v.-<. , wAar^ ;^ 5': SKETCH FROM PUBLIC LIFE, One ShiUing. -.# > A (SKETCH FROxM PUBLIC LIFE; FOUNDED UPOX RECENT DOMESTIC CIRCUMSTANCES ; WITH JVEEP NOT FOR ME! AM) OTHER POEMS. ' Ask )f what provocation 1 havthad? ' The strong: antipathy of Good to Bad. When Truth or Virtue an affront endnres, The affront is mine, ray friend, and I'hould he yours ; ' Mine, aa a frien;! to every worthy mind ; ' Ai:(l mine, as man who feels for all mankind." LONDON: PlilNTED FOR W. HONE, 55, FLEET-STREET. 1816. I1A\ xpd 'XUUNEK, Priarot.., N.-c:.'l^ J-tii-t-t M.ar... ^^ 4-574- TO THE READER. ^ The Writer of these lines has only to observe, oe that he is utterly unconnected with the individual 2 who is the subject of them, and knows nothing of the circumstances to which they refer, further than as they are before the public in a recent publication, and are matters of common notori- fig ety. Had he drawn a portrait from private life, *- he might, indeed, be suspected of having some S private pique to gratify ; a '' Sketch from Public ^ Life," can only be intended for the purposes of "^ public utility and /?m6/ic justice. The lesser pieces were not written with a view to publication ; the Writer, however, does not therefore expect any favour for them ; he only ^ asks for justice. His motive to publish at all has ^ been, a wish to plead, however feebly, the cause 5g of truth and virtue against the haughty and com- bined efforts of rank and talent. .322!IV7 Ti TO THE READER. Domestic infidelity has now become so com- mon, almost so fashionable a vice, that the strong terms of reprehension in which it is referred to by the writer, may' to many appear almost inappli- cable to the crime: it may be, that he judges of these things by an unusually severe, or, as he thinks, a more just and more exalted standard : it may be, that he would, if possible, excite others to try them by the same standard with himself. That supposed case of domestic infidelity which has lately occupied the attention of the world, undoubtedly appeared to him more than usually dangerous to public morals ; partly from the rank, but more, much more, from the talents of the in- dividual concerned. The melting pathos of that individual's pen in one instance, and its caustic severity in another, appeared equally calculated to divert reprehension from its right object ; it has been the wish of the present writer to afford, if in his power, an antidote to the poison : the attempt is, at least, meritorious; if crowned with success, it may be useful also. April 27, 1816. A SKETCH FROM PUBLIC LIFE. When spicy fragrance breathes through all the air In Sunda's isle, and life and joy are there, The deadly poison of the hated tree*, Strongly pestiferous, scatters misery; Each wafting gale imbibes the sickening breath, And blasted vegetation sinks in death. Should some sweet flower beneath its influence rise, Worthy of gentler gales, and happier skies, A moment bloom, protected by its shade, And hope for health within its lonesome glade, The poison more envenomed strikes it down, Prostrate it falls ! its life, its beauty gone ! * The Upas tree of Java. 8 A SKETCH FROM PUBLIC LIFE. Such Harold is! accomplished to rehearse Feeling's warm strain in strong and vivid verse; But used no more, himself, to weep, or feel, Than, for the lamb that fnlls, the slaught'ring steel. Scattered around his poisoned victims lie : And but to bloom beneath him, is to die. That mind how strange in each excels to rush Of moral ill nor deign at ill to blush ; To break each tie, despise each dearer claim ; Wander in paths of misery and shame ; Insult the weak, upon their tortures smile; The little greatness of triumphant guile! Neglect the charities of life its end; All that can elevate the man or mend : And be that little, despicable thing, More vile than vilest insect on the wing, The man that feels but for his " self- loved self," A base, un-loved, un-loving, sordid elf; Who, having followed all his lowly plan, An outlaw from the life and hope of man, Deems that, to cover all, enough his name Extended flies upon the breath of fame ; A SKETCH FROM PUBLIC LIFE. S Deems that to be forgiven, he needs but ask Nor e'en pretend to wear Repentance' mask. No hypocrite is he ! he'll frankly own His crimes, his follies, and his baseness done ; But say, " 'Twas I ! I that can love so true, " Because I loved, am therefore false to you ; " I that can feel so strongly, warmly feel, " Have therefore in your bosom plunged the steel ; *' Betrayed your hopes, insulted every claim, '^ Cut at your heart-strings, and traduced your fame ; " /have done this, but then ^twas I and you " Must straight forgive me, and admire me too ! " My heart is set to feeling's tone ! the line " That points each strong emotion sure is mine !" And so it is, and he maj/ feel but then 'Tis for himself, not for his fellow men; Emotion mai/ distract his tortured brain, Oh ! may it rack him still with well-earned pain ! But not the generous pain, the virtuous sigh. That heaves at others' wrongs, or misery; Not his the woe that warms and mends the heart, But a cold sorrow, and a deadening smart. 10 A SKETCH FROM PUBLIC LIFE. The gentle stream may fertilize the vale, And Nature smile beneath the tempered gale ; Barren the clime where nought but tempests shock, And the black torrent rends the stony rock. Such are the gentle thoughts his feelings own, Which claim for every virtue to atone ! Thus the vile artist, by such feelings swayed. Mangled a wretch, and then his pangs pourtrayed ; Studied the strugglings of that ghastly strife, And caught the lineaments of parting life *. * It is related of Parrhasius, a Grecian paiater, and contem- porary with Zedxis, that he bought a slave, and having conducted him to Athens, caused him to die in torments to serve as a model for a Prometheus which he was painting, at the moment when attached to the rock, and the Vulture, sent by Jupiter, was de- vouring his liver. We are assured that Parrhasius had the barbarity to prolong the sufferings of the unhappy slave, and exhort him to suffer them with courage. " Well done !" he cried, " that is an excellent attitude ! pain is strongly marked there ! " Rack him again," added he to the tormentors, " Rack him " again ; I want new traits of agony !" ^The slave at last died under unbearable sufferings See the Anecdotes des Beaux ArtSt Vol.1, p. 194. A somewhat similar story is also related of the celebrated Michael Angelo. A SKETCH FROM PUBLIC LIFE. 11 Thus some fanatic, with infuriate zeal, (His victim senseless on the blood-stain'd wheel) Discovers stili one latent sign of breath, One nerve untouched by torture and by death, And stretches there the cord from Harold fell A parting stab like this his " Fare thee well !" He found one cracking sinew ripe for pain, And wakened feeling, but to rack again* ; Assumed the husband's father's tender tone. The more to wound the heart he had undone ; No other arm than that which prest her found No other hand to give a cureless wound t. Unmanly cowardice ! to plant the steel There where the wife the mother most must feel ; Recall each tender tie, each social joy, The more to break them and the more destroy ; * " If any spark of life be yet remaining, " Down, down to helJ, and say I sent thee thither ! " I ! that have neither pity, love, nor fear !" Richard III. t " Could no other arm be found " Than the one which once embraced me, " To inflict a cureless wound ?" Pare thee well ! 12 A SKETCH FROM PUBLIC LIFE. Though undeserving, still to plead for love; Though unrepentant, still her feelings move; Triumph in wretchedness, insult the weak : Woman may suffer here, she must not speak ! And for his verse ! who has not glowed beneath His vivid * words that burn, and thoughts that breathe ?' Who has not love'd, admired, adored and what? A hardened villain ! or a graceless sot! Felt for the wretch to every vice a slave ! Gulled into admiration of a knave ! From Nature when he the dark portraits drew. The Giaour we recognized, the Corsair knew ; And, dress them forth in glory as he will. Scoundrels and knaves and villains are they still : So ill suffices all the gloss of rhyme. To often villainy, or varnish crime. And shall his song protect him ? shall he throw The torch of Discord and the shafts of Woe Safe and untouched because the hardy verse Burns in the libel, and new nerves the curse ? Or that the whining song, with softness fraught, Steals to the heart, by fancied feeling caught ? A SKETCH FROM PUBLIC LIFE. 1*3 Free, like his Corsair y on a desert isle In rocks embosomed, shall he safely smile ? Break, with irruptive force, all others' joy, And triumph in his pirate-like employ ? No ! all ye powers of verse ! insulted Maids ! Confound his triumph ! purify your shades ! Assert your rights to plead Truth's holy cause, Nor lend your aid to violate her lavs! The holy fires that kindle song refuse. And quench the inspiration of his Muse, Till virtue warm it ; and domestic love And wedded constancy his lines approve. If from his tongue the poison-froth must start, And venom issue from his viper-dart, Then, injured powers of Virtue ! come along ! And crush the worm through all its slime of song. Abhorred the plea by every honest heart, That talent shall protect the vicious part ! That man shall be admired, though worthless still. Because he may be better if he will. The weak mai/ fall, the ignorant offend. And Pity's tear lament their hapless end; 14 A SKETCH FROM PUBLIC LIFE. But when the strong are vile, the great are base, Derision and contempt their steps shall chase ; Yes ! they may fly ! but Scorn's pursuing hand Shall follow them through every distant land Food for the worm of Hate, the quenchless fire Of Conscience rack them, never to expire* ! Doubly enduring shall their tortures last, A fearful future, and a misspent past ; Perverted powers shall haunt their troubled sleep Common the crime ! their condemnation deep ! Unpitying indignation load their life With bitter misery, and ceaseless strife ; Thus shall they live, and wish in vain to die, Scorched in the burning sun of infamy + ! * " Where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched." St. Mark. t " And festering in the infamy of years." A Sketch from Private Life. 15 WEEP NOT FOR ME ! "Napoleon was exceedingly affected when he took leave of his " mother and sister on quitting Elba ; so much so, indeed, as to " say, * I must go now, or I shall never go,' But the same man, " when the beautiful Dutchess of took leave of him for the " last time after his abdication, and burst into tears at bidding " him adieu, looked at her unmoved, and saw her depart without " a single expression of sorrow or regard." Hobhouse's Last Reign of the Emperor Napolevn, Vol. 11. p. 76. Weep not for me ! sigh not for me ! But for thj children weep ! And sigh for all their glories Eternally that sleep ! Go ! bow the neck, the victims deck, And stoop before the throne, Which bigotry and tyranny Are seated firm upon. 16 WEEP NOT FOR ME ! The stranger gives thee now a King ; He bids the King be praised Go ! bow before the idol -thing Thine enemies have raised ! Thy foe and not thyself shall choose A ruler and a Lord ; And dare not hope not to refuse Th' election of his sword. Things in the shape of men have come Mere produce of the land ! Their servile lips have sealed thy doom ; And slaves thy fate command. Then, raise the voice of sorrow, And bitterly complain ! Thy night shall know no morrow No comfort soothe thy pain! WEEP NOT FOR ME I 17 The piercing cry of men that die Shall echo through thy vales ; And deeply-murmured curses fly Upon thy midnight gales. But not a hand to aid thee, And not a heart to lead, When the stranger shall invade thee, And Liberty shall bleed. Thou are not mine, nor shalt thou be ; Nor art thou e'en thine own : Thine owner and thy master, see ! Is seated on his throne. His fathers swayed before him ; In tyranny they swayed: For this thou must adore him ! For this he is obeyed ! 18 WEEP NOT FOR ME! Forget thy rights forget thy claims Forget thy love to me ; The Priest will light his bigot flames, Nor leave thy conscience free. Go ! chaunt the holy vespers then, And reckon every bead ; Forget the manly form of men ; Forget thy conscience-creed. The secret cell where freemen dwell, In Spain's detested towers! Full well thy coming fate will tell, And shew thy future hours : For there, in dungeons dark and deep, The tyrant's victims lie ; And there the heretic may sleep Till waked by agony. WEEP NOT FOR ME! 19 Yet, weep not dare not weep for him ! But for thy children sigh ! The chain may bind his servile limb His MIND has liberty ! Whilst thou hast crouch'd beneath a King, By those who scorn him prais'd ! And bow'd thee to an idol-thing Thine enemies have rais'd ! Weep not for me ! sigh not for me ! But for thy children weep ! Thy glory, rights, and liberty, Eternally that sleep ! 20 SHE IS NOT NEAR ! A BALLAD. I TURN to sing, I turn to sigh, To speak of joy, to breathe of fear; To seek for pleasure in her eje ;- Alas ! she is not near ! Who hath not waken'd from the dream That gives the heart its fond desire ? To sicken, as the morning beam, Proclaims the night a liar ! From such a dream I shuddering start ; Such is my joy, and such my fear : I turn to press her to my heart Alas ! she is not near ! 21 THE AGED HARPER. A BALLAD. In the morning of my days. When life was young, To merry, merry lays My harp-strings rung; And joyfully, joyfully I sung. I stemm'd in manhood's hour Full sturdily life's tide ; I saw no tempests lour, My harp by my side ; And the hills to my notes echoed wide. ti22ii\7 22 THE AGED HARPER. But now a prey to care, With heart no longer light, My hoary head is bare To the dews of night ; And joy, youthful joy has vanish'd quite. Then take the Minstrel home ! He fears yon rugged rath * ; And your hospitable dome, Your renovating hearth, Shall cheer him, shall cheer him to-morrow on his path. His songs of ancient story Your bounty shall repay ; And a gleam of former glory Still round his head play- Though the fire of his youth, of his youth be fled away. hill. 3 SLEEP. The Idea from the Latin. Gentle handmaid ! genial Sleep ! Though like Death's thy dark dominion ;- Round me still thy visions keep ! Fan me with thy downy pinion ! Balm of sorrow ! cure of strife ! On a couch oblivious lying; To live, without the care of life ! And die, without the pain of dying ! THE END. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. *' APR 8 f3ti APR yi ^2 61984 Form L9-,Sories 444 Ukii -'Sjv* c/ iiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 3 1158 00968 7335 AA 000 081666 \