spoken — 
 That drear and awful pause unbroken, 
 Where the Night her fortress kept 
 O'er the trees that darkling slept, 
 And the thickness of the shade 
 From all eyes a curtain made. 
 Whence the very stars were banished — 
 Like an evil dream he vanished ! 
 
 When he went — they breathed more light, 
 
 And Julian's heart awoke. 
 And he chid himself that so strange an awe, 
 Had suffered the Indian to withdraw 
 Alone — and in the night; 
 
 But a word to Mary there he spoke- 
 He plunged the copse amid, 
 
 He shouted out with a lusty cry. 
 But the faintest trace from his gaze was hid, 
 
 By the trees that bann'd the sky ; 
 And his voice on the stillness vainly broke, 
 
 Nor an echo gave back reply ! 
 And all that night the boy returned not ; 
 
 The morrow waned — he came not back ; 
 The next day pass'd — and still they learned not 
 
 A single clew his fate to track. 
 
 They sought to lure the brother's fear, 
 
 By stories framed to guile his ear ; 
 
 How Chang had been ordained to roam. 
 To find new channels for the thought, 
 Of late self-preying and o'erwrought ; 
 
 But soon he would reseek his home ; — 
 
 Wistful, Ching heard, and answered naught : 
 
2d6 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IT. 
 
 All the while their features eying, 
 With a iix'd look, sharp and prying ; 
 And, when he withdrew that look, 
 Mutteringly his head he shook, 
 And his doubts but thinly shrouded 
 With a restless brow, and clouded. 
 
 On the fourth day came the two 
 Letters that we place before ye, 
 
 Which, perchance, suffice to show 
 The last denouement of our story ! 
 
 TO HODGES. 
 
 We meet no more ! — to other lands, 
 
 But not my native land, I roam ! 
 Something of memory makes me yet 
 
 Unfit for home ! 
 All that the stinted heart demands. 
 Enough for nature's primal debt, 
 Nor more — I bear with me away. 
 The happy may have many wants,, 
 But Misery is a sage, and scants 
 Our nature to the claims of clay : 
 The rest is yours, and by each band 
 Which your enwoven laws command. 
 ^uty from you doth the bond require 
 Consent to one — my last — desire. 
 The last at least, confess'd to you, 
 
 Or heard within that happy shore, 
 To me, — ah, if to memory too ! 
 
 A haunt no more ! 
 
 Hear me ! — all earth — all earthly life 
 
 Hath in it a mysterious gerb ! 
 Where'er thou look'st, behold it rife ! 
 
 It stirs the still, heart of the herb i 
 
chap; in.J the Siamese twins. 237 
 
 In every breath of air it enters ; 
 In every drop of dew it centres ; 
 It glows upon you with the Ught ; 
 Dreams thro' the quickening hush of night ; 
 No wave so deep but there it lurketh ; 
 No clod so still but there it worketh ; 
 Nerve to whate'er your sense is seeing ; 
 Heart to this Universal Being ; 
 From whence — to which — the mighty flood 
 Of Things — to Nature's veins the blood — 
 Arise — return — involved — unsleeping — 
 In one eternal orbit keeping ! 
 
 What is this spirit ? — what this rife 
 Essence 1 — " The principle of life 1" 
 So earth may call it — but above, 
 Thy God and Nature's named it — love ! 
 Thou canst not mar it in the tree ! 
 
 Thou canst not mar it in the flower ! 
 But o'er it, in the human breast. 
 
 Thou hast a power ! 
 Yet use that fearful power, and see 
 
 What fruit will spring from love suppress'd ! 
 The Nature thou hast wronged, will be 
 
 In evil and in wrath redress'd ! 
 
 Love checked — comes thought congealed and sour ; 
 The pinched heart doth itself devour ; 
 The blood grows sluggish ; and Desire 
 
 Creeps into Envy ; — all beside 
 Enjoy — and hate — ^nor hell hath ire 
 Like that their joys in him inspire. 
 
 To whom the joy 's denied ! 
 
 Bar love — and ban the light and air ! 
 
 Love shut from out the unwholesome mind, 
 L3 
 
238 THE SIAMESE TWINS, [bOOK IF. 
 
 And the mind stagnates into night ^ 
 And all the blessings of our kind 
 Flit o'er the vision, but to find 
 The very senses dumb and blind ! 
 
 Ail savage climes confess this truth ! 
 They war not with its voice ! — -the youth 
 Singles the maid his heart prefers, 
 And all that heart must gain is hers ! 
 Go man ! — look round thy quiet home 1 
 
 Go look upon thy child — 
 if o'er that face a cloud hath come-— 
 
 Where once thg sunshine smil'd ; — 
 If in the cheeks' blent roses, grief 
 Hath gnawed the damask from the leaf, 
 If her lip tremble when she greets thee, 
 If her step falter when she meets thee, 
 If, when you speak of joy, her cold 
 And calm look mock the smile of old, 
 If others' wo and others' weal 
 Less than she felt she seem to feel, 
 If virtue'' s praise, which once her eye 
 Flash'd when she heard — fall heedlessly 
 Upon her shut and deafened heart — 
 If sorrow scarcely seem to sting. 
 
 So buried is the dart, 
 If only when you touch one string, 
 
 To life the senses start — 
 Then tremble your own work to see ! 
 
 Tremble to think one human will 
 Can o'er another's bliss or bane. 
 
 Hold such o'erwhelming destiny 1 
 Tremble to think not only pain,, 
 And wo, and death — you can ordain 
 To your own flesh ; but, darker still. 
 The change from heavenly thought to ill f. 
 
CHAP, m.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 239 
 
 From the warm heart and genial feeling, 
 To the shut breast condensed, congealing !^ 
 From the pure stream whose waters laugh'd 
 joy_freshness — health — around to waft, 
 To that all lock'd and lifeless ice, 
 The veriest element of vice I 
 
 Go — fall upon thy daughter's neck. 
 
 And thank Heaven's mercy that the wreck 
 
 Is not yet wholly done ! 
 Rejoice, that yet 't is thine to make 
 
 Her life as lovely as it seemed, 
 When first Emotion learned to take 
 
 The hues that Fancy dreamed. 
 Go ! seek for him whose love hath won 
 
 The heart, that thou alone canst bless, 
 
 Go glad this desert earth has one, 
 
 When thou her sire from earth art gone, 
 
 To make thy daughter's happiness ! 
 And that what sternness marred before, 
 'T is given to Mercy to restore 1 
 
 I know in your— as every — clime. 
 Wealth's want is deemed the sternest crime, 
 I know, and have for this provided — 
 
 The gold I leave to thee is thine. 
 That those twin souls its lack divided. 
 
 Its gain may let thee join ! 
 This is the compact ! — if the moon 
 
 Ere thrice it wanes their bridal see. 
 
 Then thine the precious dust will be, 
 To thee, not them, the glittering boon ; 
 Because I know this yellow spell 
 Works with a twofold miracle. 
 Reject or grasp it, still it rules, 
 If woo'd by knaves or spurned by fools ! 
 
240 THE SIAMESE TWINS". [bOOK IV; 
 
 To me 't is naught — yet that refined 
 Dim mist with which its shadows blind 
 The vision of all mental eyes — 
 Which ye — sweet Em^ope's dupes — call wise, 
 Might make these lovers rather choose 
 Hope, peace, life, soul itself to lose — 
 Than bow the stiiF-necked pride to take 
 What I, without a sigh, forsake ! 
 
 Out on your bow'd and narrow souls ! 
 A.11 — all alike one pest controls ! 
 All, all alike — an equal price 
 
 Set on the hack'd and jaundiced drudge ! 
 Yea ! ev'n the few who scorn the vice. 
 
 The virtue in another grudge ! 
 Believe that none beside can spurn 
 The slave whose lies a babe might learn, 
 That, like your own, earth's every race 
 Their hands as cramp'd — their hearts as base I 
 
 Farewell ! — my latest words are spoken ! 
 
 Methmks not wholly vain or wild — 
 Is not thine ice of purpose broken ? 
 
 And thy heart gushing to thy child ? 
 
 Farewell ! and of me while her joy run riot. 
 
 Do not one whisper tell ! 
 But some time hence, when the joy grow quiet, 
 
 Tell her — I loved her well ! 
 
 When on her breast, to the stranger yearning, 
 
 Her firstborn child you see, 
 AVith a face from the pride of the father turning,. 
 
 Give it one kiss from me ! 
 
 If you hear that breast which my mem'ry inherits, 
 
 Ask where the wanderer roam — 
 Say — ^he walks on to the dim land of Spirits — 
 
 Soon may he find his home ! 
 
GHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 241 
 
 TO CHING. 
 
 My brother ! — yes, those letters seem 
 
 As sweet as in our early years ! 
 And like a dark unliving dream 
 
 Just fled — the later past appears ! 
 Each thought that shall thy name recall, 
 
 Must link remembrance with regret. 
 But thou, I know, wilt pardon all 
 
 The madness I may not forget ! 
 That hour — that scene — that solitude — 
 
 The horror of that silent wood — 
 They haunt — they crowd around me still ! 
 
 When the fell spirit urged me on, 
 And that dread deed thy blood will thrill 
 
 If I but name — was all but done ! 
 And thou — ev'n as I write, my heart 
 
 What soft, what melting memories move ! 
 Thy soothing words — thy gentle art — 
 
 Thy pitying and thy noble love ! 
 And in that love thy breast was bared, 
 And the love conquered, and I knew 
 My curse — my phrensy was not shared. 
 
 Nor thou her madd'ning vassal too ! 
 And as I knew — the demon spell 
 
 Forsook my soul, and from my eyes 
 The shadow and the falsehood fell ! 
 
 Ah ! even now Remembrance flies 
 Back to that hour, when on thy breast 
 The curse long-hidden was confess'd. 
 And something of thy nature crept 
 
 Into my own ; and seemed to win me 
 To gentler thought ; — and, as I wept. 
 
 The unwonted Angel stirr'd withm me !: 
 
243 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IV, 
 
 And my whole soul had then been changed, 
 
 Had not the monarch-passion cast 
 Its sorcery ^Well ! thou art avenged. 
 
 And that — yea 1 that is past ! 
 
 I look into my soul, where late 
 So wildly and so darkly whirl'd 
 
 The roar of many waves ! — and hush'd, 
 
 And blank — and mute — and desolate 
 The space is left — the Storm hath furl'd 
 His pinions, — and the waves have rush'd 
 Back from the hollow depths — no wind, 
 
 No ! not a sound the silence breaks ! 
 Thought calls within the ruined Mind,. 
 
 And not an echo wakes ! 
 
 And now alone, and as a dream^ 
 1 pass away ! 
 Cities and Pomp, and all that fire 
 The daring, or the vain desire 
 Delight no more ! — the shadows curl'd 
 Around the far ends of the world. 
 Where human steps have rarely trod, 
 Yet virgin with the breath of God, 
 As when, if true the Hebrew theme, 
 He called them into day ; • 
 These henceforth shall my haunts become I 
 And, o'er the deep void of my breast 
 The Solitude of Awe shall rest. 
 And Silence be my Home ! 
 
 But thou, when I am seen no more. 
 
 Wilt often think of me with kindness — 
 
 And not repent thy love that bore 
 So well a brother's guilty blindness-^ 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWaNS. 24S' 
 
 Yes !; — thou wilt think of all that burned 
 Within me, ere to crime it turned, 
 The passions long concealed — restrained, 
 Until the cloud the thunder gained, 
 And from the gloom, so stilly nurs'd. 
 The phrensy of the tempest burst ! 
 Thou 'It think of all that tempted ; — all 
 
 My soul resisted and o'ercame ! 
 And what thy reason guilt may call 
 
 Thy heart will give a gentler name ! 
 
 May THEY— -how called soe'er — whose sway 
 We feel — we trace not — but obey :. 
 As with a led and hooded will. 
 
 We walk in sorrow, and in strife,. 
 And — Heaven's deluded fools — fulfil 
 
 The curse which man calls life ! — 
 
 May THEY — my brother — pitying light thee 
 
 To blessings Reason fails to see, 
 And may their heavenly love requite thee 
 
 For what thy love has borne from me !" 
 
 And thus the words that in the fane 
 
 Afar — the Brothers' hearts had thrilled 
 Seemed not so wholly false and vain, 
 
 But that their shadows were fulfilled. 
 The Bark, that on the fitful wave, 
 The Star that peril'd served to save. 
 Is moor'd in the calm of its haven-rest, 
 But the Stream rolls on with a lonely breast. 
 
 Many moons have shone and waned. 
 And his bride hath Julian gained ;. 
 
244 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [bOOK IV, 
 
 And for onee the dream of youth 
 Hath paled before a brighter truth — 
 And on their brows, and in their eyes, 
 
 You read the fulness of content, 
 And see that not a rapture dies, 
 
 But peace becomes its monument. 
 
 And glad and lovely is their home — 
 
 You cannot breathe its very air, 
 But what your spirit feels as some 
 
 Diviner angel lingered there. 
 
 They learn that God no scanty worth 
 
 Hath placed — if rightly sought — below ; — 
 And own the kind heart of the earth. 
 
 Hives more of solace than of wo. 
 Misfortune, and our human cares, 
 
 They feel as Nature feels, but quail not ; 
 The eye that soothes — the heart that shares, 
 
 And Hope, and God, are friends that fail not. 
 Well ! — and the Father ? — Oh ! he sees 
 
 Their happiness, and sees it sharing, 
 For joys but rarely fail to please. 
 
 That we believe our own preparing. 
 The homes we build v*'e take a pride in, 
 Although for others to reside in. 
 Moreover, as no small addition to 
 
 His better causes to rejoice — 
 The good man's laudable ambition too 
 
 Has just been flattered in his choice. 
 It never rains but it must pour, 
 
 (Old proverbs all allow the pith in) — ■ 
 And Luck, when once she sends a shower, 
 
 Rains down upon us like St. Swithin. 
 So Julian has, by a relation. 
 
 Been left a legacy not small 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 245 
 
 (And, by-the-by, poor Chang's donation 
 
 Lies, Still untouched, with Messrs. Call; 
 For Julian, when he came to learn it, 
 Persuaded Hodges to return it). 
 Moreover in the late election 
 He won a certain Burgh's affection. 
 Dined — drank — made love to wife and daughter, 
 Poured ale and money forth like water, 
 And won St. Stephen's Hall, to hear 
 * This parliament may last a year !' 
 
 The sire's delight you '11 fancy fully — 
 He thinks he sees a second TuUy ; 
 And gravely says he will dispense 
 
 With Fox's force, and Brinsley's wit. 
 So that our member boast the sense 
 
 Of that great statesman — Pilot Pitt ! 
 For me, my hope lies somewhat deeper : 
 We '11 now, they say, be governed cheaper ! 
 So, Julian, pour your wrath on robbing, 
 And keep a careful eye on jobbing. 
 If you should waver in your choice. 
 To whom to pledge your vote and voice, 
 You '11 waver only- — we presume — 
 Between an Althorpe and a Hume. 
 But mind — one vote — o'er all you hold. 
 And let the Ballot conquer Gold. 
 Do n't utterly forget those asses, — 
 Ridden so long — the lower classes ; 
 But waking from sublimer visions. 
 Just see, poor things ! to. their provisions. 
 Let them for cheap bread be your debtor. 
 Cheap Justice, too — -that 's almost better — 
 And, though not bound to either College, 
 Do n't clap a turnpike on cheap knowledgea. 
 
246 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [BOOK IV. 
 
 For well said Prussia's sceptred sage,* 
 Knaves less than fools corrupt the age ; 
 The errors and the ills of states 
 Vice moulds, but Ignorance first creates. 
 A^nd ne'er forget this simple rule, boy, 
 Time is an everlasting schoolboy, 
 And as his trousers he outgrows, 
 Be decent, nor begrudge him clothes, — 
 Sure that at least his education 
 Will make your kindness reparation ; 
 For can he fail to grow acuter, 
 With watchful Providence his Tutor ? 
 
 In these advices towards your policy. 
 Many, dear Julian, will but folly see ; 
 Yet what I preach to you to act is 
 But what had been your author's practice, 
 Had the Mercurial Star that beams 
 Upon elections bless'd his dreams^ 
 
 Had but we ripen with delay. 
 
 And every dog shall have his day \ 
 
 And Ching ? — Poor fellow ! — Ching can never 
 
 His former spirits quite recover ; 
 Yet he 's agreeable as ever. 
 
 And plays the C k as a lover. 
 
 In every place he 's vastly feted, 
 
 His name 's in every Lady's book ; 
 And as a wit I hear he 's rated 
 
 Between the Rogers and the Hook. 
 
 * Frederic the Great— the posthumous Essay on Forms of Government. 
 His words are — "Incur times Ignorance commits more faults than Vice." 
 The admirable pedantries of the Emperor Julian excepted, the whole of this 
 essay makes perhaps the most enlightened sketch on matters of reasoning ever 
 traced by a royal pen . 
 
CHAP. III.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 247 
 
 But Chang ? — of him was known no more, 
 Since, CorsairUke, he left the shore. 
 Wrapp'd round his fate the cloud unbroken, 
 Will yield our guess nor clew nor token. 
 He runs unseen his lonely race. 
 
 And if the mystery e'er unravels 
 The web around the wanderer's trace — 
 
 I fear we scarce could print his travels. 
 Since Tourists everywhere have flock'd, 
 The market 's rather overstock'd — 
 And so we leave the lands that need 'em, 
 
 Throughout this " dark terrestrial ball," 
 To be well visited by Freedom, — ■ 
 
 And slightly nibbled at by Hall I 
 
L'ENVOI. 
 
I^NVOI.] THE SIAMESE TWINS. 251 
 
 L'ENVOI. 
 
 The tale is done — the dream — the glory--— 
 The smile — hath faded with the story. 
 Round my hushed chamber rolls, in loud 
 And troublous tides, the stormy crowd ; — 
 Forth from his dim, unstarred abode 
 The Unknown Spirit sweeps abroad ; — 
 Lone on their clouded eyries cower 
 The Eagles of Imperial Power ; — 
 As with some new portentous birth. 
 Travails the mighty womb of Earth ; — 
 The herds of men walk wistful ; Rest 
 And Home's calm gladness shun the breast ; 
 Where Influence hath not grown Offence, 
 Broods — mute and hundred-eyed — Suspense ;- 
 Awed and awaked we hold our breath, 
 And nurse a dread like that of death ! 
 This not the hour in which the art 
 Of Song glides dreamlike to the heart. 
 This not the hour when Satire's saore 
 
 o 
 
 And tranquil scorn arrests the age ; 
 Men pluck no flowers on Danger's brink, 
 Nor — ripe for action — pause to think 
 Ev'n now a shame that in this rhyme 
 My soul hath dallied with the time. 
 Steals o'er me : — and methinks I greet — 
 Not mourn — the silence it will meet. 
 Yet in a calm, nor boding day. 
 Thou first was breathed to life, my lay ! 
 And Beauty smiled upon thy birth. 
 And Learning's lips foretold thee — worth ; 
 
259 THE SIAMESE TWINS. [l'eNVOI^ 
 
 And all that seemed thy course f oppose 
 Thy failings — and thy father's foes. 
 But brave thy doom as I have braved, 
 When prudence failed, but daring saved ; 
 Thou canst but bear what I have borne, 
 Till Time hath conquered even Scorn ; 
 The foeman's hate, the friend's neglect, 
 And Hope, the bankrupt's galley, 's wreckU 
 But still the heart " bears up and steers 
 
 Right onward," thro' life's solemn sea ; — 
 Perchance, my lay, the future years 
 
 Thy recompense and mine may be. 
 As waters glass a distant star, 
 We woo some light from Heavens afar, 
 And, imaged in our goul, we dream, 
 The wave that gains, arrests the beam : 
 Hushed in a false content we stray, 
 And glide — ^perchance to gloom — ^away ! 
 
 END OF THE SIAMESE TWINS, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 M 
 
ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 TO 
 
 THE POEM OF "MILTON." 
 
 A CONSIDERABLE part of this poem was written some 
 years ago at college ; the plan of it is now altered, and 
 the additions I have inserted may, perhaps, procure 
 some indulgence for the tameness or the faults of the 
 earlier portion. The first part of the poem is founded 
 upon the well-known, though ill-authenticated, tradition 
 of the Italian lady seeing Milton asleep under a tree, 
 and leaving some verses beside him, descriptive of her 
 admiration of his beauty. Taking full advantage of 
 this legend, and combining with it the fact that Milton 
 appears — if his verses, especially those in the Italian 
 language, are founded on truth — -not altogether to have 
 escaped, in his tour through Italy, the master-passion,* 
 I have suffered it to impart somcAvhat of romance and 
 somewhat of a tale to a • poem originally, and still 
 chiefly, intended as a sketch of the most celebrated of 
 English poets, in the three great divisions of life — 
 Youth, Manhood, and Age. Aware how sacred and 
 solemn is all connected with the Great Poet, I have 
 endeavoured to touch upon so difficult a subject with 
 all delicacy and all reverence. Perhaps there exists 
 
 * Hayley, indeed, in that most audacious piece of biography, the " Life of 
 Milton," in which he has taken almost as much license with fact, as I, with 
 awe at my own temerity, have done under the sanction of verse, speaks thus 
 composedly on the subject, — "It was at the concerts of the Cardinal that he 
 was captivated by the charms of Leonora Baroni, whose extraordinary musioal 
 powers he has celebrated in Latin verse, and whom he is supposed to have 
 addressed as a lover in his Italian poetry, &c." 
 
 M2 
 
256 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 no Other name in the records of literature, in which 
 the same poetical license, if taken on the same'grounds, 
 would be considered by any one as too large an ex- 
 tension of privilege. But here — I confess with will- 
 ingness my fear — ^that I may have erred by suffering 
 the smallest mixture of fancy with truth. I have not 
 done so, however, from an unthinking rashness, or 
 without all due and respectful care. Aiid if it should 
 seem to the well-judging that I have erred, the error 
 (should a second edition ever grant me the opportunity) 
 shall be expunged. The nature of my undertaking has 
 obliged me to give the poem in the shape of fragnients ; 
 and it may be as well to add, that the poem, in its Ori- 
 ginal state, was privately printed some years ago at 
 Paris, though scarcely thirty copies have ever left my 
 hands, and only a hundred were printed. 
 
MILTON. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Such sights as youthful poets dream 
 On summer eves by haunted stream. 
 
 L' Allegro, line J29. 
 
 I. 
 
 It was the minstrel's merry month of June ; 
 Silent and sultry glowed the breezeless noon ; 
 Along the flowers the bee went murmuring ; 
 Life in its myriad forms was on the wing, 
 Broke thro' the green leaves with the quivering beam ; 
 Sung from the grove, and sparkled on the stream : 
 When — where yon beech-tree broke the summer ray — 
 Wrapt in rich dreams of light — young Milton lay. 
 For him the earth beneath, the heaven above, 
 Teem'd with the earliest spring of joyous youth ; 
 Sunshine and flowers — and vague and virgin Love, 
 Kindling his tenderest visions into truth. 
 While Poesy's sweet voice sung over all, 
 Making the common air most musical. 
 
 IL 
 
 Alone he lay, and to the laughing beams 
 His long locks glitter'd in their golden streams ; 
 Calm on his brow sat wisdom — ^yet the while 
 His lips wore love, and parted with a smile : 
 And beauty reigned along each faultless limb — 
 The lavish beauty of the olden day. 
 Ere with harsh toil our mortal mould grew dim — 
 When gods who sought for true-love met him here, 
 And the veil'd Dian lost her lonely sphere — 
 
258 MILTON. 
 
 And her proud name of chaste, for him whose sleep 
 
 Drank in Elysium on the Latmos steep. 
 
 Nor without solemn dream, or vision bright, 
 
 The bard for whom Urania left the shore — 
 
 The viewless shore where never sleeps the light, 
 
 Or fails the voice of music ; and bequeath'd 
 
 Such Howers as ne'er by Thracian well were wreath'd— 
 
 And song more high than e'er on Chian Rock was 
 
 breath'd. 
 Dreams he of nymph hajf-hid in sparry cave. 
 Or Naiad rising from her mooned Avave, 
 Or imag'd idol earth has never Iviiown, 
 Shrin'd iii his heart, and there adored alone ; 
 Or such, perchance, as all divinely stole, 
 in later times, along his charmed soul ; 
 When from his spirit's lire, and years beguil'd 
 Away in lioarded passion — and the wild, 
 Yet holy dreams of angel-visitings, 
 Mix'd With tlie mortal's burning thoughts which leave 
 Ev'n heaven's pure shapes with all the woman warm; 
 Wiien from such bright and blest imaginings 
 The inspiring seraph bade him mould the form, 
 And show the world the wonder — ^of his Eve ? 
 
 Ill, 
 
 Has this dull earth a being to compare 
 
 With those which genius kindles t — Can the sun 
 
 Show his young bard a living shape as fair 
 
 As those which haunt his sleep ? — Yea, there is one, 
 
 Brighter than aught which fancy forms, mos* dear — 
 
 Brighter than love's wild dream ; audio ! behold lerhere ! 
 
 She was a stranger from the southern sky, 
 
 And wandering from the friends with whom she rov'd 
 
 Along those classic gardens — chanced to stray 
 
 By the green beech-tree where the minstrel lay. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Silent — in wonder's speechless trance — she stood 
 With lifted hand, and lips apart — and eye 
 Gazing away the rich heart as she viewed : 
 
MILTON. 259 
 
 Darker than night her locks fell clustering 
 
 O'er her smooth brow, and the sweet Air just moved 
 
 Their vinehke beauty with his gentle wing ; 
 
 The earliest bloom of youth's Idalian rose 
 
 Blush'd thro' the Tuscan olive of her cheek — 
 
 (So thro' the lightest clouds does morning break)— 
 
 And there shone forth that hallowing soul which glows 
 
 Round beauty, lilie the circling light on high, 
 
 Which decks and makes the glory of the sky. 
 
 Breathless and motionless she stood awhile. 
 
 And drank deep draughts of passion — then a smile 
 
 Play'd on her lip — and bending down, her hand 
 
 Trac'd on her tablet the wild thoughts which stole, 
 
 Like angel-strangers, o'er her raptur'd soul ; 
 
 For she was of the poet's golden land. 
 
 Where thought finds happiest voice, and glides along 
 
 Into the silver rivers of sweet song. 
 
 V. 
 
 O'er him she lean'd enamour'd, and her sigh 
 
 Breath'd near and nearer to his silent mouth, 
 
 Rich with the hoarded odours of the south. 
 
 So in her spiritual divinity 
 
 Young Psyche stood the sleeping Eros by ; — * 
 
 What time she to the couch had, daring, trod 
 
 And — ^by the glad lightf — seen her bridegroom god ! 
 
 Did her locks touch his cheek ? or did he feel 
 
 Her breath like music o'er his spirit steal ? 
 
 I know not — ^but the spell of sleep was broke ; 
 
 He started—faintly murmur'd — and awoke ! 
 
 He woke as Moslems wake from death, to see 
 
 The Houris of their heaven ; and reverently 
 
 He look'd the transport of his soul's amaze : 
 
 And their eyes met ! — The deep — deep love suppress'd 
 
 For years, and treasur'd in each secret breast, 
 
 Waken'd, and glow'd, and centred in their gaze. 
 
 * In allusion to that most beautiful of the ancient tales, the story of 
 Cupid and Psyche, in Apuleius. 
 
 t It is said in the story, that the lamp itself partook of -the serene gladness 
 on the countenance of the god. 
 
2^0 MILTON. 
 
 And their eyes met — one moment and no more I 
 
 Nurs'd in bright dreams of old romantic lore, 
 
 Of eastern fairies gliding on the beam, 
 
 Or Grecian goddess haunting minstrel's dream ; 
 
 He rose — and tho' no faintest voice might stir 
 
 His lips — he knelt adoringly to her, 
 
 And gazed his worship ; but the spell was past, 
 
 And the boy's gesture broke the breathless charm, 
 
 And maiden's shame, and woman's swift alarm, 
 
 Burningly o'er the Italian's soul was rushing ; 
 
 And her lip trembled, and her pulse beat fast, 
 
 And with a thousand new-born feelings blushing — 
 
 She turned away — and with a step of air 
 
 She fled, and left him mute and spellbound there.* 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 « 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 VI. 
 
 Time waned, and thoughts Intense, and gi'ave, and high, 
 
 In that young mmstrel mixed with softer dreams, 
 
 Yet never vanished wholly from his eye 
 
 The wandering star of love's Ausonian sky ; 
 
 But aye and ever, in his memory 
 
 Set as a heaven, its lov'd and haunting beams 
 
 Glass'd their dim beauty m his soul's deep sea. 
 
 Time waned — and o'er his cheek the darkening hue 
 
 Of manhood settled — and the long desire 
 
 Which he had nursed within him, till it grew 
 
 A passion — to behold that heart of earth 
 
 Yet trembling to the echoes of the lyre 
 
 That Virgil woke, and Tasso strung anew, 
 
 Became his guide ; — and for the shrine of Rome 
 
 A pilgrim bound — he left his father's home. 
 
 With a deep heart he drank the mighty lore 
 
 That floateth o'er the saddened Clime of Song. 
 
 Beheld the starry sage,t what time he bore. 
 
 For Truth's dear glory, the immortal wrong ; 
 
 *The whole of the above lines make the part of the poem first writteiV 
 t la allusion to the story of Milton's visit to Galileo. 
 
MILTON. 26 i 
 
 Held no light commune with the master-minds 
 Of that fast ripening day ; and all he saw, 
 Or felt, or learned, or dream'd, were as the winds 
 That swelled the sails of his majestic soul, 
 As then— ev'n then — with ardour yet in awe 
 It swept Time's ocean to its distant goal. 
 
 VII. 
 
 It was the evening — and a group were strewn 
 O'er such a spot as ye, I ween, might gee. 
 When basking in the Summer's breathless noon. 
 With upward face beneath the murmuring tree ; 
 While in a vague and floating sleep arise 
 Sweet shapes and fairy knolls to the half-conscious eyes. 
 It was the evening — still it lay, and fair, 
 Lapp'd in the quiet of the lulling air. 
 Still — ^but how happy ! like a living thing 
 All love itself — all love around it seemg ; 
 And drinking from the earth, as from a spring, 
 The hush'd delight and essence of its being. 
 And round the spot — a wall of glossy shade — 
 The interlaced and bowering trees reposed ; 
 And through the world of foliage had been made 
 Green lanes and vistas, which at length were closed 
 By fount, or fane, or statue, white and hoar, 
 Startling the heart with the fond dreams of yore. 
 And near, half-glancing through its veil of leaves, 
 An antique temple stood in marble gTace ; 
 Where still, if fondly wise, the heart believes, 
 Lingers the pining Spirit of the Place. 
 Seen wandering yet perchance at earliest dawn 
 Or grayest eve — with Nymph or bearded Faun. 
 Dainty with mosses was the grass you press'd, 
 Through which the harmless lizard glancing crept. 
 And — wearied infants on Earth's gentle breast — 
 In every nook the little field-flowers slept. 
 But ever when the soft air drew its breath 
 (Breeze is a word too rude), with half-heard sighj 
 From orange shrubs and myrtles — ^wandereth 
 The Grove's sweet spirit borne in fragi*ance by. 
 
 M3 
 
263 MILTON. 
 
 And aye athwart the alleys fitfully 
 Glanc'd the fond moth enamoured of the Star. 
 And aye, from out her watch-tower in the tree, 
 The music which a falling leaf might mar, 
 So faint — so faery seem'd it — of the bird 
 Transformed at Daulis thrillingiy was heard. 
 And in the centre of that spot which lay 
 A ring embosom'd in the wood's embrace, 
 A fountain clear as ever glass'd the day, 
 Breathed yet a fresher luxury round the place ; 
 But now it slept, as if its silver shower. 
 And th« wide reach of its aspiring sound, 
 Were far too harsh for that transparent hour : — 
 Yet — like a gnome that mourneth undergromid — 
 You caught the murmur of the rill which gave 
 The well's smooth calm the passion of its wave ; 
 Like one who pours the thoughts that will not rest 
 Into the quiet of a loving breast. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And^ group'd around the fountain o'er the green. 
 Were Dames and Gallants of a form that threw 
 Naught meet to mar the spell— upon the scene. 
 Such group — they were as old Boccacio drew ; 
 Or fairest samples of some galliard throng, 
 Born to the zest of Chaucer's lusty song. 
 The warm Sun's darling offspring — ^Wines and Fruit — 
 Were idly scattered o'er the sod- — nor there 
 Forgot Italia's living voice — the Lute — 
 And sweet, I ween, the whisper'd tones, the air 
 Bore only to her ear for whom they burn'd ; — 
 Ah, sound ! for which whoe'er hath loved — so oft hath 
 yearn'd, 
 
 IX. 
 
 But mid that graceful meetmg, there were none 
 
 Who yielded not to him — that English guest. 
 
 Nor by sweet lips half wooing to be won. 
 
 Were witching words and brightest smiles suppressed : 
 
MILTON. 263 
 
 And starry eyes " rained influence" round the form 
 Where Beauty never set a nobler thrall 
 For heart or fancy — and the wild and warm 
 Thoughts of that sunny clime took wing, and pour*d 
 Into such verse as yet Time's crypt hath stor'd. 
 Oh ! little dream'd those flatterers as they gazed 
 On hiin — the radiant cynosure of all, 
 When on their eyes his youth's fresh glory blazed, 
 What that bright heart was destined to befall ! 
 That worst of wars — ^the Battle of the Soil- — 
 WTiich leaves but Crime unscath'd on either side ; 
 The daily fever, and the midnight toil ; 
 The hope defeated, and the name belied ; 
 Wrath's fierce attack, and Slander's slower art. 
 The watchful viper of the evil tongue ; — 
 The sting which Pride defies- — but not the heart— 
 The noblest heart is aye the easiest wrung : 
 The flowers, the fruit, the summer of rich life. 
 Cast on the sands and weariest paths of earth ; 
 The march — but not the action — of the strife 
 Without ; — and Sorrow coil'd around his hearth : 
 The film, the veil, the shadow, and the night, 
 Along those eyes which now in all survey 
 A tribute and a rapture — the d^spifce 
 Of Fortune wreaked on his declining day ; 
 The heap'd clouds labouring upward round his heart 5 
 Oh ! little dream'd they this ! — or less what light 
 Should from those clouds — a new-born glory — start | 
 And from the spot man's mystic Father trod, 
 Circling the round Earth with a solemn ray. 
 Cast its great shadow to the Throne of God ! 
 
 X. 
 
 Tiie festive rite was o'er— the group was gone,. 
 Yet still our wanderer lingered there alone^ 
 For round his eye, and in his heart, there lay 
 The tender spells which cleave to solitude. 
 Who, when some gay delight hath passed away^ 
 Feels not a charmed musing in his mood, 
 
264 MILTON. 
 
 A poesy of thought, which yearns to pour 
 
 Still worship to the Spirit of the Hour ? 
 
 Ah ! they who bodied into Deity 
 
 The rosy Horn's, I ween, did scarcely err. 
 
 Sweet Hours, ye have a life, and hohiy 
 
 That life is w^orn ! and when no rude sounds stir 
 
 The quiet of our hearts — we inly hear 
 
 The hymnlike^ music of your floating voice, 
 
 Telling us mystic tidmgs of the sphere 
 
 Wherein — in linked chorus — ye rejoice ; 
 
 And filling us with calm and solemn thought, 
 
 Diviner far than all our earth-born lore hath taught. 
 
 With folded arms and upward brow, he leant 
 
 Against the pillar of a sleeping tree. 
 
 When, hark ! the still boughs rustled, and there went 
 
 A murmur and a sigh along the air, 
 
 And a light footstep, like a melody. 
 
 Passed by the flowers—he turned — What Nymph is 
 
 there ? 
 What Nymph ! what Dryad from the green recess I 
 Emerging into beauty like a star ! — 
 He gazed — sweet Heaven! 'tis she wnose loveliness 
 Had m his England's gardens first (and far 
 From these delicious groves) upon him beamed, 
 And looked to life the wonders he had dreamed. 
 
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 XL 
 
 They met again and oft ! what time the Star 
 Of Hesperus hung his rosy lamp on high ; 
 And the Witch Night shook from her solemn car 
 A hquid magic o'er the breathless sky* 
 
MILTON. 265 
 
 And Mystery o'er their lonely meeting threw 
 
 A charm earth's common ties can ne'er bestow — 
 
 Her name — ^lier birth — ^her home he never knew ; 
 
 And she— his love was all she sought to know. 
 
 And when in anxious or in tender mood 
 
 He prayed her to disclose at least her name, 
 
 A look from her the unwelcome prayer subdued ; 
 
 So sad the cloud that o'er her features came : 
 
 Her lip gTew blanch'd, as with an ominous fear, 
 
 And all her heart seem'd trembling in her tear. 
 
 So worshipped he in silence and sweet wonder, 
 
 The unknown Egeria of his haunted soul ; 
 
 And Hope — life's checkering moonlight — smiled 
 
 asunder 
 The doubts that cloudlike o'er him sought to roll. 
 And thus his love grew daily, and perchance. 
 Was all the stronger circled by romance. 
 He found a name for her, if not her own. 
 Haply as soft, and to her heart as dear — 
 His life — ^his " Zoe" — Ah 1 of all names, none 
 Make so divine a music to the ear 
 As that by lovers coin'd — the childlike art 
 That breathes to vulgar words the fond thoughts of the 
 
 heart ! 
 Creep slowly on, thou gray and wizard Time — 
 Thou gray and wizard Time, creep slowly on— 
 Ev'n I would linger in my truant rhyme. 
 Nor tell too soon how soon those hours were gone. 
 Flowers bloom again — leaves glad once more the tree- 
 Poor life, there comes no second Spring to thee ! 
 
MILTON. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Protinus insoliti subierunt corda furores 
 Uror amans intus, flammaque totus eram. 
 
 Interea misero quae jam mihi sola placebat 
 Ablata est oculis non reditura meis. 
 
 Milt. Elbg. VII. 
 
 I. 
 
 Fair Plato, in the garden of thy soul, 
 
 The very weeds were lovelier than the flowers 
 
 Which crown the toil of others ; the sweet showers 
 
 That fed the tides — ^the golden tides — that roll 
 
 Along the rich soil of thy reason, fell 
 
 From Heaven ! — they bear the odour of their birth, 
 
 Where'er the waters that received them swell ; 
 
 Whether in glory o'er the sun-lit earth. 
 
 Or whether murmuring thro' the mystic cell, 
 
 Where the dim Error, like a moonbeam, calls 
 
 Wild beauty from each fancy where it falls ;— 
 
 They bear the odour, and the perfumes rise 
 
 O'er the luU'd sense, and breathe soft whispering of 
 
 far skies ! 
 Fair Plato, when thy spirit dreamed that Fate 
 Consigned our souls to this low-thoughted sphere, 
 Stored with vague memories of a former state, 
 Which made our powers — our hopes — our reason here ; 
 So that whate'er we deem we learn is naught, 
 Save dark revivals of some gorgeous thought 
 Born in a nobler being ; — was the lore 
 Tinged by no glimmering from the land of Truth ? 
 Does not the heart recall, in passion, more 
 
268 MILTON. 
 
 Than the Earth dreams of? — Do we not aspu^ 
 In love to that which Life's love never knows 1 
 What cloth this trite world with the vague desire, 
 The restless cravings, and the fruitless throes. 
 The pining after shadows of our youth 1 
 Wiiy, when we love, does the high Heaven appear 
 Nearer and lovelier, and all like a shore 
 Trodden in childhood ; and the solemn sphere 
 Which the stars hallow, grow a lyre, whose notes 
 Are like faint music, most beloved of yore ? 
 Is it that love must be the memory least 
 Forgotten in this exile, and, recalled. 
 It brings a thousand images — like motes 
 Dim — but yet bathed in sunlight — disentln-alled 
 Atoms from that bright being which has ceas'd? — 
 Yes, fond Athenian, with thy maze of thought. 
 Still will I deem one truth, at least, was blended, 
 And the pure light thy wildest wanderings sought, 
 Ne'er on a lovelier truth, I ween, descended ! 
 Yes, tho' withm the temple of the mind 
 No brother Angel linger yet behind, 
 Pining for brighter worlds, the exile Love 
 Lifts from, the shrine his homeward gaze above ! 
 
 11. 
 
 The lovers met at twilight, and in stealth- 
 Sweet Love, thou hast no magic like concealing — 
 And the rich hours Youth stealeth from old Time, 
 Become a world more precious for the stealing. 
 Each hour but cofters joys — the real wealth 
 Which life should garner in its eager prime, 
 Ere years exhaust the produce, and the power 
 To make the produce treasure — and we see 
 The blast, which smites the glory from the flower, 
 Chill into rest the wanderings of the bee ! — 
 They met — the breathing love of that deep sky, 
 Which bask'd o'er waves where Naiads wont to bind 
 " The loose train of their amber-dropping hair ;" 
 Or glanced thro' shades where whilom wandered by 
 The leaf-crown'd Dryad, startling from their lair, 
 
MILTON, 269 
 
 Satyr and piping Faun ; or eyed the lymph 
 
 Of glassiest fountain ; while the dimpling wind 
 
 Ne'er marred the mirror ; and fall many a Nymph 
 
 Trooped thro' the greenwood with her huntress-queen, 
 
 And paus'd, and glanc'd around, and long'd to lave 
 
 Her white limbs in the smooth and liquid sheen, 
 
 Till where the murmuring branches veil'd the eye 
 
 Of the enamoured sun, all timorously 
 
 She gave her pomp of beauty to the wave ; — 
 
 No, the deep sky of Italy and Love, 
 
 Never when god and goddess joy'd to stray 
 
 By wood and wave — saw lovers from above 
 
 More loving, and more worthy love, than they ! 
 
 All Nature was a treasury, which their hearts 
 
 Rifled and coin'd in passion ; the soft grass — 
 
 The Bee's blue palace in the violet's bell — 
 
 The sighing leaves, which, as the day departs. 
 
 The light breeze stirreth with a gentle swell — 
 
 The stiller boughs blent in one emerald mass, 
 
 Wlience, rarely floating the luU'd Eve along, 
 
 Some unseen linnet sent its vesper song — 
 
 All furnished them with images and words 
 
 And thoughts which spoke not, but lay hush'd like 
 
 pray'r — 
 Their love made earth one melody, like birds, 
 And call'd rich life from all things, like the air. 
 What in that lovely climate doth the breast 
 Interpret not into the lore of Love ! 
 Who gazes ev'n upon the hues that rest, 
 Bathing in sunlight o'er the pictured dream, 
 To the false canvass conjured by sweet Claude, 
 And feels not in his heart the pulses move 
 As to a Syrian music ; till half-awed 
 Ev'n by th' excess of luxury, and oppressed, 
 And, as by spells Ogygian, all unmann'd 
 Into one sense of rapture — ^he might deem 
 The landscape breathing with one charm'd command — 
 " Love, ye who gaze, — for this is Love — your monarch's 
 
 —land !" 
 
270 MILTON. 
 
 III. 
 
 But all round them was life — ^the living scene, 
 
 The real sky, and earth, and wave, and air ; 
 
 The turf on which Egeria's steps had been, 
 
 The shade, stream, grotto, which had known her 
 
 care. 
 Still o'er them floated an inspirmg breath — 
 The odour and the atmosphere of song — 
 The legend — glory — verse — ^that vanquish'd death m 
 Still thro' the orange glades were borne along, 
 And sunk into their souls to swell the horde 
 Of those delicious thoughts the miser Passion stored '• 
 Love oft is conquered by Ambition's lust. 
 But Love, I ween, hath ever his revenge — 
 Ambition moulders, and her marble bust. 
 Her ivied arches, and the pillar'd range 
 Of her long temples, and her regal halls — 
 Yea ! ev'n the desolation of her dust. 
 Become to Love the ministers and food ! 
 For in such scenes the passion triumphs most ; 
 And ev'n within the Cesars' ruin'd walls 
 The very zeal which fills the solitude, 
 And paints the bare stone with an armed host. 
 Rouses unseen, but vividly, a brood 
 Of thoughts which turn to passion — for whate'er 
 Deep Fancy nurtures in the cell " Romance," 
 Hath in its very nature seeds that bear 
 Fniit unto Love. All memory is a trance. 
 In which Love is the fondest of the dreams — 
 Or — let us change the image — in the shrine 
 Of the veil'd soul there is a lyre whose themes 
 Are vow'd to love — the feelings are its strings — 
 Touch one — ^and on the altar — the divine 
 Music is stirr'd— and thus the notes we raise 
 In our fond thought — ^to Virtue — Valour — Praise- 
 Worship — Grief — Memory — are but spells which 
 
 move 
 The hidden spirit of the lyre of Love ! 
 
MILTON. 271 
 
 IV. 
 
 But they required no fuel to the flame 
 
 Which burnt within them, all undyingly, 
 
 No scene to steep their passion in romance, 
 
 No spell from outward nature to enhance 
 
 The nature at their bosoms — all the same 
 
 Their love had been if cast upon a rock. 
 
 And frown'd on from the arctic's haggard sky ; 
 
 Nay — ev'n the vices and the cares, which move — 
 
 Like waves — o'er that foul ocean of dull life, 
 
 Which rolls through cities in a sullen strife 
 
 With heaven™ had raged on them, nor in the shock 
 
 Crumbled one atom from their base of love ; 
 
 And, like still waters, poesy lay deep 
 
 Within the hushed yet haunted soul of each. 
 
 And the fair moon, and all the stars that steep 
 
 Heaven's silence and its spirit in delight. 
 
 Had with that tide a sympathy and speech ! 
 
 For them there was a glory in the night, 
 
 A whisper in the forest, and the air ! 
 
 Love is the priest of Nature, and can teach 
 
 A world of mystery to the few that share. 
 
 With self-devoted faith, the winged Flamen's care. 
 
 • V. 
 
 In each lay poesy — for woman's heart 
 
 Nurses the stream, unsought, and oft unseen ; 
 
 And if it flow not through the tide of art. 
 
 Nor woo the glittering daylight — you may ween 
 
 It slumbers, but not ceases ; and if check'd 
 
 The egress of rich words, it flows m thought, 
 
 And in its silent mirror doth reflect 
 
 What e'er Afiection to its banks has brought. 
 
 This makes her love so glowing and so tender, 
 
 Dying it in such deep and dreamlike hues. 
 
 Earth — Heaven — creative Genius — all that render 
 
 In man their wealth and homage to the muse ; 
 
 Pouring their pomp into the golden verse. 
 
 The vision and the vague delight of song. 
 
 In her produce but feelings which disperse 
 
273 MILTON. 
 
 Their powers in love — the consecrated throng 
 
 Of dreamier thoughts that from the muverse 
 
 We store — to two gods— Love and Song — are plighted, 
 
 But woman's soul is Love and Song miited. 
 
 O treasure ! which awhile the world outweighs 
 
 The mine of fondness m a woman's heart ! 
 
 What are the triumphs of our after-days, 
 
 To what — to ev'n the dream of what — thou art ! 
 
 But these are vow'd to Sorrow's funeral pyre, 
 
 Ev'n in the bud— life's earliest fruits and best ! 
 
 And Thought but gleans cold ashes from the fire, 
 
 To hoard and bury in that urn the breast ! 
 
 Ev'n as a child upon the waterside, 
 
 Love standeth truant on Fate's flowing river, 
 
 And plucks in wanton idlesse every flower 
 
 (In youth how many flowers !) which grows beside, 
 
 And weaves them into Avreaths, and laughing flmgs 
 
 One after one the garlands on the tide 
 
 (While to the deep the Avater rolls, and never 
 
 Back to the idler's hand the oflering brings) ; 
 
 Till all around is rifled, and the pride 
 
 Of life's whole summer lavish'd in an hour ! 
 
 VL 
 
 Twice thro' her course the Carian's goddess rode 
 
 Since thus they met ; and well, I ween, she shone 
 
 Not upon others as for them she glowed, 
 
 For their life was a mystery ; and had grown 
 
 An essence and a spirit of all things 
 
 Most fair and most divine — the o'erflowing springs 
 
 Of their bright being were like blessed tides. 
 
 Fed from the river which the land divides 
 
 The mifallen father of the nations trod ; 
 
 When peace and bliss dwelt by the amaranth sides 
 
 Of the smooth wave, reflecting as it flowed 
 
 The forms of Angels and the breath of God ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 'T was eve ! and Zoe watched upon the hill 
 Where they were wont to meet — the parting ray 
 Of him adored in Delos — luxf^eved still 
 
MILTON. STS 
 
 O'er the dark pine, and through the breathless boughs 
 Gliding, fell broadly on the ruins gray, 
 That at her feet in desolate glory lay. 
 Among those wrecks arose the glossy green 
 Of that sweet plant which blooms for lovers' brows. 
 And Venus wore in Ida ! — ^there the vast 
 And sullen foliage of the Aloe cast 
 A shadow o'er the marble — ^there the scene 
 Wore like a smile the wall-flower's odorous bloom ! 
 Where Zoe stands, the Cesars' palace stood, 
 And from that lofty terrace — ye survey 
 The towers — ^the temples — the eternal tomb 
 Where Memory guards the buried name of Rome ! 
 Beyond, the Tiber, on his shrunken way. 
 Mourns songless onward to the Tyrrhene sea 
 Thro' Latium's wastes, that sadden ceaselessly 
 With many a shattered sepulchre bestrewed. 
 Baring their breast unto the lazy death 
 That creeps along the dull air's rotting breath! 
 And there, in amphitheatre afar. 
 The hills lay basking in the purple sky. 
 Till all gTew gray — and Maro's shepherd star 
 Watch'd the soft silence with a loving eye ; 
 j^nd — ev'n as one who walketh in a sleep — 
 The Moon rov'd dreaming, o'er the night sky's solemn 
 steep. 
 
 VIII. 
 " He comes not" — Zoe murmiu-ed — " yet the hour 
 " Hath pass'd — and — ^hark — ^how ominously, o'er 
 " The silent air from Nero's Golden Tower, 
 « Hoots the owl's startling cry ; and to the core 
 " Of my chill'd heart strikes like a voice of ^ioom ! 
 " He comes not — ^yet the moon is high— before 
 " His footstep never tarried — Heaven, if aught 
 " Of peril cross'd his path !— How deep a gloom 
 " Broods o'er the hollow of yon shattered arch ! — 
 " What if— ay, there — there Ues the startling thought,^ 
 " Which, ev'n beside him, hath the power to blast 
 " As with a ciu"se— the summer of my soul ! 
 
2t4 MILTON. 
 
 " What form glides there ? Ha ! sure by yonder lareh 
 
 " Athwart the gloom — a human shadow stole, 
 
 " I heard the black boughs rustle as it pass'd. 
 
 " O God, before whose eye the felon night 
 
 " Forgoes her veil, and broadens into light, 
 
 " Protect his pathway from the lurking death, 
 
 " The bought assassin's dagger ! Oh my heart, 
 
 "Be still — ^be still or break! — He comes — ^my breath 
 
 " Grows thick with rapture, and the life streams dart 
 
 "As if to waste the very veins away. 
 
 " He comes ! How blest the silence which doth 
 
 melt 
 " Beneath the music of his footstep ! Air, 
 " How my lips drink thee, since thy tides have felt 
 " The thrilling odour of his rich breath — where 
 " The perfume, and the sighing sounds of May, 
 " Weave o'er the face of night a soft and blossoming 
 
 day! 
 " My glorious stranger, welcome ! Ah ! as one 
 " Wlio watcheth daylight on the mountain's brow, 
 " Has my soul longed for thee — and I have won 
 " The boon at last. Thou beamest on me now ! 
 " But why so cruel, dearest ? thou must measure 
 " The past suspense — dread — torture — with the bliss 
 " That now flows forth in tears — thou art a treasure 
 " So vast — so wondrous — that to merely miss 
 "Thee from my side — fills my whole frame with 
 
 fear! 
 " And, truant, see how Dian from her vault 
 " Tells thee how long my heart hath sickened here, 
 " And dares — what I may not — upbraid thee with thy 
 
 fault." 
 
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 They sat them on a fallen column, where 
 The wild acanthus clombe the shattered stone, 
 Mocking its sculptured mimicry which there 
 Was graven on the pillar'd pomp o'erthrown ; 
 
MILTON. 275 
 
 And in its deathless, but unflowering green, 
 Typing th' immortal wrecks — and barren pride of scene ! 
 There seem'd naught living near them ; Zoe's arm 
 Was round her lover — and her cheek was press'd 
 Upon his shoulder — Oh ! the thrilling charm 
 Of that dependence — when we feel the breast 
 On which we lean, bounds all the heart and hope 
 Which till that breast was fomid — ^thought worlds too 
 barr'd a scope ! 
 
 IX. 
 " And tell me, feel'st thou not our lone retreat, 
 " Drink from our love an ether of delight ? 
 " And tell mie, if like mine thy heart hath beat 
 " Thro' the long, dull day, with one wish for night? 
 " Night — most beloved night, that marks us meet — - 
 " Alas ! alas ! that we should ever part !" 
 
 " And wherefore should we ? — ^Are we not become 
 
 " Each to the other, all beneath the skies ? 
 
 " My heart flies to thy presence as its home, 
 
 " And sleeps beneath the shadow of thine eyes ! 
 
 " Wherefore, my Zoe 1 Thou art to my sight 
 
 " Not as a dream, but as the soul of dreams, 
 
 " Their essence, life, and immortality ! 
 
 " The focus of the wild and scattered bearas, 
 
 " That woke the Memnon of my minstrelsy. 
 
 "Rome left, I leave not thee ! — but if too soon 
 
 " Compell'd, I wander backward to my doom, 
 
 " Thou — as yon star clings ever through the gloom, 
 
 " Fast by the pathway of the pilgrim moon, — 
 
 "Thou wilt still shine, unsevered by my side, 
 
 " My star of faith and love, my blessing and my bride !" 
 
 She answered not, but trembled ; and he raised 
 Fondly her downcast cheek — the rose was fled, 
 And like a mourner o'er it, in the stead. 
 Sat paleness there, and droop'd— the tender eyes 
 That shunning, met his ovm, were wet with tears ; 
 And that subdued and stricken thought, which wears 
 
276 MILTON. 
 
 Wo — as a nun, the hope-entombing veil — 
 Silent and self-consuming, cast its gloom 
 O'er her still features, and their touching bloom ! 
 He gazed, and felt within him as he gazed 
 The bold and haughty spirit sinlt and quail — 
 As if the omen of no idle fears 
 Crept to his heart, and with a voice of bale 
 Spoke of his baffled youth — his manhood's loveless 
 years ! 
 
 " Thou dost not answer, Zoe ; — can it be 
 
 " That I have lov'd too wildly ? — true, that ne'er 
 
 " Hast thou reveal'd thy birth, thyself, to me ; 
 
 " But hast been worshipp'd in my heart and prayer 
 
 " Unknown, and glorious, like a mystic light, 
 
 " Or dim-seen future, to my soul prefated ; 
 
 " Or shape, that in the weird and passionate night, 
 
 " I won some heavenly magic, and created ! 
 
 " But now, Love, let me lure thee from thy shade, 
 
 " My bright Egeria — be a mortal maid, 
 
 " Lift the all-idle mystery from my heart — 
 
 " And tell me, fairest, what and whence thou art !" 
 
 Eager his eye, and anxious was his tone. 
 And the half smile that o'er his features shed 
 A moment's hurried brightness wan'd and fled, 
 As ceased his words. 
 
 She with a tender look, 
 Made soft by sadness and a silent fear, 
 And with a voice, which summoned from its throne 
 The charmed heart unto the haimted ear. 
 After a pause replied: 
 
 " I will not brook 
 " Mine own, to gaze upon the dark thought, thou 
 " Hast conjur'd to appal me ! — leave me ! Heaven ! 
 " Leave Rome, and me ! — Nay, nay, unknit that brow !" 
 
 " List to me, Zoe ! — In my father's land, 
 
 " For ages have our bold race bow'd the knee 
 
MILTON* 27T 
 
 '* To false gods fed on that idolatry, 
 
 ** Which maJceth what it worships. It is given 
 
 " The Mighty Hour, in which our hearts shall leap, 
 
 ** As at a trumpet, from their Pagan sleep ; 
 
 " And light shall burst into our souls, that we 
 
 " May Imow the faith which bids God's images be free ! 
 
 " For this at morn, — ^ere the exulting sun 
 
 " Flush o'er the eastern heav'n — as the gray light 
 
 " Toils up the rear of Darkness — ^hath begun 
 
 " My solemn orison ; — for this, the Night 
 
 " Hath, by a thousand shadows, dreams, and signs, 
 
 " Fill'd my stern heart with Hope, whose truth it now 
 
 divines ! 
 ** Yea, ere I loved thee, Zoe — ere I asked, 
 " Ev'n if the love of women were for me, 
 "There was one Shape, one Queen, for whom I tasked 
 " The powers and prowess of my infancy. 
 " Still, shining, pure, and circumfus'd in all 
 " The calmness and the glory of old days, 
 " Oft (as in loneliest cell), in haughtiest hall, 
 " Unseen by others, gleam'd she on my gaze; 
 " And when I ask'd the name on which to call, — 
 " When chaf 'd beneath the pomp, the power, the gaud, 
 " Which the dup'd Many deck with hollow laud, 
 " My deep soul sickened that fair face to see, — 
 " Truth from the womb of Time did answer * Liberty I* 
 " And now she calls me with an angel's voice 
 " Homeward, o'er land and ocean to her cause ; 
 *' And my blood burns within me, that the choice 
 " Of hour and clime, in which His loftiest laws 
 ♦* He rights — our God hath cast, albeit in strife, 
 " Upon the age and land in which I drank my life !" 
 
 She look'd upon that brow so fair and high, 
 Too bright for sorrow, as too bold for fear ; 
 She look'd upon the light of that large eye 
 Which dream'd not of the blindness glooming near. 
 She look'd, and sigh'd ; and vdth a trembling hand 
 Touch'd his young arm : he turn'd — ^the knit command, 
 
 N 
 
278 MILTON. 
 
 The fiery spirit of his features grew 
 Soft and more soft — ^until, as clouds pursue 
 Each other, shadowing o'er some star above, 
 All sternness fled, and left his face to Love ! 
 
 " Come then, my Zoe, on this pilgrimage, 
 
 " This high and noble travail of the soul ; 
 
 ♦' Come, be my guide, my partner, and my staff, 
 
 " My hope in youth, my haven in my age ! 
 
 " Come, if the world forsake, or Fate control, 
 
 " Or Fortune leave me — and the bitter rage 
 
 " Of Foes, in love with Fetters, make me quaff 
 
 " Ev'n to the last the hemlock of the bowl, 
 
 " Reserv'd for those, who, vanquish'd, chafe the tide 
 
 " Of Custom's ire, its passions, and its pride : — > 
 
 " Come — ^be my spendthrift-heart's last lonely hoard, 
 
 " My wealth, my world — ^my solace, my reward. 
 
 "Come — though from marble domes, and orange 
 
 bowers — 
 " Come to an humble roof, a northern sky ; 
 " Love's fairy halls and temples shall be ours, 
 " And our heart's sun the ice of earth defy. 
 "Trust me, though Fate may turn each hope to gall, 
 " Thou at thy choice, belov'd, shalt ne'er repine ; 
 " Trust me, whatever storm on me may fall, 
 " My breast shall ward the blast, the bolt, from thine ! 
 " Yes ! as the bird on yonder oak which breathes 
 " Soul into night, thy love shall be to me ! 
 " Yes ! I will be that oak which ever wreathes 
 " Its boughs, though leafless, into bowers for thee ! 
 " And when the sunshine of thy life be set, 
 " And beams, and joy., and pomp, and light depart, 
 " There is one shelter that will shield thee yet, 
 " Thy nest, my bird — ^thy refuge in my heart !" 
 
 He ceased ; and drew her closer to his breast ; 
 Wildly her bosom heav'd beneath his own ; 
 From her sweet lips, beneath his kisses press'd, 
 Gush'd lier heart's fulness in a raurmur'd tone ; 
 
MILTON. 279 
 
 And o'er her bent her lover ; and the gold 
 
 Of his rich locks with her dark tresses blended ; 
 
 And still, and soft, and tenderly, the lone 
 
 And mellowing night upon their forms descended ; 
 
 And thus amid the ghostly walls of old, 
 
 And curtain'd by the blue and starry air. 
 
 They seem'd not wholly of an earth-born mould, 
 
 But suited to the memories breathing there^ — 
 
 Two Genii of the mix'd and tender race. 
 
 From fairest fount or tree^ their homes who singled-— 
 
 Last of their order doom'd to haunt the place, 
 
 And bear sweet being interfused and mingled, 
 
 Draw through their life the same delicious breath, 
 
 And fade together into air in death ! 
 
 Oh ! what then burned within her, as her fond 
 
 And pure lips yearn'd to breathe th' enduring vow t 
 
 All was forgot, save hun before her now — 
 
 A blank, a non-existence, lay beyond — 
 
 All was forgot — all feeling, thought, but this- — 
 
 For ever parted, or for ever his ! 
 
 The voice just stirs her lip^ — ^what sound is there ! 
 
 The cleftstone sighing to the rushing air ? 
 
 The night-bird rustling through the startled tree ? 
 
 The loose earth 
 
 With a wild, yet stifled cry, 
 Sprang Zoe from her lover. " Can it be ? — 
 " Mercy, oh Heav'n !" 
 
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 N2 
 
MILTON., 
 
 PART III. 
 
 I argue not 
 Against Heaven's hand or will— nor bate a jot 
 Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer 
 Right onward— what supports me, dost thou ask ? 
 The conscience. Friend ! 
 
 , Milton's Sonnet to Cvriac Skinner. 
 
 L 
 
 Long years have flown ! — and where the Minstrel 
 
 now? — 
 Manhood hath set in clouds upon his brow 1 — 
 Midnight is past-^the solitary lamp 
 Burns in his cell — and o'er his cheek the ray 
 Doth like the dim smile of a sick man play — 
 Pale is his lordly front, and toil and thought 
 Have darkly there their furrow'd witness wrought : 
 Still as he bends him to his task — the damp 
 Wrung from the frame which fails the unconquered will, 
 Grows o'er the hueless forehead, fast, and chill, 
 And ever with each pause, that lonely light 
 Flares hot and scathing on his aching sight 
 
 XL 
 
 Alas ! no more by golden palaces, 
 By star-lit founts and Dryad-haunted trees, 
 Shall Fancy waft her Votary's willing soul. 
 But on he journey'd through a rugged plain, 
 Lur'd by the glory of the distant goal. 
 And in that midnight solitude, though pain 
 And fever wore his heart — and he could feel 
 O'er his dim eye the dull film darkly steal. 
 
282 MILTON. 
 
 Yet did he shrink not — ^though the lip grew pale 
 And the frame feeble — though the sight might fail. 
 And the lone Night his sad companion be ; 
 Yet on, exulting soul ! — ^thy path is clear. 
 On — on for England and for Liberty ! 
 
 IIL 
 
 Yes ! though the fierceness of that fiery time 
 
 Might sear the holiest spirit into crime. 
 
 Though the stern thought of ages, where the drear 
 
 And starless Night of bondage dwelt in fear. 
 
 Where all her gloomiest spirits were combined 
 
 To cramp the powers, and check the march of mind. 
 
 The grinding priest, the noble's linked thrall, 
 
 And the one despot darkening over all ; 
 
 Tho' the harsh memory of such days might well 
 
 Sour the stern souls of men who made their path 
 
 Thro' blood to freedom ; — and the jealous wrath 
 
 Of those who, girt with snares and foemen, feel 
 
 They hold their hard-won treasure by the steely 
 
 A breath will waken — ^victory scarce can quell. 
 
 And virtue, turn'd to passion, serves to swell,. 
 
 So that the storms of justice blindly break 
 
 And leave the guilty, while they wreck the weak :— 
 
 Yet were there men and minds in those wild years 
 
 More worthy than the Romans' vaunted name 
 
 Of the heart's homage due to Freedom's fame, 
 
 And the sweet tribute of that People's tears, 
 
 Who but for their rude worth were crouching now 
 
 With slavery's Cainlike brand upon each brow ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 And thou of whom I sing, whose name hath been 
 
 Polluted by the Schoolman's bigot breath, 
 
 The dull wise fool — ^the oracle of boys. 
 
 Decking lean nothings with the pomp of noise— 
 
 Thou who hast twin'd thy laurels ever-green 
 
 With those which mingled with wild flowerets bloom 
 
 ^ound sweetest Shakspeare's fairy-haunted tomb — » 
 
MILTON. 283 
 
 Thine are the holier honours yet to twine 
 
 Proud wreaths with Hampden for thy country's shrine. 
 
 To thy lone cell — celestial Liberty 
 
 Came as a Spirit, and reveal'd to thee 
 
 Her seen, and felt, and full divinity ! 
 
 Call'd with the light from Chaos — round her feet 
 
 She saw the dim clouds of long ages march, 
 
 Shrouding all else — the column and the throne. 
 
 The blasted laurels and the broken arch ; — 
 
 Rolling from earth to heaven, and sweeping there 
 
 The very Gods from their Olympian seat. 
 
 Changing and crumbling in one common scathe 
 
 The shrines made hallow'd by a hollow faith, 
 
 Without one trace along the empty air ; — 
 
 But Empires fell — Religions pass'd away 
 
 As life renew'd sprung kindling from decay — 
 
 But her nor time — nor chance — nor fate could mar — 
 
 But left all bright and glorious as a star. 
 
 There— thro' the gloomy records of gone years, 
 
 The unvarying tale of terrors and of tears — 
 
 Thro' wastes of danger, darkness, and distress 
 
 Glow'd the still beauty of her holiness — 
 
 Ev'n as the Pillar through the desert shone, 
 
 Leading the faint, and weak, and weary on — 
 
 Bright thro' the cloud, and calm amid the blast 
 
 To that blest Canaan — which shall come at last ! 
 
MILTON. 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 Thus with the year 
 Seasons return, hut not to me returns 
 Day, or the sweet approach of even or mom. 
 Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, 
 Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; 
 But cloud instead, and ever-during dark: 
 Surround me. 
 
 Paradise Lost, Book VII. line 25 
 
 Though fall'n on evil days, 
 In darkness, and with dangers compass'd round, 
 And solitude, yet not alone, while thou 
 Visit'st my slumbers nightly, or when mom 
 Purples the east. 
 
 Paradise Lost, Book IIL line 40. 
 
 I. 
 
 Day had arisen in the autumn heaven 
 
 Clearly and coldly bright — the yellow leaves 
 
 Strew'd the sear earth, or fitfully were driven 
 
 Before the wild path of the scattering air. 
 
 The swallow from the hospitable eaves 
 
 Flew forth exulting on his rapid way, 
 
 And thro' the sadness of the waning year 
 
 Sung out like Hope^ — ^feut ev'n as gathering Care 
 
 Stern winter comes to mar that matin lay. 
 
 Amid the grove, the laurel's lonely tree, 
 
 Hallow'd by old tradition, still is seen 
 
 Dight in the lustre of its deathless green— 
 
 A smile on Nature's cheek ; — meet type, I ween, 
 
 Of that high fame which grows immortally — 
 
 Thro' time which changes, and thro' storms which sear, 
 
 Bright'ning thro' gloom, and freshening o'er decay. 
 
 Na 
 
%BQ MILTON. 
 
 II. 
 
 There sat an old man by that livmg tree 
 Which bloom'd his humble dwelling-place beside— 
 The last dim rose which wont to blossom o'er 
 The threshold had that morning droop'd and died, 
 Nipp'd by the withering air ; the neighbom-ing door 
 Swmig on its hinge — within you well might hear 
 The clock's low murmur bickering on the ear — 
 And through the narrow opening you might sefr 
 The sand which rested on the uneven floor, 
 The dark-oak board — the morn's untasted fare. 
 The scatter'd volumes, and the antique chair 
 Which — ^worn and homely — -brought a rest at last 
 Sweet after all life'^s struggles with, the past. 
 
 III. 
 
 The old man felt the fresh air o'er him blowing 
 Waving the thin locks from his forehead pale, 
 He felt above the laughing sun was. glowing, 
 And heard the wild birds hymning in the gale. 
 And scented the awakening sweets which lay 
 Couch'd on the bosom of the virgin day — 
 And felt thro' all — and sigh'd not — that for him 
 The earth was joyless, and the heaven was dim. 
 Creation was a blank — the light a gloom, 
 And life itself as changeless as the tomb. 
 High — ^pale — still — voiceless — emotionless — alone-— 
 He sat — like some wrought monumental stone — 
 Raising his sightless balls to the blue sky ; 
 Life's dreaming morning and its toiling day 
 Had sadden'd into evening — and the deep 
 And all august repose — which broods on high 
 What time the wearied storms have died away. 
 
 Mighty in silence — ^like a Giant's sleeps 
 
 Made calm the lifted grandeur of his brow. 
 
 And while he sat, nor saw ; a timorous foot 
 
 Drew near — a pilgrim from a foreign land, 
 
 And of God's softer race ; — and hush'd and mute 
 
MILTON. 281^ 
 
 She gazed upon that glorious brow ; for this — 
 This only gaze — on One whose orb of Fame 
 Yet slowly laboured up from Time's abyss 
 To its unwaning noon, — afar she came ! 
 And as she gazed the hot unconscious tears 
 Flowed fast and full — her heart was far away ! 
 Thro' change and care, and long aind bitter years, 
 How had lorn memory sickened for this day ! 
 And now * * * **** * 
 
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 IV. 
 
 Our life is as a circle — and our age 
 Turns to the thoughts and feelings which engagi 
 In our young morn the vision and the vow, — 
 For manhood's years are restless, and we learn 
 A bitter lesson — ^bitterer for the truth — 
 Which suits not with the golden dreams of youth, 
 And wearies us in age- — and so we yearn. 
 Sated and pall'd, for Boyhood's bliss once more. 
 But ere the world forsakes us — on we flow 
 Passive and reckless with its mingling tide 
 Till night comes on — and passions which betray'd 
 Our reason, quit the ruins they have made — 
 The winds are luU'd — the hurrying waves subside. 
 And leave upon the lone and sterile shore 
 The baffled bark their wrath had wreck'd before. — > 
 
 V. 
 
 Slight is our love in age to thoughts which bear 
 Man's ruder lot of conflict and of care — 
 As roves from gaudier tints the aching eye, 
 Woos the pure green, and dwells delighted there, 
 So loves the soul the world has worn, to fly 
 Languid and weak the glitter and the glare, 
 And on the fresh tints of its verdant days 
 To turn and drink deep quiet in the gaze. 
 The visions of the Minstrel, which in vain 
 Bad woo'd his noonday — brightly roll'd again 
 
388 MILTON. 
 
 Like stin-lit waters o'er his mind, and gave 
 Tlie waste the welcome freshness of the wave. 
 
 VI. 
 
 There, as a river in its hidden course, 
 
 Mighty and secret thro' his spirit flow'd 
 
 The inspirations none but God might see, 
 
 The cave their channel, and the rock their source. 
 
 But rolling on to Immortality. — 
 
 Old — ^blind — deserted — lone amid the crowd, — 
 
 No hope — save those of heaven — upon the earth,— 
 
 Amid the wrecks of Freedom only free. 
 
 Cold— rapt— estrang'd amid that courtly mirth 
 
 Where Pleasure lent the veil to Tyranny, — 
 
 He stood — ^Uke some gray Column far away 
 
 From life — and crumbling in its proud decay — 
 
 There wildest flowerets bloom — and nightly there 
 
 Wails with mysterious voice the wandering Air — 
 
 Amid the stars— -the dews — the eternal hills — 
 
 And the far voices of the dashing rills — 
 
 Amid the haunted darkness of the night 
 
 When earth and heaven are mingled in their might. 
 
 It stands begirt with each — and looks on high 
 
 Thro' Shade and Cloud to commune with the Sky^ 
 ******** 
 
 * * * * * * * * 
 
 Beneath a church's chancel there were laid 
 
 A great Man's bones, — and when the crowd was gone. 
 
 An aged woman, in black robes arrayed, 
 
 Lingered and wept beside the holy stone. 
 
 None knew her name, or land ; her voice was sweet. 
 
 With the strange music of a foreign tongue : — 
 
 Thrice on that spot her bending form they meet. 
 
 Thrice on that stone are freshest garlands hung. 
 
 On the fourth day she came not ; and the wreath, 
 
 Look'd dim and withered from its odorous breath ; 
 
 And if I err not wholly, on that day, 
 
 A soul that loved till death, had passed away 1 
 
 THE END OF MILTON.^ 
 
( 289 ) 
 
 ON THE VANITY OF SMALL SUCCESSES. 
 
 Ergo hominum genus incassum frustrdque laborat 
 Semper, et in curis consumit inanibus aovum. 
 
 LucRET. Lib. 5, 1. U29» 
 
 Sick, wearied, worn ; the harsh Ixion wheel 
 - Within the heart shall have a moment's rest ; 
 And thoughts — deep thoughts, I would but rarely feel. 
 Shall not be now repress'd. 
 
 Out on this curse of earth ! we toil — ^we yearn, 
 
 We coil and shrivel the smooth heart with care ; 
 We make each hour a task — ^Arid our return ? — 
 
 Go — ask our tombs — 't is there I 
 
 God, that from this small and wizard ring 
 
 The pent but all-impatient soul could strain i 
 Lo! round the air — within the exulting wing — 
 Why this eternal chain ? 
 
 We see — ^\ve feel — ^we pant — and we aspire, 
 
 Ay ; for one hour we dream we ham arisen ; 
 Earth fades below — ^we wake — 
 
 behold the mire, 
 
 And grating of our prison ! 
 
 Oh ! that our youth had dream'd to what an urn 
 
 Of dust our quick and high desires would shrink ! 
 We stand upon the beach — and ask return. 
 
 For barks ordained to sink ! 
 
 There's not one plank on which we freight an aim 
 Purer than aught by life's coarse natures sought. 
 Which the harsh sea ingulfs not :— can we blame 
 Those who adventure naught t 
 
290 ON THE VANITY OF SMALL SUCCESSES. 
 
 But in a calm and chill philosophy 
 
 Suppress within them each more vague desire ; 
 For them no half-felt feelings pant and sigh ; 
 
 No unfledg'd hopes expire ! 
 
 Mother of Fate — ^primeval Night — thine old 
 
 And mivex'd oracles are round me still ; 
 The sybil Stars, and She who lost her cold 
 
 Name on the Carian Hill ! 
 
 Say thou, — for in thy weird and demon homes 
 Thou shroud'st the spectres of departed lore, 
 Dread Egypt's mysteries, and the mouldering tomes> 
 From which the Samian bore 
 
 The treasure of his doctrine ! — ^All that glow'd 
 
 Out from the heart of man in ages gone, 
 Like perish'd stars into thy black abode. 
 
 Without a dirge have wonne ! 
 
 Say — ^boots our labour ? — ^Were it not more wise 
 To drink Life's tide unwitting where it flows. 
 Renounce the high-soul'd toil, and only prize 
 
 The Cnidian vine and rose ! 
 
 True, for some few on whom her slavish smile,. 
 
 Fame — ^the false Lais of the doting sage — 
 Bestows — there may be somewhat to beguile 
 Youth's travail into Age ! 
 
 The laurel Julls the aching brow it decks ; 
 And the loud paeans of the gazing horde, 
 As speeds our bark among surrounding wrecks. 
 Bring no disdained reward. 
 
 But here, among the dense and struggling herd, 
 
 For me no proud success and glory wait ; 
 The wronging judgment and the venomed word, 
 The Envy and the Hate 
 
TO JULIET. 291 
 
 Envy and Hate ! — ^for what ? — ^for boons so slight, " 
 That I could gnaw my heart that mine they are. 
 Did I not know that proud heart's baffled flight 
 
 Sought meeds how different far ! 
 
 O Night ! — ^my woo'd, and won, and earliest friend. 
 
 Was it for this* my soul I shaped and bowed. 
 And from my dreams* Olympus did descend 
 
 To the self-vassall'd crowd? 
 
 Seeking — nor yet with vulgar wish — ^to wield 
 
 Arms coldly lov'd — but in a cause of Right — 
 Content for that — light hours and love to yield, 
 
 Was it for this— sweet Night t 
 
 Thou answerest not — but round thee, lo ! the cloudsi 
 
 Are darkening into ire — the Moon is gone, 
 And the ghost stars lie waii within their shrouds, 
 
 The storm sweeps labouring on ! 
 
 Shine out — shine out, my true and steadfast soul — 
 
 My answer and my solace come from thee ! 
 Round earth's,low heaven — ^the shade, the storm may roll, 
 Thou art a Heaven to me! 
 
 Foes — and Life's baffled ends — ^the hydra birth 
 
 Of cares — ^upon thy front can stamp no frown, 
 But on the shifts and phantoms of the earth 
 
 Thou with a smile look'st down ! 
 
 TO JULIET. 
 
 THE VINDICATION OF SILENCE, 
 
 When heavens are bright, how stilly glide 
 
 The waters to the lulling air! 
 I feel THEE on my heart's deep tide — 
 
 How can I break the silence there ? 
 
( 292 ) 
 
 ON FOREBODINGS. 
 
 What are ye, haggard and all ghastly warnings— 
 Ye moral wraiths of the contemning soul ? 
 Ye glide away like clouds beneath our scornings, 
 But heavy, dark, and mournful, back ye roll. 
 Without a cause the heart beats high and quick, 
 And the blest breath grows labour-fraught and thick. 
 
 What are ye 1 — Phantoms of the brain ? — The crude 
 
 And half-begot chimaeras that arise 
 
 From our most earthly members, and intrude 
 
 A loathly shadow on our mental eyes ? 
 
 Wan nightmares of drows'd thought ?— the goblin banes 
 
 That steam and flit from the o'erpamper'd veins ? 
 
 What ! can these seerlike and unearthly shapes 
 
 Of Thought be fathered thus ?— And can a crumb— 
 
 An incoct atom, kindle that which apes 
 
 A demon's horror — and can strike us dumb — 
 
 Appal us to the centre of our clay — 
 
 And shake the Spirit on her throne ? — ^Away ! 
 
 What ! to these wretched wants must we fulfil 
 
 A slavery so subjected and entire. 
 
 Bearing a devil in ourselves — at will 
 
 To mock the Angel Thought that Avould aspire 
 
 Out from this nether cell ? — to laugh to scorn 
 
 The very aims for which all thought was born ? 
 
 Can we not hold ev'n this most lean and poor 
 
 Pittance of sense, but that to every heat 
 
 And frailty of the flesh, we must endure 
 
 To pare and pawn the dowry ? and complete 
 
 All degradation by the gibe and guile 
 
 Of the worm's prey, which rots the very while t 
 
ON FOREBODINGS. 293 
 
 Nay ! — ^have ye not been prophets in your strange 
 Revealings, and with no oracular* faith 
 Betokened wo or weal 1 and the last change 
 Of this our state ? as if there were in death, 
 And that which stirs within us, something more 
 Of speech and commune than our creeds explore ! 
 
 The hardest and the coldest breasts have thrilled 
 As ye have passed them on your ghostlike way ; 
 And in the hour ye whispered — have fulfilled 
 Their doom. — Upon the. dial of their clay 
 Rested the shadowy hand, — and at the chime 
 Foretold — -they had no farther note of time ! 
 
 We boast our growing wisdom ! — Know we more 
 Than he,t the source of Plato's golden stream 1 
 Have we a bolder sense — a steadier lore ? 
 Mix we with science no more shadowy dream ? — 
 Yet he, dread spectres, mocked ye not 1 but taught 
 Your credence with a bow'd and reverent thought. 
 Avaunt — avaunt — ^what ! yield we to your cold 
 And curdling grasp 1 — Ye fool us with a power 
 Which, like the Saga's muttered rhyme of old, 
 Is built not on your potence, but on our 
 Weakness. We crown you with grim thoughts, and quake 
 Before the very tyrants that we make. 
 
 Our Reason — or whate'er that be — and how 
 Begotten or inspired — ^by which we move 
 Erect upon life's narrow bridge ; and know 
 Our end — our aims — our powers — alone can prove 
 Our guide. And Faith, the barter of our will, 
 Contracting Reason is her offspring still. 
 
 And if we err, and darkling grope and vain, 
 'T is not our Reason's treachery, but our own 
 Surrender of our Reason, and the chain 
 By which we bind her to the Titan's stone. 
 
 • Oracular is here used in the sense of dubious . 
 1 Socrates. 
 
394 IF THE POOR MADE LAWS FOR THE RICH. 
 
 From ignorance spring earth's errors — raise the powers 
 Of Reason to their height — and Heaven is ©urs I 
 
 Shadows avaunt ! — were all the monsters armed 
 
 By hell or monkish madness, round the ring 
 
 In which lone Reason sits abstract and charmed ; 
 
 Yea, all pale Priestcraft from her caves could bring, 
 
 Or northern Fancy nurture ; v/ere the earth's 
 
 Soft smile to wither, and unnatural births 
 
 Creep from her hollow womb ; — ^were the sweet skies 
 
 To lose all love, and murmur from the stars — 
 
 " Tremble," — The Unkno^vn within me should defy 
 
 Terror — the arch and real fiend that wars 
 
 On God ; our God is Love ! — and greet the levin 
 
 Whose wrath but brighter shows the depths of Heaven! 
 
 IF THE POOR MADE LAWS FOR THE RICH. 
 
 If the poor made laws for the rich — ^the rich, 
 
 What a change in our jails would be ! 
 Which would be for the best ? and which — oh, which, 
 
 Brmg the most to the gallows-tree ? 
 They would pass a nobleman vagrant bill, 
 
 For the fellows who idly roaril ; 
 The Travellers' club would be sent to the Mill, 
 
 And Lord E— x be passed to — ^home. 
 
 They 'd make game laws for the sporting one, 
 
 And refuse a squire to bail ; 
 Old B ^ks would be shot with a good spring-gu 
 
 And Sh — ^y would rot in jail ! 
 " Most libellous trash," the books that blind 
 
 The eyes of the mass they 'd call ; 
 Murray's Review would be damnably fined, 
 
 And they 'd ruin great Captain H — 11. 
 They 'd make it a capital crime to pay 
 
 One's self from the public purse ; 
 Our younger sons would be shipped to " the Bay,** 
 
 And the Bishop of — — worse ! 
 
( 295 ) 
 
 TO WORDSWORTH. 
 
 How glorious and how beautiful a life 
 
 Must thine have been among the hills and streams ! 
 From the far world, and its eternal strife, 
 
 But one gray shadow cast upon thy dreams. 
 Tinging their sacred and nymph-haunted glory 
 
 With something of a mournful — ^mortal hue. 
 Ah ! if the Spirits of the olden story 
 
 Yet linger — and the Ascraean's verse* be true. 
 If Unseen Habitants, yet earth-bound, rove 
 By the still brook, or the melodious grove, 
 And ever o'er Man's state the while they wander, 
 With a high thought, but tender memory ponder :— * 
 If the pure ghosts of the Saturnian Race, 
 
 Who o'er the sinless pastures led their herds ; 
 Oh ! if they yet claim haunt and dwelling-place 
 
 Where the air gladdens with the summer-birds ; 
 Methinks to them familiar thy sublime 
 
 And' undiurnal melody which breathes 
 A pastoral sweetness from the golden time ; 
 
 And, as o'er ruin'd fanes the ivy wreathes, 
 So cling thy fancies in their green embrace 
 
 Around a dim and antique holmess ; 
 And, with a loving yet a solemn grace. 
 
 At once a freshness and an awe express ! 
 
 *' Musing on Man" amid the mountains lone, 
 
 What must have pass'd in thy unfathom'd breast ! 
 How, on the lyre within, must many a tone. 
 
 Solemn and deep, have risen — ^unconfess'd, 
 Save to thyself, and the still ear of GOD ! 
 
 And from the full and silent Heart of Things, 
 As o'er the hills thy unwatched footsteps trod, 
 
 Didst thou not draw the patriarchal springs 
 
 * Hesiod, who tells us (Opera etDies, verse 121, 'Aipr«p first tcev tovto, &c.) 
 that the mortals of the golden age became, after death, good spirits wanderiug 
 over e^rth, and regarding the acts of men. 
 
296 TO WORDSWORTH. 
 
 Of love for Man and Nature, which the hues 
 Of thy transparent verse all livingly suffuse ? 
 
 Higher thy theme than Caesar's, or the Pomp 
 
 Borne o'er the dusty earth in weary gaud ; 
 Ambition's mask, and Glory's brazen tromp, 
 
 The embattled Murder, and the ermin'd Fraud ! 
 iSweeter thy theme than aught which thro' the lays 
 
 Of the Rose Garden's sons may softly flow ! 
 And earthlier fires before the Rhean blaze 
 
 Lit on thine altar — sicken from their glow ! 
 
 Man in his simple grandeur, which can take 
 
 From Power but poor increase ; the Truth which lies 
 Upshining in " the Well of Homely Life ;" 
 
 The Winds, the Waters, and their Mysteries — 
 The Morn and moted Noon, the Stars which make 
 
 Their mirror in the heart ; the Earth all rife 
 With warnings and with wisdom ; the deep lore 
 
 Which floateth airlike over lonely places — 
 These made thy study and thy theme ; and o'er 
 
 The Beauty of thy Soul no Paphian Graces, 
 But a religious and a reverent Awe, 
 
 Breathed Sanctity and Music- — inspiration, 
 Not from the dark Obscure of priestly law, 
 
 But that which burns — the Centre of Creation-^ 
 A Love, a Mystery, and a Fear — ^the imseen 
 Source of all worship since the world hath been ! 
 
 How must thy lone and lofty soul have gone 
 
 Exulting on its way, beyond the loud 
 Self-taunting mockery of the scoffers, grown 
 
 Tethered and duU'd to Nature, in the crowd ! 
 Earth has no nobler, no more moral sight 
 
 Than a Great Poet whom the world disowns. 
 But stills not, neither angers : — from his height. 
 
 As from a star, float forth his spherelike tones ; 
 He wits not whether the vex'd herd may hear 
 The music wafted to the reverent ear ; 
 And far Man's wrath, or scorn, or heed, above, 
 Smiles down the calm disdain of his majestic love ! 
 
( 297 ) 
 TO JULIET. 
 
 A THOUGHT AT NIGHT. 
 
 In yonder taper's waning light, 
 
 An image of my heart I see ; 
 It burns amid a lonely night-— 
 
 Its life the love of thee— 
 The steadfast light its passion takes, 
 
 But slowly wastes while it illumes ; 
 And while my very life it makes, 
 
 My life itself consumes. 
 
 TO JULIET. 
 
 The summer— the summer hath come, my love, 
 
 And the ringdove found his bride — 
 Not a flower below, not a beam above. 
 
 But doth thy coyness chide. 
 I have loved thee well — I have loved thee long — 
 
 I have loved thyself alone ; 
 There lived not a thought in my burning song. 
 
 That my heart did not more than own. 
 Be mine — ^be mine while the Hours allow 
 
 My life to be vowed to Thee ? 
 For the leaves of my youth are round me now — 
 
 But the worm is in the tree. 
 And the time, sweet love, is speeding fast. 
 
 When the vow shall be ever o'er— 
 When thy faithful Fountain, dried at last, 
 
 Shall leap to the Breeze no more. 
 Be mine — be mine, ere hath pass'd away 
 
 The scent from Life's closing flowers ; 
 And sometime hence it will soothe to say— 
 
 " I blest his latest hours !" 
 
( 298 ) 
 
 LOVE'S WATCH. 
 
 TO JULIET SLEEPING. 
 
 The moonbeams thro' the lattice fall ; 
 
 They silver o'er thy blushing cheek ; 
 And still I wake to- feed on all 
 
 The love I could not speak. 
 And thou art mine — all mine at last ! 
 
 Our world can be earth's world no more, 
 A gulf between this life hath pass'd, 
 
 And that we knew before. 
 How rushed the swelling tides of thought — 
 
 All round grows hallowed ground to me ! 
 How tender silence seems ! how fraught — 
 
 The loving air— with Thee ! 
 I ever thought till now, the light 
 
 Of Heaven's sweet stars was mixed with sadness 5 
 Now they — now all — drink in my sight, 
 
 A glory and a gladness ! 
 Sweet love, I bend to kiss thy brow — 
 
 I grow enamoured of thy rest ; 
 What dreams of heaven shall haunt me, now 
 
 My pillow is thy breast ! 
 
 ON THE IMITATORS OF BYRON. 
 
 A FABLE. 
 
 A Swan hymn'd music on the Muses* waves, 
 
 And Song's sweet daughters wept within their caves ; 
 
 It chanced the Bird had something then deemed new, 
 
 Not in the music only— but the hue — 
 
 Black were his plumes ; — the Rooks that heard on high, 
 
 Came envying round, and darkened all the sky ; 
 
ON THE WANT OF SYMPATHY. 299" 
 
 Each Rook, ambitious of a like applause, 
 
 Clapped his grave wings — and Pierus rung with caws.; 
 
 What of the Swan's attraction could they lack, 
 
 Their noise as mournful, and their wings as black ? I 
 In vain we cry — ^the secret you mistook, 
 
 And grief is d- d discordant in a Rook ! 
 
 ON THE WANT OF SYMPATHY WE EXPE-' 
 RIENCE IN THE WORLD. 
 
 • ** Oh for one breast to image ours !'* 
 
 Youth in its earliest vision sighs ; 
 And age the same desire devours, 
 
 Until — the dreamer dies. 
 Vain shadows from the friend — ^the wife— 
 
 Thou seek'st, how loved soe'er thou art, 
 The brightest stream that glads thy life, 
 
 Can never glass thy heart. 
 I grant thee, home's endearing sounds, 
 
 I grant thee, love's first whispered tone ; 
 But where the breast from which rebounds 
 
 The echo to thine own ? 
 Mad are we all, — who hath not pined 
 
 For something kindred from his birth ? 
 And lost earth's solid joys to find 
 
 What is not of the earth ? 
 Ah ! could we to ourselves betroth 
 
 One breast, a very shade of ours ; 
 Would time alone not alter both 
 
 The creatures of the hours 1 
 Go back into thy lonely soul, 
 
 .And with a calm and chasten'd eye 
 Survey thy tether, and control 
 
 The dreams that seek the sky ; — 
 And for ideal shapes, would melt 
 
 All life into one vague desire ; 
 In that far air wherein thou hast dwelt, 
 
 Hope's mortal ends expire. 
 
300 THE RATS AND THE MICE* 
 
 Go— -seek for joys amid thy kind ! 
 
 How much has life itself to bless 
 The one whose wise and healthful mind 
 
 Seeks what it can possess. 
 Ourself may in ourself create 
 
 A tie beyond the dreamer's art ; 
 No bond is made that mocks at Fate, 
 
 Like Man's with his own heart. 
 
 THE RATS AND THE MICE ; 
 
 A FABLE 
 OF THE DAYS OF KING ARTHUR. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO 
 
 HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 There was a time when Rats and Mice combined 
 
 To form one state against the feline kind ; 
 
 Tho' few the Rats, and many were the Mice, 
 
 The State was governed by the Rats' advice ; 
 
 Strong were their teeth, and dangerous were their claws. 
 
 And most severe upon the Cats their laws. 
 
 Well sped our Aristocracy of Rats, 
 
 They laughed at snares, and triumphed o'er the Cats ; 
 
 They warr'd with glory, and they lived in ease, 
 
 And filled the Treasury with a world of cheese. 
 
 The stotes — the weasels with admiring gaze 
 
 Beheld, and lavished on our State their praise; 
 
 Oft would they cry — " No Commonwealth is great 
 
 " Where Rats and Freedom govern not the State I" 
 
 And for the Rats, we must in truth confess, 
 
 That vulgar Fame outstripped not their success: 
 
 Their sage control — their plump conditions speak — 
 
 Their sides how covered, and their skins how sleek ! 
 
THE RATS AND THE MICE, 301 
 
 They knew no toil — ^the Mice their burrows made, 
 For the Rat's pleasure was the Mouse's trade. 
 His moral duty was — ^the cheese to find, 
 And the Rat spared the little wretch — ^the rind ; 
 But if the Mouse should chance, unhid, to sup— 
 They called a jury, and they ate him up. 
 
 So far — so good—the Mice, an humble race, 
 Worked on, and owned the justice of the case. 
 Inured to toil they only asked to earn 
 Plain food and holes to live in — in return ! 
 By slow degrees, howe'er, and times of peace, 
 Both Rats and Mice too numerously increase ; 
 The general commerce not increasing too. 
 The Mice seem hungry, and the Rats look blue: 
 The Mice in truth grew lamentably thinner. 
 And Rats — poor creatures — ^miss'd their cream at 
 dinner. 
 
 Persius hath told us how the dullest brute 
 
 Is made by hunger, knowing and acute. 
 
 And a pinched stomach best — ^we must admit-— 
 
 Gives voice to parrots, and to lawyers wit : 
 
 Ev'n thus our Mice grew reasoners with their state, 
 
 And want of dining brought about debate. 
 
 " We found the cheeses which our Rulers carve, 
 
 " We filled the state with plenty — yet we starve ! 
 
 "Why this?" 
 
 " Hush, babbler !" quoth an ancient Mouse, 
 " The Rats are sitting, let us ask the House." 
 They reached the Senate, where the Rats were met. 
 To see what cheeses should be soonest eat ; 
 The tempting pEes the lesser vermin saw, 
 And their mouths watering washed away their awe. 
 " Behold !" they cried, " how fleshless we have grown^ 
 "And be that cheese — ^that Gloucester cheese — our 
 
 own !" 
 " Base Levellers !" cried a Rat ; " ungratefiil ones, 
 ** That cheese is destined for our younger sons." 
 
302 THE RATS AND THE MICE. 
 
 " Forgive our prayer !" the Mice, appall'd, replied ; 
 
 " And grant ^that Stilton on the other side." 
 
 " Blaspheming Reprobates ! that cheese is theirs 
 
 " Who serve the Great Rat with their weekly prayers." 
 
 The Mice were shocked — "That Cheshire, noble 
 
 Rats," — 
 "We keep in case of danger from the Cats." 
 " Enough !" the Mice replied, with fainting voice ; 
 " Give what you please, we leave to you the choice." 
 " To us — ^'t is right — 't is wise" — the Rats return ; 
 " Our love for Mice you have not now to learn ! 
 " We have done all we could the times to meet, 
 " We 've taken off the duty upon meat. 
 " We 've lowered the price of butter long ago, 
 " And cream is now scarce taxed at all — ^you know« 
 " Three Rats too highly paid we did discard 
 " Last week ; we 've just reduced the daily guard ! 
 " In short, we have done all within the law 
 " To meet your wishes ; — Gentlemen, withdraw." 
 " Sir Rats !" replied a Mouse, " though this be true, 
 " Alas ! with meat we Mice have naught to do. 
 " Or taxed or free, to us a baseless dream 
 " The hope of butter, or the thought of cream ; 
 " As for the rest, you must, I thiok, perceiver 
 " You do your Lordships — ^not poor Mice — relieve !" 
 The Rats waxed wondrous wrath at this reply, 
 And some suggested that the Mice should die ; 
 But on one hand — the creatures, though so small, 
 Were strong in numbers nor would tamely fall. 
 And on the other — ^when in due control, 
 The plagues were vastly useftil on the whole. 
 'T was not the case where force is wisely shown, 
 We can't in all times give for bread a stone. 
 The Rats most sagely therefore checked their ire, 
 And answered, " Well ! what is it you desire ? 
 " We 've done our best — ^nor can contend with Fate, 
 " And all this cheese is wanted for the state ; 
 "You would not steal it!" — " Steal it, sirs !" repli(t: 
 The ' little Hampden' on the starving side. 
 
THE RATS AND THE MICE. 303 
 
 " Steal it !— -Alas ! it is not ive who steal 
 
 " From the fat larders of the Public weal ; 
 
 " But just to quite convmce us nothing there— 
 
 " To our distress — the public wants may spare ; 
 
 " Grant us the right these stores that we collect — > 
 
 " Nay — not to eat — ^but, like yourselves — inspect, 
 
 " Oh ! could we send our delegates, no doubt 
 
 " Some crumb of comfort they would ferret out ; 
 
 " For Rats, I fear — ^how kind soe'er this House, 
 
 " Take views for Mice quite different from a Mouse !" 
 
 On this a Rat in many a war well known, 
 
 Bold — wary — sage — and hoary in renown ; — 
 
 More versed indeed, 'twas sometimes said politely, 
 
 To beard a Cat than carve a Stilton rightly ; 
 
 Better in Camps than Council — ^but of late 
 
 Raised to control, and not defend, the State — 
 
 With all the Patriot sparkling in his eyes, , 
 
 Starts up and thus indignantly replies : — 
 
 " O idle theorists or rebellious rogues ! 
 
 *' Dupes — dreamers — -drivellers— dunces — dema- Hlk 
 
 gogues — 
 " Think you the Rats to humbug, and enlist 'em 
 " Against the glories of the present system. 
 " What raised this happy nation to its height 1 
 " What brought such phalanxed heroes to the fight ? 
 " What — when our valour won returning ease — 
 "Heaped all our treasuries with such loads of cheese? 
 " What made us grow so famous and so fat 1 
 *' What fired the nations with the name of Rat ? 
 " What favoured virtue ? — What subjected vice ? 
 " What — ^but our mode of representing Mice ? 
 " Never, in all my studies through the page 
 " Which lights the present, by a former age, 
 " Seemed any Rats thus lucky in inventing 
 " The noble system of Mouse-representing." 
 
 He ceased — and warming with the glorious theme, 
 Cooled his gray whiskers in a bowl of cream. 
 
304 TO INA. 
 
 Amid the " hears" of the applauding House, 
 Replied the weak voice of our hungry Mouse : 
 " Your reasoning may for Rats indeed suffice ; 
 ** But, great sir ! you quite forget the Mice !" 
 
 TO INA. 
 
 Our hour is past — and I must bear 
 The fate thou canst not soothe — alone : 
 
 And woo whatever steps may wear 
 The green moss from the stone ; 
 
 For whose the thoughts that round me twine 
 
 One soft — one fresh remembrance ? — ^thine !— 
 
 But tell me not in crowds to prove 
 
 How vain is all that Pride would claim ; 
 
 The charm of life that 's lost in Love 
 Is never found in Fame ; 
 
 When once the film is from the eyes, 
 
 Truth leaves the fancy naught to prize ! 
 
 Yet fain my heart would seek to show 
 
 It was not all unworthy thine. 
 And fame were sweet if thou couldst know 
 
 Thy memory made it mine. 
 Thy memory ! — can I think that word, 
 While life is thine, from me is hearjj ? 
 
 And yet it soothes — smce thou didst form 
 
 Thy nest upon so rude a tree. 
 It soothes me, henceforth, that the storm 
 
 Can only fall on me ! 
 With thee life's very verdure past— 
 To withered stems what boots the blast ! 
 
 Away the lyre — ^it hath no strain 
 
 In which a love like ours should speak ; 
 
TO INA IN ABSENCE. 30© 
 
 But we may never meet again, 
 
 For hearts — ^like ties — will break ;— 
 And I would fain that thou shouldst see 
 That mine — ^till broken— is with thee ! 
 
 TO INA IN ABSENCE. 
 
 (four years after the last.) 
 
 Thou only hast been more to me 
 
 Than aught my prophet dreams foretold ; 
 The wildest thoughts when turned to thee, 
 
 My memory mocks as cold. 
 In earlier loves, my strain would tell 
 
 Of burning hopes and wasting sighs ; 
 But when I think of thee, I feel 
 
 The tears are in my eyes. 
 'T is strangely sweet on thee to muse ; 
 
 A sweet, yet scarce a glad emotion ; 
 For naught the rising heart subdues 
 
 Like Love's recalled devotion. 
 In silent depth the thoughts that form 
 
 Their tides above thine image swell ; 
 And thou protect'st them from the storm, 
 
 Sweet Spirit of the Well ! 
 Thou tell'st me thou canst scarce believe 
 
 My heart the record of my vow ; 
 Thou'dst think no more it could deceive, 
 
 Didst thou behold it now ! 
 Thou tell'st me thou vsdlt scarcely deem 
 
 Thy thought can reach me from afar ; 
 What ! doubt the light upon the stream, 
 
 Go — doubt thyself, my star ! 
 Yet is there that — and right thou art — 
 
 Whose warmth, whose brightness can reprove, 
 And shame the love within my heart, 
 
 —It is the heart I love ! 
 
( 306 ) 
 ORAMA, 
 
 OR THE SOUL AND ITS FUTURE. 
 
 Thin, shadowy, scarce divided from the light, 
 
 I saw a Phantom at the birth of morn ; 
 Its robe was sable, but a fleecy white 
 
 Flowed silvery o'er the garb of gloom : a horn 
 It held within its hand ; — no human breath 
 Stirred its wan lips ; — ^-deathlike, it seemed not death ! 
 
 My heart lay numb within me — and the glow 
 Of the glad life waxed faint, and icelike crept ; 
 
 The pulses of my being seemed to grow 
 One awe ! — voice fled the body as it slept, 
 
 But from its startled depths, th' o'erlaboured Soul 
 Spake, kinglike, out — " What art Thou that wouldst 
 seem 
 
 "To have o'er Immortality control]" 
 And the shape answered — not hy sound — " a dream ! 
 " A Dream — ^but not a Dream ! the shade of things 
 
 " To come ; a Spirit from the thrones of Fate, 
 " I ruled the hearts of Earth's primeval Kings ; 
 
 " I gave their life its impulse and its date ; 
 " Gray Wisdom paled before me ; and the Stars 
 
 " Were made my weird Interpreters — ^my hand 
 " Aroused the whirlwind of the destined wars, 
 
 " And bowed the Nations to my dim command I 
 " A Dream, but not a Dream — a type, a sign 
 
 " Of the vast future do I come to thee ! 
 " And where I come, I am the future ! — ^TThine, 
 
 " Behold, and tremble to behold, in me. 
 " What, thou wouldst rise ? — ^the lesser flights of Fame 
 
 " Content thee not — thy heart'hath grown a fire, 
 " And the arch priest Ambition feeds the flame 
 
 "With * the prophetic laurel'* of desire. 
 
ORAMA. 307 
 
 "And in the Air, and on the voiceless Earth, 
 
 " Thou seek'st an omen, and believ'st a hope ; 
 "And thy chained spirit from the bonds of Birth 
 
 " Looks to the mighty Heaven — -and pines for scope ! 
 " Hark, hark — I tell thee that the unsheathed blade 
 
 " Shall break — if strife redeem it from its rust ; 
 " Hark, hark !— I tell thee that the wreath is laid 
 
 " Upon the bier !— now grasp it- — and be dust 1" 
 Methought my soul did answer ' Come the strife — 
 * The bier ! — Life's ends have nobler things than life 1' 
 Then the Dream made reply, and shadowed forth 
 
 Th' mishaped Events Time embryoed — and foretold 
 That which in part hath chanced — the little worth 
 I Of all the treasures I had heaped of old ; 
 My hopes, loves, ties, aspirings — and that fond 
 And secret gem — ^I thought — ay» Fate beyond ! 
 Wisely and solemnly it preached to me," 
 
 And bade me love, and live, and laugh my hour ; 
 " Life is," it said, " the true Hymettus Bee, 
 
 " And culls its honey from the hitterest flower." 
 And the Shape left me, and I woke — the day 
 Came through the lattice chillingly and gray ; 
 And on my breast slept one, who — =as the doom 
 
 Of the dark Dream foretold — is palaced now 
 Mid the dread Cities of the crovmed Tomb. 
 
 She did not mark the terror on my brow ; 
 She did not count the beatings of my heart ; 
 
 And yet she clasped me : and her fond lips stirr'd, 
 And breathed sweet sounds, I taught her by Love's art, 
 
 Out of Love's language — some new fairy word 
 Sacred to us — and by the world unheard. 
 But from that hour, a mystery and a change 
 
 Came o'er my nature ; and my fate I felt, 
 And armed my heart, but never could estrange^ 
 
 That Vision from my memory ; there it dwelt, 
 And dwelleth — and shall dwell — ^until the last 
 Of the ghast riddles shall be solved and past ! 
 So walk I, on the threshold of layf doom ; 
 And with a steady gaze behold afar 
 
368 ORAMA. 
 
 A dim light on my future and my tomb, 
 Tracking the girdling shadows by one star. 
 
 Bo learn I to forget the thoughts of yore, 
 To rise from out the lesser aims once prized, 
 
 To hold Neglect, Wrath, Hatred, and the sore 
 Ills of the petty Present, all despised — 
 
 To ask from man no succour and no friend. 
 
 And look through all things to one solenm end ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 STORIES OF WATERLOO, and oth^ Tales. In 
 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 These are two volumes of beautiful Wes, written in language the most elegant, with naarratives 
 of extreme interest, yet^simple and natural. 
 
 PEACE CAMPAIGNS OF A CORNET. A NoveL 
 In 2 vols. I2mo. 
 
 «' It is full of stories, and told in exactly that manner which will render it highly popular. Itj 
 adventures of humour and fun-its anecdotes-its practi»l jokes-and its Perso^ ?)"T*/!;f„ 
 caricatures are very amusing, and furnish matter for much pleasant reading, "-ion.. WeeUy Bmiew. 
 
 ST. VALENTINE'S DAY; or, THE FAIR MAID 
 OF PERTH. Being Second Series of " Chronicles of 
 Canongate." By the Author of Waverley. 2 vols. 1 3mo» 
 
 ALMACK'S REVISITED ; or, HERBERT MILTON. 
 A Novel. In 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 APICIAN MORSELS. A Comical Work. W5th 
 Cuts. 12mo. 
 
Works Recently Published. 
 
 SKETCHES of the LIVES of the SIGNERS of the 
 DECLARATION of INDEPENDENCE. 12mo. By 
 N. D WIGHT. [Stereotyped.] 
 
 THE NORTHERN TRAVELLER, combined with 
 the Northern Tour. Embellished with numerous Cop- 
 perplate Engravings, 18mo. 
 
 GIBSON'S SURVEYING. Improved and enlarged. 
 By James Ryan. 8vo. 
 
 This is now the only edition of Gibson's Surveying published in the United States, and is accom* 
 panied with all the necessary Tables and Engravings, and sold at a very reduced pnce. 
 
 BROWN'S DICTIONARY OF THE HOLY BIBLE. 
 
 From the last genuine Edinburgh edition. 8vo. 
 
 This edition contains the Author's last additions and corrections, and farther enlarged and cor 
 reeled by his Sons ; with a Life of the Author ; and an Essay on the Evidence of Christianity. 
 
 A CONCORDANCE to the HOLY SCRIPTURES 
 of the OLD and NEW TESTAMENTS; by the Rev. 
 John Brown, of Haddington. Printed on Diamond type, 
 in the 32mo. form. [Stereotyped.] 
 
 This convenient and beautiful little pocket, volume contains, verbatim, the 'tame as the 
 original duodecimo edition. 
 
 SERMONS ON IMPORTANT SUBJECTS, by the 
 late Rev. and pious Samuel Davies, A.M., some time 
 President of the College of New-Jersey. In 3 vols. Svo. 
 
 To th's edition are prefixed, Memoirs and Character of the Author ; and two Sermons on occasion 
 of his Death, by the Rev. Drs. Gibbon and Einley, and Qpntains all the Author's Sermolu ever 
 published. 
 
 VAN HALEN'S NARRATIVE of his Imprisonment 
 in the Dungeons of the Inquisition, his Escape, his Jour- 
 ney to Madrid, &c. &c. Svo. 
 
 TALES OF A GRANDFATHER. By Walter Scott, 
 Bart. First, Second, and Third Series. 
 
 LIFE AND REMAINS OF DR. EDWARD DANIEL 
 CLARKE. Svo. 
 
 THE CONDITION OF GREECE. By J. P. Miller. 
 12mo. With a Map. 
 
 THE RIVALS OF ESTE,and OTHER POEMS. By 
 James G. Brooks and Mary E. Brooks. 12mo. 
 
 " The lovers of impassioned and classical numbers may promise themselves much gratificatiok 
 ftom the mase of Brooks, while the many-stringed harp of his lady, the Noma of the Couriexy 
 harp, wbidi none but the can iweep, has a chord for every heart."— iv; Y. MefcaniOe Mv. 
 
Works Recently Publuhed. 
 
 HOOPER'S MEDICAL DICTIONARY. From the 
 
 last London Edition. With Additions, by Samuel Akerly, 
 M.D. 8vo. [Stereotyped.] 
 
 In order to render this stereotype edition of Hooper's Medical Dictionary more acceptable to the 
 medical public of the United States, considerable additions have been madej particularly oa 
 Materia Medica, Mineralogy, Botany, Chemistry, Biography, &c. &c. 
 
 THE BOOK OF NATURE ; being a popular Illus- 
 tration of the general Laws and Phenomena of Creation, 
 &e. By John Mason Good, M.D. and F.R.S. 8vo. 
 [Stereotyped.] 
 
 " — The work is certainly the best philosophical digest of the kind which we have seen." 
 
 London Monthly Revteie. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF MODERN EUROPE, from the 
 rise of the Modern King-doms to the present period. By 
 William Russell, LL.D., and William Jones, Esq. With 
 Annotations by an American. In 3 vols. 8vo. [Stereo- 
 typed — nearly ready.] 
 
 Tliis History of Modern Europe being universally considered a very vahi-ahle as well as a very 
 inten'Ming work, the publishers have stereotyped it unifonn with the historical works of Robertsoa 
 and Gibbon. — It will be comprised in three octavo volumes, embellished with copperplate en- 
 gravings, and execute4, in such a. manner as to render it worthy the patronage of the American 
 public. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE JEWS : (Nos. I. II. and 
 III. of Harper's Family Library.) By the Rev. H. H. 
 Milman. In 3 volumes, ISmo. Illustrated with original 
 Maps and Woodcuts. [Stereotyped.] 
 
 " The Editors have been most fortunate in engaging on this work the pen of a scholar, both 
 cUissica! and scriptural, and so elegant and powerful a writer, as the Poetry Professor. Few theo- 
 logical works of this order have appeared either in ours or in any other language. To the Christian 
 reader of everj- age and sex — and we may add of every se<;t — it will be a source of the purest 
 delight, instruction, and comfort ; and of the infidels wlio open it merely that they may not remain 
 in ignorance of a work placed by general consent in the rank of an English classic, is there not 
 every reason to hope that many will lay it down in a far different mood P'—Mackwood's'Magazine^ 
 
 THE HISTORY OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE : 
 (Nos. IV. and V. of Harper's Family Library.) By J. G. 
 LocKHART, Esq. In 2 vols. 18mo. With several Cop- 
 perplate Engravings. [Stereotyped.] 
 
 " It is, unquestionably, in a brief and tangible form, the niost popular history of Napoleon that has 
 yet been produced." — Atlas. 
 
 THE LIFE OF NELSON : (No. VI. of Harper's 
 Family Library.) By Robert Southey, Esq. In 1 vol. 
 18mo. With a Portrait. [Stereotyped.] 
 
 " We are -oleased to find 'that each" succeeding number of the Family Library Is worthy of the 
 promise hel3 out by the first numbers, and the literary talents which they display. The present 
 IS among the most interesting of those that have yet appeared." — Courier. 
 
 THE LIFE OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT: (No. 
 VII. of Harper's Family Library.) By Rev. J. Williams. 
 In 1 vol. 18mo. With a Map. [Stereotyped.] 
 
 " Judging by the present specimen, th»! family Library must become a favourite io all classea, 
 »nd beBefit society in general."— ii. Jaurnal. 
 
Works Recently PuBhshea, 
 
 STORIES OF A BRIDE. By the Author of «The 
 Mummy." In 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 " We like these volumes exceedingly ; the narratives are very interesting ; fhe stylp is as 
 graceful as it is spirituel; and the frame-work both novel and picturesque.^ The young heiress is 
 
 excellently drawn, and her falling in love is well managed This is a very original, aa 
 
 well as amusing work, and one which we think will be universally liked for its piquancy and am« 
 ligation." — LoruUm Literary Gazette. 
 
 *' These are aoinuted and very amusing Stories."— Cour< Journal. 
 
 RYBRENT DE CRUGE. A Novel. In 2 vols, 
 12mo. 
 
 " This Novel is one of the most intelligent and interesting that the season has produced.*-* 
 Court Journal, 
 " This is a very clever Novel.— The Author is one fi-om whom we enpect much entertainment.* 
 Literary Gazette. 
 
 PRIVATE LIFE. A Novel. In 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 " Admirable volumes, with all possible claim to attention .... It is a work of whose talent aBd 
 utility its author may be justly proud." — London Literary Gazette, 
 
 THE LAST OF THE PLANTAGENETS. An 
 
 Historical Romance. In 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 "These volumes contain one of fhe most faithful and delicate narratives that the vrhole library 
 of English Romance can furnish. The plaintiveness, purity, and simplicity of the diction, and the 
 monastic quietness, the unaffected tenderness, and the repose of the incidents, must render tbia 
 work a permanent favourite with all readers of taste and feeling." — ,Ulaa, . 
 
 " The. Lott of the Plantagenetf is written by one evidently master of his'aubject, who must havo 
 turned ever many a ponderous volume for the sake of the lighter, but much more valuable ODSB 
 before us." — Lit. Gazette. 
 
 STRATTON HILL. A Tale of the Civil Wars. lia 
 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 " There is a considerable share of talent displayed in fiiese volumes, and they also bear evidence 
 of some research and industry. The scenes which the author has chosen for the location of his 
 characters and incidents, ai'e new, and as yet untouched." — Jfew-Forh Mirror. 
 
 " Very elegantly written — fortunate too, in having its author's haunted ground, Cornwall, an. 
 
 trodden — ^blending historical information with antiquarian exactness — treating of a most exciting 
 period— we cannot but highly commend Stratton Hill. "— ioTwton Literary Gazette. 
 
 THE SCHOOL OF FASHION. A ^Novel. In 2 
 vols. 12mo. 
 
 " This production bears evidence of being written by a person well acquainted with the upper 
 circles of Ufe— is spirited, and an agreeable production for the lovers of romance j — it coutaiois 
 many hints that ought not to be thrown away."-T-Ztifi'on/ Gazette. 
 
 " This novel originated in a conversation at one of the late soirees at Devonshire House, ix 
 which one of the parties (a Countess) happening to say that in all the fashionable novels ertaot 
 the main features of high life had not been fully developed, was challenged to write 3 atort 
 herself; The fair lady undertook the task accordingly, and we are pleased in being abla if say, 
 that in its performance, she has succeeded to admiration." — Times. 
 
 TALES OF MILITARY LIFE. In 2 vols. 12raa. 
 By the Author of " The Military Sketch Book." 
 
 " The pr-ncipal scene of this very striking narration is in Ireland, and the incidents are connerit' 
 ed with those stirring times in which the celebrated Emmet bore so conspicuous a part. The 
 mysteries — the riots — the strange history of the hero, and the extraordinary nature of the charac- 
 ters, irresistibly fix the attention of the reader; and while the military portion of the incidents b 
 < rendered promment, the political and romantic features asust in the general attraction and effect .'^ 
 
 Xfete Monthty Miioaint. 
 
 THE DOOM OF DEVORGOIL, and AUCHIN- 
 DRANE, By Walter Scott, Bart. 12mo. 
 
Works Recently Puonshea. 
 
 NARRATIVE OF DISCOVERY AND ADVENTURE 
 IN AFRICA, from the earliest ages to the present time. 
 With Illustrations of the Geology, Mineralogy, and Zoo- 
 logy. By Professor Jameson, James Wilson, and Hugh 
 MiffRRAY, Esq. With a Map, and Wood Engravings. (No. 
 XVI. of the Family Library.) 
 
 " It will be generally admitted, that the best foundation of useful knowledge 
 is laid in an extensive acquaintance with the realities of nature and of human 
 life. The representations of the aspects of nature, the vicissitudes of human 
 life, and the varied features of human character, convey not instruction merely, 
 but also afford an exhaustless store of solid and rational entertainment." 
 
 THE HISTORY OF CHIVALRY. By G. P. R. James, 
 Esq., Author of " De L'Orme," " Darnley," « Richelieu," 
 4&C. &c. 18mo. (No. XVII. of the Family Library.) 
 
 Those who have read Mr. James's popular works entitled " Richelieu,'* 
 *' Darnley," and " De L'Orme," will require no opinion on the merits of the 
 present work. The author says, in his Preface, " I wished to write upon Chi- 
 valry and the Crusades, because I fancied that in the hypotheses of many other 
 authors I had discovered various errors and misstatements, which gave a false 
 impression of both the institution and the enterprise ; and I have endeavoured, 
 m putting forth my own view of the subject, to advance no one point, however 
 minute, which cannot be justified by indisputable authority " 
 
 LIVES OF EMINENT PAINTERS, SCULPTORS, 
 AND ARCHITECTS. By Allan Cunningham. 18mo. 
 (Family Library.) 
 
 " A work of sterling value to all lovers of the arts." — Carlisle Journal. - 
 " This is a book which must be popular." — Edinburgh Saturday Post. 
 "We must recommend the reader to peruse the work, in which he will find 
 much to amuse, and much to inspire him with the love of the fine arts." 
 
 Sheffield Mercury. 
 
 THE PLAYS OF PHILIP MASSINGER. Illustrated 
 with Explanatory Notes ; and adapted to the use of Fami- 
 lies and Young Persons, by the omission of exceptionable 
 passages. 18mo. (Family Library— Dramatic Series.) 
 
 " The early British Drama forms so important a portion of our literature, 
 that a ' Family Library^ would be incomplete without it. A fonnidable obstacle 
 to the publication of our early plays, however, consists in the occasional impu- 
 rity of their dialogue. The editors of the Family Library have, therefore, judi- 
 ciously determined on publishing a selection of old Plays, omitting all such 
 passages as are inconsistent with modern delicacy. The task of separation re» 
 quires great skill and discretion, but these qualities we have no apprehension 
 of not finding, in the fullest degree requisite, in the editors, who, by this purify- 
 ing process, will perform a service both to the public and to the authors, whom 
 they will thereby draw forth from unmerited obscurity,"— J.«aftc Journal. 
 
 FRANCE IN 1829-30. By Lady Morgan. 2vols.l2mo. 
 
 « It is a delightful work, gay, sparkling, piquant, and metaphysical."— S««.| 
 *« Lady Morgan's light and graceful pen touches everything, exhausts nothing ; 
 
 she gives us peeps into life which none but an acute and an observant wonai^ 
 
 ipuid furnish."— Scofsman. 
 
Works Recently Published. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE JEWS: (Nos. I. II. & III. 
 
 of the Family Library.) By the Rev. H. H, Milman. In 
 3 volumes, 18mo. Illustrated with original Maps and 
 Woodcuts. 
 
 « The Editors have been most fortunate in engafisg on this work the pen of a scholar, toth 
 classical aud scriptuial, and so elegant and powerful a %\Titer, as the Poetry Professor. Few theolo- 
 gical woiki of this order have appeared either in ours or in any other larsguage. To the Christian 
 reader of every age and sex — and vfe may add of every aect — H will be a source of the purest de- 
 light, instruclioK, and comtort : and of the infidtls who open it merely *r>%X they may not remain 
 in ignorance of a worli place/I by general consent in the rank of an English classic, is tliere not 
 everj reason to hope that many will lay it down in a far difierent mood ?" 
 
 Blackwoodf's Magazine.. 
 
 " Though the subject is trite, the manner of treating it is such as to command our deepest atten 
 Hon. While the work has trath and simplicity rnough to fascinate a child, it is written with 
 a masterliness of the subject and an elegance of composition that will please the most refined aii^ 
 fastidious reader."— £dnii. Saturday's Post. 
 
 " It cannot help being one of the most deeply interesting works of the day; it is invaluable (o 
 the Christian scholar."— £t>ni. Journal. 
 
 « The most popular history of the sons of Israel that has hitherto been published. The highest 
 enconium we can pass upon the work under notice is to urge its purcLase, from a conviction of its 
 striking and permanent v-corth," — Berkshire Chronicle. 
 
 " ITie woik is axlmirably adapted for the instraction of youth."— SAfi^W Courant. 
 
 "We are acquainted with no work which we can more heartily recommend to our readers* 
 to the younger part of them especially, we are sure it will prove a most acceptable present." 
 
 Literary Gazette, 
 
 " TJ« narrative of the various and highly interesting evenia in that period flows on in a. chaste 
 style ; and a thorough knowledge of his subject is eviden* in every page. The work is spirited 
 well ajranged, and full of information, and of a wise and well cultivated religious spirit." 
 
 Athenseum. 
 
 " It is not too much to say, that to the Christian reader, of every age and sex, it will be a sotirce 
 of the purest delight, instruction, and comfort."— CorA SoufJwm Reporter. 
 
 " It is one of those rare publications which unite all the attraction of novelty, and all the beauties 
 of finished and spirited composition.— We cannot close without strongly recommending the Hi»' 
 tory of the Jews as a work squally enter*aining to age and instructive to youth, alike acceptaUo 
 *o the ignorant, and to be perused with pleasure by the learned."— T^ne AfercM)^, 
 
 THE EXCLUSIVES. A Novel. In 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 " ' The Exc'usives- will excite more attention than any work of a similar class has done since 
 • Tremaine.' It will do this for several reasons ; partly from its name— still more from the 
 curiosity which has been raised respecting the alleged eniinent station of its writer — but most of 
 all from its intrinsic qualities and characteristics. - The Exciusives' is emphatically, and ' exclu- 
 sively,' a picture of fashionable life in the present day. It is written with great general ability — 
 with a fine sense of the inixeJ motives of human action, so far as its observations extend — with a 
 sufficient 'nsight isto the leading and permanent passions and affecuons of the heart — with a per- 
 fect knowledge of the society in which all its scenes ?«-e pLiced— and finally, with an air of snpo- 
 riority over zSl the matters which compose those scenes, and the persons who frequent them." 
 
 Court JournaL 
 
 THE RIVALS. A Novel. By the Author of « The 
 Collegians,^'* &c. In 2 volumes, 12mo. 
 
 " For touches of genaine pathos, simplicity, and most h'ghly-wrought interest, we make (Jbo*- 
 ti-in if anything of the 'kind ever took precedency of the Stories of this writer ; and their effect 
 must be to raise their young author high in the rank of illustrious names, now securely established 
 in the records of literature, and highest of all in the annals of precocious genius." 
 
 " We cannot help saying, that we consider these Tales as among the most deeply interesting of 
 contemporary romances." 
 
 " Thev plape their author on a level with the most spirited painter of national maanen in our 
 IaDguage."-^Ku{e Literary Gazette, Times, Jtlas, Traveller, &c. &C. 
 
 LAWRIE TODD; or, The Settlers in the Woods. 
 By John Gait, Esq. Author of" The Annals of the Parish," 
 " The Ayrshire Legatees," &c. In 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 " To the numerous admirers of Mr. Gait's previous works, we can confidently say, his yoBBgeit 
 child is likelT to dore'tfae general fate of the youngest— that of being a favourite."— Xt(. OoKitU, 
 
Works Recently Published. 
 
 GOOD'S (Dr. John Mason) STUDY OF MEDICINE. 
 
 In. 5 V0I3. 8vo. A new edition. With additions by 
 Samuel Cooper, M.D. 
 
 "Dr. Good's extensive reading and retentive memory enable him to enliven the most common 
 elemenfciry details, by Interweaving curious, uncommon, or illustrative examples in almost every 
 page. — We have no hesitation in pronouncing the work, beyond all comparison, the best of the 
 kind m the English language. , Wah tl\e naval, the military, the provincial, and the colonial 
 practitioner, the vi^ork before us ought at once to supersede the unscientific compilation of Dr. 
 Thomas— and it will do so."— Medico-Chirurg. Review. 
 
 THE WORKS of tlie Rev. JOHN WESLEY, A.M. 
 With his LIFE. Complete in 10 vols. 8vo. From the 
 last London Edition. With a Portrait. 
 
 These Works should form a part of every Christian's library ; and to the Methodist they are in- 
 dispensable. The Sermons are comprised in three volumes— the Miscellaneous Works also in 
 th»ee volumes— and the Journal in four volumes. Each Work may be obtained separately. 
 
 PRESENT STATE OF CHRISTIANITY, and of 
 
 the Missionary Establishments for its Propagation, in all 
 Parts of the World. Edited by Frederic Schoberl. 12mo. 
 
 Schoberl's work on the "Present State of Christianity" is highly spoken of, and contains a com- 
 pt.ldium of Missionary exertions from the earliest ages ol Christianity to the present times. It is 
 a work which may be consulted with advantage by all denominations j as it is written with a 
 truly Christian spirit, and gives due credit to every sect for their exertions and labours. The work 
 is concise, giving a summary, or the result, of Missionary labours in all parts of the world, and con- 
 tains the multam in parvo. 
 
 LETTERS FROM THE iEGEAN. By James Emer- 
 son, Esq. In 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 " The work of Mr. Emerson is replete with amusement from first lo last ; it contains much 
 valuable historic and political information ; but is principally deserving of praise for the accuracy 
 of its remarks on human life, and the thousand interesting narratives by which these are illustrated." 
 
 New-York Critic, 
 
 THE LITERARY REMAINS OF THE LATE 
 HENRY NEELE, Author of the « Romance of His- 
 tory," &c. &c. — consisting of Lectures on English Po- 
 etry, Tales, and other Miscellaneous Pieces m Prose and 
 Vesse. 8vo. 
 
 " The work is one well calculated to repay an attentive perusal, and cannot but prove highly 
 ffitertaining to every reader." — New-York Critic 
 
 RELIGIOUS DISCOURSES. By a LAYMAN. Se- 
 
 eond Edition. 18mo. 
 
 " These Sermons are remarkable, as a literary curiosity. The work will be read with avidity 
 for thousands are doubtless anxious to be informed of Sir Walter's opinions in matters of reli 
 giOB.'"—New Monthly Magazine, 
 
 ELEMENTS OF SURVEYING, With Copperplate 
 .Engravings. By Charles Da vies, Professor.of Mathe- 
 matics, U. S. Military Academy. 8vo. 
 
 ACTABLE OF LOGARITHMS, of Logarithmic Sines, 
 and a Traverse Table. 12mo. 
 
 These Tables being stereotyped, no pains or expense have been spared to render them perfeoUj 
 oomct 
 
Works Recently Published. 
 
 THE REMINISCENCES OF THOMAS DIBDIN. 
 Author of the " Cabinet," &c. &c. 2 vols, in 1, 8vo. 
 
 * Dibdin** Setniniscences wfllbe found to contain a lai^r portion of curious history relating to 
 the intrigues and cabals connected with the internal management of our natiora,! theatres than any 
 other worli extant. The letters written to Mr. Dibdin by Mr. Sheridan, George Colman, Henry 
 Harris, Thomas Harris, Mr. Whitbread, Douglas Kinnaird, Peter Moore, Mr. Arnold, and Mr. EUi- 
 Bton now published, for the first time, exhibit Secrets of the Green-Soom, highly amusing to the 
 public, and ^articuarly gratifying to the lovers of the Drama."— Aformng Chrotiide. 
 
 WALTER COLYTON. A Tale. In 2 vols. 12mo. 
 By the Author of " Brambletye House," " Zillah," &c. &c. 
 
 " The author has great power, very great power ; and while reading him, we feel that we have 
 a. master to deal with ; and if he do not reach,th8 grandeur to which the author of Waverley 
 occasionally rises, his course is more regular, his vigour better sustained, and a more steady interest 
 is k^t up throughout— fdtnZfurg-A Magazine, 
 
 THE NEW FOREST. A Novel. In 2 vols. 12mo. 
 By the author of " Brambletye House," " Zillah," &c. &c. 
 
 *' To say that this novel is by the author of * Brambletye House,' implies that it is lively, graphic^ 
 and forcible J and such must be the general impression of ' The New Forest,' " — Court JoumaU 
 
 THE COLLEGIANS. A Novel. In 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 " The stem imbecility of the heart-broken gentleman may be compared in effect and in touch 
 ing beauty, to that most beautiful and impassioned scene in the ' Antiquary,' the Fisherman's 
 lamentation over his son. Can praise go higher ?" — Spectator. 
 
 THE RIVALS. A Novel. By the Author of « The 
 CollegianSf''^ &c. In 2 volumes, 12mo. 
 
 " For touches of genuine pathos, simplicity, and most highly-wrought interest "ve make que* 
 lion if any thing of the kind ever took precedency of the Stories of this %vTite) j and their effed 
 must be te raise their young author high in the rank of illustrious names, now securely established 
 in the records of literature, and highest of all in the annals of precocious genius." — Examiner. 
 
 HUNGARIAN TALES. In 2 vols. 12mo. By the 
 Author of "The Lettre de Cachet," and "Romances 
 of Real Life." 
 
 " ^^Vritten with great vigour and purity of style, highly interesting in the developement of 
 
 the stories, and abounding with fine ana graphic descriptions of character, as well as of extemaJ 
 objects."— i\reio-Forfe Mirror. 
 
 ROMANCES OF REAL LIFE. In 2 vols. 12mo. By 
 the Author of " Hmigarian Tales." 
 
 " For a light, free, flowing, and truly feminine style, we know not where to look for Mr» 
 Charles Gore's equal among living female writers, or her superior amoHg dead ones. She 
 is a charming Writer, and one who will not eaaly find a rival, except in— herself. In other words, 
 she, and she only, is the writer who can make us forget the pleasure which we have received f roiB 
 these ' Romances of Real Life.' "—Court JounuU. 
 
 COMING OUT ; and THE FIELD OF THE FORTY 
 FOOTSTEPS. Novels. By Misses Jane and Anna 
 Maria Porter. In 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 " These works are a prond testimony, not only to the sisterly love of these ladies, hut to (hab 
 iHgh attamments."- A'eio-Fwft Mirror. 
 
 THE BARONY. A Novel. .In] 2 vols. I2mo , By 
 Miss Anna Maria Porter. 
 
 " This is a delightful work— it mV be, and deserves to be, highly popular." - X**. GasetU, 
 
Works Recently Published, 
 
 DOMESTIC DUTIES; or Instructions to Married 
 Ladies. By Mrs. William Parkes. In 1 vol. 12mo. 
 [Stereotyped.] 
 
 "The volume before us is one of those practical works, which are of real value and uHlitr. 
 It 18 a perfect uade m^cum for the married lady, who may resort to it on all questions of household 
 
 q^SlAwM^^lymg. '' """^"^ '""'"'^ "''"' "^^''^ " ^^^'^^^ " '^y *° "- "^ 
 
 THE COOK'S ORACLE, AND HOUSEKEEPER'S 
 MANUAL. By William Kitchiner, M.D. Adapted to 
 the American Public, by a Medical Gentleman. 12mo. 
 [Stereotjrped.] 
 
 " This is a very good book— not calculated, as many may suppose, to promote luxury and 
 excess m eatmg, but impartmg information that will enable housekeepers to diministk their ex- 
 penses, while they add to their enjoyments."— iV. F. American. 
 
 " Dr. KKchinei's Manual, combining, as it does, for every rank of life, all that is useful in 
 domestic arrangements, with much that is amusing, will, we venture to say, be in possession of 
 everyone that can possibly obtain it. The poor man will soon gain from its maxims of frugality 
 more than its cost, and the rich will find its price tenfold in the increased delicacies of his table." 
 
 iV. y. Courier arid inquirer. 
 
 ENGLISH SYNONYMES,with copious Illustrations 
 and Explanations, drawn from the best Writers. By 
 George Crabb, M.A. A new Edition, enlarged. 8vo. 
 [Stereotyped.] 
 
 LIFE OF LORD BYRON. By Thomas Moore, Esq. 
 In2vols. 8vo. With a Portrait. [Stereotyped.] 
 
 "This is the best piece of biography of modern diys, not excepting Southey's Life of Nelson. 
 orI/)ckha.t'sspleudid biography of Burns."— iJiocftioocid'sil&g-aziw. 
 
 THE HISTORICAL WORKS of the Rev. WILLIAM 
 ROBERTSON, D.D. ; comprising his HISTORY of 
 AMERICA; CHARLES V.; SCOTLAND, and INDIA. 
 
 InSvols.Svo. Embellished with Plates. [Stereotyped.] 
 
 Harper's edition of these valuable standard worits is far superior, in every respect, to any other 
 edition ever published in this country ; and is to be preferred to Jones's University edition, as the 
 type is larger, the printing and pnper are equally ^ood, and Ihey are sold for less than Ihe cash price' 
 of that condensed edition. Each volume is a separate history in itself: and may be purchased 
 separately, or bound uniformly with the other volumes in sets. 
 
 GIBBON'S HISTORY of the DECLINE and FALL 
 of the ROMAN EMPIRE. In 4 vols. 8vo. With Platen. 
 [Stereotyped.] 
 
 Harper's edition of Gibbon's History is stereotj'ped, and srreat care has been taken to render ij 
 correct and -perfect. The dates originally introduced by the" author are preserved in the TaWes of 
 Contents prefLved to the Volumes, and also imbodied in the text. This will render the present 
 edition decidedly preferable to tii,f;^-;t!g!i3h edition in four vol ames, as in the latter ihe daies and 
 Tables of Contents are entirely 1/ -id. 
 
 COOPER'S SURGICAL DICTIONARY. In 2 vols 
 8vo. Greatly improved and enlarged by the Author. 
 [Stereotyped.] 
 
 Recently rev iaed by Mr. Cnnpe contains above two hundred page* of matter entire!* 
 
 original, besides numerous notes fi icau ;iurgeous 
 
Works Recently Publistiea- 
 
 THE HISTORICAL WORKS of the Rev. WILLIAM 
 ROBERTSON, D.D.; comprising his HISTORY of 
 AMERICA; CHARLES V.; SCOTLAND, and INDIA. 
 In 3 vols. 8vo. Embellished with Plates. 
 
 Harpef'S edition of these ^^uable standard works is far guperior, in every respect, to any other 
 edition ever publish.ed in this country j aad is to be preferred to Jones's I'uiversity edition, xa the 
 type is larger, the printing aati piper are equally good, and they are sold for iess than the c«»tl 
 price of that condensed edition. Each volume is a separate history in itseli ; and liiay be purchaisej 
 ieparately, or bound ixiformly with the other volumes in sets. 
 
 GIBBON'S HISTORY of the DECLINE^and'TALt 
 of the ROMAN EMPIRE. In4vols. 8vo. With Plates. 
 
 Harper's edition of Gibbon's Histoij is stereotyped, and great care has been taken to render i' 
 correct and perfect. The dates originally introduced by the author are preserved in the Tables- ' 
 Cocteuts prefixed to the Volumes, and also embodied in the text. This wiU render the pr«»f.t 
 editioa d^cided^ preferable to the English edition in four volumes, as m the latter the dates aoc 
 Tai)le8 of Contents are entirely omitted. 
 
 HOOPER'S MEDICAL DICTIONARY. From the 
 last London Edition. With Additions, by Samuel Aker^ 
 ly, M.D. 8vo. 
 
 In order to rtnder this stereotype edition of Hoopers Medical Dictiinary more acceptable ta 
 the medical public of the United States, considerable aduitions have been made, particularly o» 
 Materia Medica; Mioeralogy, Bot;ji7, Chemistry, Biography, &c &c. 
 
 GOOD'S (Dr. John Mason) STUDY OF MEDICINE. 
 In 5 vols. Svo. A new edition (Oct. 1829). With addi- 
 tions by Samuel Cooper, M.D. 
 
 <'_Dr. Good's extensive readins; and retentive niemery enaole him to enliven the most common 
 elementary details, by interweaving curious, uncoo.mon, or illustrative examples in almost every 
 page. — vV<; have no hesiLMion in pronouncing the work, beyond all comparison, t.he best of the kini 
 m 4he English language. With the naval, the military, the provincial, and the colonial practitioner, 
 file work before us ought at once to supersede the unscientific compilatioa of Dr. Thomas — and a 
 will do so." — Medico-Chirurg. Seview. 
 
 THE BOOK OF NATURE ; bemg a popular Illustra- 
 tion of the general Laws and Phenomena of Creation, in 
 its Um^rganized and Organized, its Corporeal and Mental 
 Departments. By John Mason Good, M.D. and F.R.S, 
 In one voL Svo, 
 
 "—the work is certainly the best philosophical digest of the liind which we oave seen." 
 
 London Monthly Rnino. 
 
 GIBSON'S SURVEYING. Improved and enlarged. 
 By James Ryan, Teacher of Mathematics, &.c. 8vo. 
 
 HISTORICAL VIEW of the LITERATURE of the 
 SOUTH OF EUROPE. By M. De Sismondi. Trans- 
 lated from the Original, with Notes. By Thomas Ros- 
 cce, Esq. In 2 large vols. Svo. 
 
 *' This IS a raluahle and interesting work. It presenti a broad and itener\l mew of the fjie and 
 protpreM of modem litenture, which will be read t>y tlioae wt>o are uniiitoruiei? oa the iubTCd 
 •rith e/)ual gratification acd improTemciit." — A'tui Timtt 
 
Works Recently Published. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE JEWS: (Nos. I. H. & HI. 
 of the Family Library.) By the Rev. H. H. Milman. In 
 3 volumes, 18mo. Illustrated with original Maps and 
 Woodcuts. 
 
 ",The high attainments of Professor Milman, as a classical and biblical scholar, are too well 
 known to require an extended notice from us ; and it will be sufficient to say, that the deep research 
 evinced in this work, is only equalled by ttie beauty of the style in which the history of the most 
 extraordinary nation in the world is presented ; free from the fables with which it has too often 
 
 been clothed, and far removed from the tediousness inseparable from the perusal of josephus." 
 
 Mercaritile Mvertser. 
 
 " Professor H. H. Milman is one of the most chaste and classical writera of the age. His Bamptoi!( 
 Lectures contain some of the most glowing and graphic descriptions which we ever read. Th*^' 
 History of the Jews embraced in the volumes before us, has already passed through three editions 
 in England, and is highly and justly commended by many of the most respectable periodicals of that 
 country." — N. Y. Journal of Commerce. 
 
 " It is written in a very interesting manner — in a more philosophical spirit, and with more 
 depth of reflection, than is generally found in histories of this nature. It is not wanting in 
 Jkistorical condensation, at the same time that the colouring of the style is lively and picturesque."— 
 tf. Y. Evening Post. 
 
 " The volumes before us are from the pen of a writer who holds a high place in the republic 
 »f letters, and contain a History of the oTews, the perusal of which must prove extremely interest- 
 jjg to the scholar and the Christian."— TruiA Ttller. - 
 
 " The name of the author alone is a strong recommendation of the work. Its simplicity will 
 engage the attention of the young reader, and gratify all. To youth it is one of the best of books. 
 The Christian will be delighted and instructed by it." — Albany Daily Advertiser. 
 
 " We feel confident, from the interesting nature of the subject, and the acknowledged talents 
 of the Author, that its success will be gi'eat ." — N. Y. Commercial Mvertiser. 
 
 " The name of Milman is familiar on this side of the Atlantic, as a scholar and a poet, and this 
 history will, it seems to be conceded on all hands, add largely to his reputation." — N. Y. American. 
 
 "Mr. Milman, whose great merits as a writer are acknowledged by every reader of taste In this 
 country, has taken the facts furnished by early and recent writers, and in his felicitous style has fur 
 nished one of the most interesting books that we have for some time examined. Notwithstanding 
 the familiarity of most general readers with many of the circumstances narrated by the author, 
 there is so much of the air of novelty in the manner of recital, that none can read it without 
 increasing pleasure.— l/n ited States Gazette. 
 
 " This is a work which must meet with a welcome reception among all claisses of readers. It is 
 one.of those rare productions which units all the charms of novelty, without the aid of romance; 
 and combine all the beauties of elegant and spirited composition, without diverting at all from 
 the record of historical facts.' — American Traveller. 
 
 " This History of the Jews is the best we have ever seen." — NeiO'England Palladiwrn. 
 
 " The style in which it is written is remarkably lucid and elegant ; attractive by its general 
 smoothness and simplicity, yet animated and forcible. The work must be popular, and we doubt 
 not ranked among the classics of the language." — Baltimore Republican. 
 
 " The volumes before us^re occupied by a learned and elegant History of the Jews, by the Rev. 
 H. H. Milman, a writer well known in the literary world by many successful efforts in ;rjse 
 and verse. A work of this kind, arranged to suit the taste of modem times, and freed from the 
 
 Erolixity of the ancient chronicles, has been much wanted for popular circulation. Mr. Milman'8 
 istory will meet, precisely, the wishes of the public." — Boston Statesman. 
 
 "Mr. Milman 's work is calculated to interest and instruct a greater number of readers of all 
 ages, than any book which has been produced for many years.' — Philadelphia Daily Chronicle. 
 
 "No man need fear, in procuring a work by Dr. Milman, that he will regret his purchase."— 
 Morning Herald. 
 
 "■ The Editors have been most fortunate in engaging on this work the pen of a scholar, both 
 classical and scriptural, and so elegant and powerful a writer, as the Poetry Professor. Few theolo- 
 gical works of this order have appeared either in ours or in any other language. To the Christian 
 reader of every age and sex — and we may add of every sect — it will be a source of the purest de- 
 light, instruction, and comfort : and of the infidels who open it merely that they may not remain 
 in ignorance of a work placed by general consent in the rank of an English classic, is there not 
 every reason to hope that many will lay it down in a far different mood ?" 
 
 Blac\woodU Magazim.. 
 
 " Though the subject'is trite, the manner of treating it is such as to command our deepest atten- 
 tion. While the work has truth and simplicity enough to fascinate a child, it is written with 
 a masterliness of the subject and an elegance of composition that will please the most refined and 
 fastidious reader." — Edinb. Saturday's Post. j 
 
 " It cannot help being one of the most deeply interesting works of the day: it is invaluaible to ■ 
 ttie Christian scholar." — Birm. Journal. 
 
 " The most popular history of the sons of Israel that has hitherto been published. The highest 
 enconium we can pass upon the work under notice is to urge its purchase, from a conviction of its 
 •triking and permanent worth." — Berkshire Chronicle. 
 
Works Recently Published, 
 
 THE LIFE OF LORD BYRON. By John Galt, Esq. 
 18mo. (No. IX. of the Family Library.) 
 
 ' *♦ If the work be not popular, we pity the taste which has suffered itself to 
 be misled from the due appreciation of works like that before us." — Edinburgh 
 Evening Post. 
 
 THE LIFE OF MOHAMMED, Founder of the Reli- 
 gion of Islam, and of the Empire of the Saracens. By 
 the Rev. George Bush, A.M. With a Plate. 18mo. 
 (No. X. of the Family Library.) 
 
 " This volume embraces a portion of history extremely interesting to the 
 reader, and the work well deserves a place among the others comprising th9 
 valuable series of the Family Library." — Evening Journal. 
 
 LETTERS ON DEMONOLOGY AND WITCH- 
 CRAFT. By Sir Walter Scott, Bart. 18mo. (No. 
 XL of the Family Library.) 
 
 " It would be difficult to select a more interesting subject for the pen of a maa 
 of genius than that of popular superstitions. To say that Scott has mads 
 more of it than any other man could have done, is only to add another tribute 
 and testimony to his acknowledged pre-eminence." — Boston Statesman. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE BIBLE. By the Rev. G. 
 R. Gleig. (Nos. XII. & XIII. of the Family Library.) 
 2 vols. ISmo. With a Map of Palestine. 
 
 " An able manual of Scripture History." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 " The author, having changed the profession of the sword for that of th« 
 Cross, carries into sacred literature the talent and vigour which made his 
 ' Subaltern' so interesting."— iV. Y. American. 
 
 NARRATIVE OF DISCOVERY AND ADVENTURE 
 IN THE POLAR SEAS AND REGIONS. With Illus- 
 trations of their Climate, Geology, and Natural History ; 
 and an Account of the Whale Fishery. By Professor 
 Leslie, Professor Jameson, and Hugh Murray. (No. 
 XIV. of the Family Library.) 18mo. With a Map and 
 numerous Engravings. 
 
 " The style is familiar, concise, and comprdhensive. The author is an ex- 
 cellent model for modern historians. This volume will greatly enhance the 
 vaiue of the Family Library."— Albany Evening Journal. 
 
 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF GEORGE IV. With 
 Anecdotes of Distinguished Persons of the last fifty Years. 
 By the Rev. George Croly, A.M. (No. XV. of the Fa- 
 mily Library.) 18mo. Containing a Portrait. 
 
 " The book is altogether such a work as might be expected firora a man of 
 
 strong sense and practised literature It abounds with profound observations. 
 
 The force and talent of the whole will he acknowledged by every reader of dis . 
 eernmeut."— Zriferory Gazette. 
 
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