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 SIR ABERDOUE; OR, THE 
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SIR ABERDOUR; 
 
 OR, THE SCEPTIC. 
 
 A ROMAUNT. 
 
 BY 
 
 WALTER P. J. PURCELL, Esq. 
 
 OF THE INNER TEMPLE. 
 
 ALDI 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 BASIL MONTAGU PICKERING, 
 
 196, PICCADILLY. 
 
 1863. 
 
TO 
 LIEUT. FREDERICK WILBRAHAM EGERTON, 
 
 BOYAL NAVY. 
 
 My dear Egerton, 
 
 N agreeable remembrance of the happy 
 days which we spent together in a re- 
 mote latitude — in a region where Na- 
 ture's smiles are hollowest, and man's finer feelings 
 soonest blunted, and where, but for the call of duty 
 and the voice of friendship, the page of life would 
 be either blank or filled with manifold discomforts, 
 — I inscribe to you these stanzas, the birth of which 
 you witnessed, and upon the growth of which you 
 
 loved to smile. 
 
 Your sincere friend, 
 
 Walter Purcell. 
 
 Civil and United Service Club, 
 Jersey, Nov. 22nd, 1862. 
 
" Parole mie, che per lo monde siete, 
 
 Quando trovate donne di valore, 
 
 Gittatevile a piedi umilemente, 
 
 Dicendo : a voi dovem noi fare onore." — Dante. 
 
 " My mystic rhymes, wide-wandering through the world, 
 
 When ladies of true worth ye chance to find, 
 Fall at their feet with all humility, 
 Saying : our duty is to do you honour." 
 
 Sir C. Ltell's Translation. 
 
10 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 II. 
 
 " If I am lonely, so was Richter too, 1 
 And yet she came at last — the perfect one, 
 Uniting mind to beauty, and as true 
 As promise of the next bright summer's sun. 
 This want of love should not that want of tone 
 Induce in all my actions, which doth look 
 As though my spirit were subdued or gone, 
 And I a ruin — I, who would not brook 
 
 Heaven's interference here, nor man's nor God's 
 rebuke, — 
 
 in. 
 
 " A ruin, like a crumbling pile of stone 
 Dismantled by a storm when earthquakes fail'd. 
 Hail, solitude ! I like to be alone ; 
 I am not grieved that I have not prevail'd, 
 For what had beauty, grace, and wit avail'd, 
 And she, worshipp'd of me, a worshipper, 
 By her absorbing deity impaled, 
 And thinking less of me than I of her ; — 
 
 I am not grieved ; no, I am a philosopher ! 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic, 1 1 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Maud was a perfect being but for this, 
 And but for this we never would have parted ; 
 I loved her as my only source of bliss, 
 Ere bliss seem'd false and woman hollow-hearted. 
 Whate'er design I fondly form is thwarted, 
 I my own instrument of wrong ; the flower 
 That brightest seems, which has its sweets imparted 
 We pluck, forgetting it will droop that hour ; 
 
 Each pleasure hath its sting, and this e sweet world * 
 is sour. 
 
 " As Maud was gentle I regret her loss, 
 As she was artless I do grieve the more, 
 As she so loved me I could almost gloss 
 Her failing o'er — nay, I could gloss it o'er,- 
 She God adored as Nature I adore ; 
 But we are sever'd now, I cannot sigh 
 Child-like in silence, nor will I implore ; 
 As I would fling a faded floweret by 
 
 So cast I her aside ; hail, my philosophy ! " 
 
12 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic, 
 
 VI. 
 
 Who is this man that lispeth thus alone 
 Upon the bay of Naples and at night, 
 Looking as though the waters were his own, 
 And fawning on him was the pale moonlight ? 
 He brooded o'er the wreck of visions bright, — 
 Visions which love had raised and pride did mar ; 
 A sceptic he believed himself, polite, 
 Accomplish'd, learned, in opinions' war 
 Rude and tyrannical, as learned sceptics are. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Bold in ideas, eager to express, 
 
 He had th' Omnipotent dethroned, and named 
 
 The earth, his heaven, to be a wilderness. 
 
 A star o'er his horizon rose which claim'd 
 
 His adoration ; but, his mind inflamed, 
 
 He strangely minister'd ; — to his drear world 
 
 Love would not stoop ; he argued, frown'd, and 
 
 blamed : 
 Like Day's proud glories in the evening furl'd, 
 Love's star declined, and clouds again around him 
 whirl'd. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 13 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Distemper'd minds seek in a change of scene 
 What sick men do in physic, with success 
 Alike proportion'd ; there are ills as keen 
 Of mind as body, when bright scenes, no less 
 Than the physician's skill, seem worthlessness. 
 Italian skies, warm as the blush of love, 
 Italian meads, fragrant as love's caress, 
 Wherein, as in their garden, nations rove, 
 For some no joy can bring, no sorrow can remove. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Sir Aberdour — our hero's name — was young, 
 And seem'd with a Byronic tinge imbued ; 
 He wasted day the proud and fair among, 
 To laugh at them at night in solitude : 
 Not man, not nature, but himself had strew'd 
 His path with thorns ; yet so perverse was he, 
 The world he view'd, in silent angry mood, 
 As hostile, gross, — his traitor enemy : 
 If men cry " wrongs," like u ghosts," wrongs they 
 expect to see. 
 
14 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 Man hated he, and woman he despised, 
 But often own'd he woman's influence ; 
 He had a fair ideal 'twas surmised, 
 'Tis certain he did woo on such pretence ; 
 No woman without fault; some wit, some sense, 
 Some moral courage wanted, each was spurn'd 
 As though each had betray'd his confidence ; 
 Despairing of success at length he urn'd 
 His sacred flame, and burn'd like others, wildly burn'd. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Now he had been in Naples just six weeks, 
 And what he styled his proud philosophy — 
 Indifference merely — soon was lost in freaks, 
 A few of which we'll mention by-and-bye. 
 His nights no longer pass'd lie musingly 
 Upon the moon-lit waters, and no more 
 For Maud and home enjoyments did he sigh ; 
 He lived upon excitement, acting o'er 
 Life's spicy scenes, such as described by Little Moore. 
 
Sir -Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 15 
 
 XII. 
 
 'Twas night, and in a noble's rich saloons 
 Was held a revel or new style of ball ; 
 Flowers everywhere were hung in gay festoons, 
 Arm'd Cupids were seen springing from the wall, 
 It seem'd as if Cotytto's festival 2 
 Was there revived, — the women look'd so bare, 
 The men so jolly, and so phrenzied all ; 
 They all wore masks, which ill conceal'd the fair ; 
 I blush to say there were two English ladies there. 3 
 
 XIII. 
 
 They danced in couples ; when the dance was o'er 
 Each couple stray 'd into embower'd seats ; 
 Then talk'd and sigh'd and smiled they as before : 
 And reason, as the wine flows in, retreats. 
 A shepherdess, with swain emerging, meets 
 A German student, who, intent on strife, 
 Bows, lifts his arms, and with loud kisses greets ; 
 The masks fall off, the lady prays for life, — 
 The student, English now, " My wife," cries, " Gods, 
 my wife !" 
 
16 Sir Aber dour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The swain, at first indignant, calmly gazed 
 On the sad scene till he had caught the eye 
 Of Lord A.'s gipsy girl, whose mask he raised 
 With one or two words of apology; — 
 " By Jove," he roar'd, " a victim too am I !" 
 So play'd those English gentlemen their parts, 
 Betray'd they each the other seemingly, — 
 To gain divorce ; they cared not what vile arts 
 They practised on their wives, — the world denied 
 them hearts. 
 
 xv. 
 
 A certain Count St. Julian gave that fete 
 His English friends to suit ; they would as much 
 To please the count, but that sad reprobate 
 Deem'd it a most unholy thing to clutch 
 Two living wives ; however, things were such 
 When he invited Aberdour, he fail'd 
 On the expected denouement to touch : 
 This saves our hero from the shame entail'd, 
 For I must doubt he could poor wives have so assail'd. 
 
Sir Aberdour; or, the Sceptic. 17 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " woman," cried he, as at early morn 
 He left St. Julian's sadden'd by that place ; 
 " Poor woman ! though the brightest creature born, 
 The vilest still thy beauties can deface. 
 Where are thy charms to shield thee from disgrace 
 When link'd to perjured man ? Where is thy 
 
 might 
 When an intriguing mother plays thee base? 
 And where thy courage when gleams in thy sight 
 
 A coronet or wealth? Dimm'd, woman, is thy light ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " They treat thee now, whilst lasts thy sun's eclipse, 
 As dogs of old were treated in Peru 
 During eclipses of the moon, with whips 4 — 
 Of scandal, scorn, indifference, and you 
 Strong in your weakness, to yourself not true ! 
 One maiden could a low vile spot on earth 
 Endear to Dante, 5 so my Maud can do 
 For her whole race, though gone is part her worth : 
 
 Woman, love half redeems and throws a halo round 
 thy birth. 
 
 C 
 
18 Sir Aberdour; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Thy place near man is in his shade always, 
 Not for the glare are thy soft beauties made; 
 Most plants may bloom where the free sunshine 
 
 plays, 
 But some will flourish only in the shade. 6 
 To yield thee his protection, not upbraid 
 For thy dependence — an endearing charm — 
 Is man's first duty, which, too long delay'd, 
 The garish world thy lovely tints may harm, 
 
 And so may droop earth's fairest flower, — too cold,— 
 too warm. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " Thou injured art if man his smiles withhold, 
 And ruin'd, if bestow'd, he them withdraw ; 
 Trust not thy charms, too like a tale untold ; 
 Esteem alone can fix love's changing law. 
 The slave or minion triumphs with eclat, 
 Till sameness gives satiety ; with wit 
 Is woman something more than a gewgaw : 
 The seasons roll, each for enjoyment fit — 
 
 A woman's phases may or not seem exquisite ! " 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 19 
 
 xx. 
 
 The noble Count, though he affected much, 
 Effected little that can be commended ; 
 He loved the wassail bowl, high play, and such, 
 And once a week his way to mass he wended : 
 I cannot say what thoughts in church were blended, 
 But 'twas observed, as quite a common thing, 
 When his devotions and the service ended, 
 He straightway sought some festive gathering, 
 As if new zest for vice was found in worshipping. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 A polish'd hypocrite like Jean de Paull, 
 Pray'd he upon the highways, — ever civil ; 
 Because his uncle was a cardinal, 
 He play'd the saint to safer act the devil, 
 But harm'd none save himself by all his evil : 
 A fool in wisdom's garb at morn, at night 
 A fool confest disporting at a revel ; 
 With fortune toy'd he till the luckless wight 
 Found friends and fortune gone, himself a Timonite. 
 
20 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 But one or two months after his strange treat 
 He sought our hero, sad and penniless : 
 Here he with sympathy was sure to meet, 
 Not with revilings at his own distress 
 With which false friends assuage such bitterness. 
 Sir Aberdour gave what advice he could, 
 And gold, — a noble heart could do no less ; 
 And such was poor St. Julian's gratitude, 
 He grasp'd our hero's hands, and thanking, sobbing, 
 stood. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 The fount of virtue is not yet quite dry, 
 If tears acknowledge guilt's mistaken creed ; 
 There's still a spark of generosity 
 In the sear'd heart, if on the brow we read 
 Emotions kindled by a generous deed. 
 The Count regretted errors past ; sincere 
 Indeed he seem'd, so Aberdour decreed 
 His friend should have two hundred pounds a-year : 
 Though oft he smiled on vice, he still held virtue dear. 
 
Sir Aber dour ; or, the Sceptic. 21 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 It happen'd at this time a maid there came 
 From merry England, rich and beautiful ; 
 As scandal had been busy with her name, 
 And science' representative too dull, 
 Who wrong affirm 'd she was " too loveable," 7 
 The court expelPd her from its train ; her home 
 Was interdicted till the storm should lull : 
 Here, with a few attendants, she had come, 
 To die in secret, like a vestal of old Rome. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Poor Lady Flora ! how her pure young heart 
 Must have revolted at that imaged crime ; 
 How crush'd her spirit, when she, on the part 
 Of her accusers, heard her mother's chime. 
 Oh ! that she could annihilate all time — 
 So wreck'd her mind, her anguish so intense : 
 She shall not live long in a foreign clime, 
 With nought to cheer her but her innocence, 
 And the bright hope in heaven of future recompense. 
 
22 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic, 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Ill tidings spread like germs of noxious plants 
 Which visit every spot to spring anew, 
 And, like the praise of fawning sycophants, 
 Can gull the many to disgust the few. 
 Soon as the English folk at Naples knew 
 Of Lady F.'s arrival, they had known 
 Of her imputed crime, which most thought true : 
 But Aberdour, who had in childhood grown 
 Beside that gentle girl, believed injustice shown. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 He did not visit her, but wrote instead, 
 And the doom'd girl put on a dying smile 
 That one was found who had not credited 
 The base report ; one of her own dear Isle : 
 She little reck'd how foreign tongues defile ; 
 But foreign tongues, in mouths of foreign lords, 
 Praised high her beauty, and reveal'd the guile 
 That actuates where there are high rewards : 
 Alas ! what humbling lessons human life affords ! 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 23 
 
 XXYIII. 
 
 All honour to St. Julian ! he was not 
 Among those noble suitors who there strove 
 As though their love or honour could be bought — 
 Their honour prostrate lay before their love — 
 Not of the maiden, but her dowry of : 
 He well concerted with his bounteous friend, 
 Whose friendship for the dying girl did prove 
 How much one proud unselfish heart can tend 
 To gladden life's beginning, and beguile its end. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 * Now there are sounds of mirth and minstrelsy, 
 And are assembled in the festive hall, 
 The proudest of haught Naples' chivalry ; 
 One seat is vacant, — how they wonder all ! 
 Where stays the master of the festival ? 
 Lo ! he re-enters, bringing in his train 
 Nine fair Barbagian girls ; 8 most magical 
 Their glances are in eddying each brain : 
 
 A pause, and all as joyously goes on again. 
 
24 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Cease melody, and dam mirth's current up ; 
 Look awed, ye lackeys ; hush'd be all strange 
 
 sounds : 
 An English lord doth come this way to sup ; 
 Make clear the path, — here comes the Marquis ! 
 
 Zounds ! 
 A sleek church-beadle ! 9 How his robe confounds 
 The taste of those fastidious foreigners ! 
 The greeting o'er dull compliment abounds ; 
 And Aberdour, the pseudo-Marquis, errs 
 In not once smiling on the painted sepulchres. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 At signal from the host, a blaze of light 
 Flash'd from a dozen mirrors then reveal'd ; 
 At the same moment rose our English knight, 
 And, in the name of chivalry, appeal'd 
 To each true gentleman, if rank should shield 
 Dishonour rampant round a woman's heart. 
 He challeng'd to stand forth, or there to yield 
 Their names to reprobation, those whose art 
 Was vile dissemblance, — those who play'd the 
 coward's part. 
 
Sir Aber clour ; or, the Sceptic. 25 
 
 XXXII, 
 
 Few understood him ; of that few he spoke, 
 And at them cast a fierce accusing glance : 
 He stood not there like men in party's yoke, 
 Who bully China and succumb to France ; 10 
 M Mild with the weak, but on the strong advance," 
 Was the proud dictate which he well obey'd ; 
 In their own stronghold he would break a lance 
 With false and haughty knights, and have essay 'd 
 All that one heart and arm could in fair woman's aid. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 None answer'd his appeal, and none did stare 
 More than the culprits, which enraged the more ; 
 He dared — what would an Englishman not dare 
 When wroth with tyrants he despised of yore ? — 
 To hurl defiance at them all, and o'er 
 The world proclaim what puling babes such are. 
 Darken the mirrors, ominous be the hour; 
 And now, St. Julian, having served thus far 
 By playing host, let not your outraged feelings war. 
 
 D 
 
26 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 
 " Here cast I off my gorgeous robe of state, 
 Here trample on my princely coronet, 
 Here break my wand of office. Just as great 
 As when I wore those baubles ain I yet ! 
 Ye worship outward forms, as children set 
 Their hearts on tinsell'd nothings ; and do ye 
 Move to and fro like pompous estafette, 
 Enslaving others and yourselves not free. 
 
 Ye have not e'en a nation : look at Italy ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " Hush, not a murmur! I will make you blush 
 With shame, as do these girls with shamelessness; 
 And ye shall quake like despots at the rush 
 Of banded subjects to enforce redress. 
 Ye have no nation, say I, and still less 
 Ye have no nationality save this, — 
 A love of pomp, and utter listlessness. 
 Sunk as a people are ye in the abyss 
 
 Of social thraldom and unrighteous prejudice. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 27 
 
 xxxvi. 
 
 " United in religion and in tongue, 
 Yet are Italians strangers through the land ; 
 The elements of greatness them among 
 Are scatter'd by a fierce, despotic hand, 
 To coalesce not whilst here burns the brand 
 Which disunites the government of things. 
 They glory in their country ! 'Tis a grand 
 And lovely Eden, portion'd amongst kings, 
 
 The nobles keepers, and the people underlings ! 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " Pray stay, and be not irate ; I would teach 
 How slaves, by nature noble, may be free : 
 But hear me yet a little, and my speech 
 I'll shape to please, or I'll talk history, 
 And mark what must your own reflections be. 
 Lopp'd from the Western Empire at its fall. 
 Bold Odoacer ruled o'er Italy : 
 The Goths invaded, and the people all 
 
 Cried ( Mercy !' thinking they were supernatural. 
 
28 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 " With Totila expired the Gothic sway, 
 And, through an exarch at Ravenna ruled 
 The Greek, till, breaking images one day, 
 Those the most orthodox took umbrage, school'd 
 Their fellows, and the flaunting Greek down pull'd. 
 The Lombards had come through the Alpine pass, 
 Left undefended, — how the exarchs fool'd ! 
 And to protect from them the Pope said mass, 
 But also thank'd the Franks to lend their aid in case. — 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 " The Pope gave unto Pepin, he to him, 
 And thus commenced those mutual kindnesses 
 Which pick'd to pieces the one diadem, 
 And Italy convulsed with wantonness. 
 I will not recapitulate with stress 
 The wars of faction ; let the severance 
 Which has resulted, as you see, express 
 What this fair land has suffer'd in its trance, 
 And how well loved should be small kingly cormorants. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 29 
 
 XL. 
 
 " There is one feature in the scene left out 
 Which I would mention as encouraging, 
 Like episode in some wild tale, about 
 Fierce Eastern ghouls where flaps a fairy's wing : 
 When swept the cohorts of the Hunnite king 
 Like clouds of locusts, making night of day, 
 There was a quick and silent gathering 
 Of few stout hearts, and well preferr'd they 
 To fly with freedom, than with slavery to stay. 
 
 XLT. 
 
 " The Adriatic ofFer'd its lagoons, 
 
 And thither hasten'd the heroic few ; 
 
 There Venice rose, and with its rise attunes 
 
 Revived Italian glory : how it threw 
 
 Commotion's waves off, as if there it grew 
 
 Like coral isle rejecting stormy seas ; 
 
 Its people thrived such as few nations do : 
 
 Like Raleigh's unsubdued Warraws in trees, 11 
 They lived upon the waters, fann'd by freedom's 
 breeze. 
 
30 Sir Aberdour; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 w Ah ! you look pleased ! and I well pleased am too ! 
 Now that you smile I long to make the tears 
 Gush forth for shame, which I at once can do. 
 Be not alarm'd, good sirs ; dispel those fears ; 
 I will not deal in magic, but in sneers ; 
 The earth doth shake, — just fancy that you feel 
 A rocking motion ; that your eyes and ears 
 Are keenly sensitive, and much reveal 
 
 Which you dare not disclose and yet cannot conceal. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 " I see it all ! I hear their piercing cries ! 
 The earth did shake, and shake as if it meant 
 To heave man off with all his infamies ; 
 And from amidst the ravage now is sent 
 One universal cry for succour, blent 
 With dying groans and prayers address'd to 
 
 Heaven : 
 Lo ! Heaven sends to remit their punishment ; 
 The peasantry rush to the towns : they even 
 
 Vie in the race to give what aid that can be given. 
 
SirAberdour; or, the Sceptic. 31 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " What film is o'er my eyes ? what spell 's at work ? 
 If these be angels, they are fallen ones : — see, 
 They plunder, riot — not as would the Turk 
 In a sack'd city. 12 Oh! what devilry ! 
 The dead and dying — no, not they are free 
 From robbing hands : in vain poor palsied age 
 Is suppliant ; in vain doth infancy, 
 Appealing from a mother's looks, engage 
 
 Those scowling, impish men, relentless in their rage ! 
 
 XLY. 
 
 " That shriek ? 'tis from a virtuous girl I See there, 
 The hellish beast hath caught her in his arms ; 
 Earth gape awide and swallow up the pair, 
 Life without honour hath for her no charms. 
 Ay, strike, infuriate girl ! He frowns, he storms : 
 Strike, strike again, thy bodkin wounds his neck ; 
 Thank Heaven, he slays her and himself disarms, 
 And virtue smiles to consecrate the wreck 
 
 Of beauty's form, crush'd ere the touch of guilt could 
 speck ! 
 
32 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 "Would those Calabrian scenes have e'er occurr'd 
 If the Calabrian peasants were not slaves ? 
 Pelf is their only talismanic word, 
 And look they too askant beyond their graves. 
 From re-enactment of such scenes what saves 
 Ev'n Naples ? Ha ! I feel an earthquake's shock ; 
 Where shall you find the shelter pity craves ? 
 True, there it is again ! doth Heaven us mock ? 
 Ay, tremble ; the Calabrian fiends here may flock ! 
 
 XL VII. 
 "What! metamorphosed into men, ye girls, — 
 Yea, into demons ? Ha, ha, ha ! brave lords, 
 Look not so ludicrous and so like churls ; 
 Most bravely done to draw your trusty swords, 
 And — lose them. Ha, ha, ha ! bind ye with cords ! 
 The fiends I do think mean insult now ; 
 Avaunt, ye slaves ! know that in deeds or words 
 An insult couch'd, resentment on the brow 
 Of those who witness, as of those who bear, should 
 show." 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 33 
 
 XL VIII. 
 
 Next day mercurial rumour roam'd about ; 
 In no two places was its tale the same, — 
 " The English lord amused himself, no doubt, 
 As madmen will." " To frighten and thus shame 
 Our nobles, meant he ; he so hates our name." 
 " They had, they say, with real imps to cope ; 
 No wonder, then, the Englishman should blame 
 Our Holy Church ; he talk'd of freedom, hope, 
 Which clearly meant he wanted to o'erthrow the 
 Pope." 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 But notwithstanding all this talk and noise, 
 None sought our hero save one Aldobrandi, 
 Who thought himself sufficient counterpoise 
 For half the world, if half he hated, — and he 
 But thought like any other well-bred dandy. 
 With him was honour no mere bagatelle, 
 And words, when he could act, he would not 
 
 bandy : 
 He claim'd descent — the rest was very well — 
 From that famed Tegghiaio whom great Dante sent 
 
 to helL 
 
 E 
 
34 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 L. 
 
 Famed Tegghiaio Aldobrandi left a name 
 Renown'd in war and great in politics ; 13 
 But he had vices which the blush of shame 
 Should cause to mantle in his offspring's cheeks. 
 The boast of ancestry but little speaks 
 When great and small descend from small and great; 
 However, it doth fill the world with tricks : 
 Young Aldobrandi, of no great estate, 
 And but a boy, seem'd like a mighty potentate. 
 
 LI. 
 
 They fought with swords; twice Aberdour disarm'd 
 The hot-brain'd youth, and twice gave back his 
 
 life: 
 Conduct so generous might well have charm'd, 
 But the boy piqued himself on love of strife, — 
 He must love something, if he hate his wife ! 
 Disarm'd again, his sword in pieces flew ; 
 Our knight now did what cut like keenest knife — 
 His bright unvengeful blade he from him threw, 
 Disdaining to chastise more than contempt would do. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 35 
 
 LII. 
 
 The youth stood silent and subdued, with gaze 
 Half meant for homage fix'd upon his foe ; 
 His pride he strangled, and in words of praise 
 Its requiem was heard ; so solemn, low, 
 His accents were, 'twas more a funeral show : 
 Though there and then the youth did seem to be 
 Foregoing much, he little did forego : — 
 False pride he lost, but self-respect gain'd he, 
 And learn'd he then to think, and with his own eyes 
 see. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 The mind Locke likens to an acorn — e'en 
 The undeveloped oak, which time unseals ; 
 Descartes compares it, with more truth, I ween, 
 To a blank chart which observation fills ; 
 Too often early prejudice distils 
 Its poison drops, and sullies the fair page ; 
 With Aldobrandi's mind 't was so : it thrills 
 To find the people of a bygone age 
 Observe for half the world, and so the mind encage. 
 
36 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic, 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Till Aldobrandi was convinced by facts, 
 He deem'd all English heretic and base-— 
 Hereditary foes of truth, whose acts 
 Seem glorious only as they heap'd disgrace 
 On church antagonistic, — hated race. 
 Is there no prejudice, no counterblast 
 That blows from England ? True, alas ! our pace 
 In ire, invective, hate, is just as fast ; 
 Though we did not start first, we strive to be not 
 last. 
 
 LV. 
 
 A hostile influence prevails o'er plants — 
 Beside the vigorous the weak will fall : 
 A hostile influence supplies the wants 
 Of all things animate, or nearly all ; 
 And it doth seem as alike natural 
 That man should war with man, and that should be 
 Evil as well as good : 'tis mystical 
 Whence evil comes, when Divine purity 
 All space pervades ; mayhap 'tis from necessity. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 37 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Out of creation evil issued, 
 For evil is but imperfection shown ; 
 Things are imperfect because limited, 
 And limited creation is, we own. 
 The ills of flesh and pangs of mind are known, 
 But not so nature's workings when unfelt : 
 Though mighty little man of late has grown, — 
 When he would pierce the heavens, there to have 
 dwelt 
 Like daring Icarus', his waxen pinions melt. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 His insufficiency and nothingness 
 
 Felt Aberdour, as sceptics all must feel ; 
 
 He seem'd like one in forest frontierless, 
 
 Led by the chase and on-inciting zeal, 
 
 Who, lost, looks round and round, and then doth 
 
 wheel 
 Into some path, whatever path it be , 
 On rushes he, heedless of thunder peal, 
 With stern and wild impetuosity : 
 Love claim'd his ardour once, now it was Italy ! 
 
38 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 And o'er the fate of this fair land, its past 
 And future, ponder'd he, till hope and fear 
 Became so blended that each phrase the last 
 Did seem to contradict, and doubting e'er 
 He moved nor distant friends nor tyrants near : 
 The fault was not so much his own as theirs 
 For whom he labour'd, who one day revere 
 The pomp that crushes them the next, their cares 
 Trusting kind Heaven to soothe, or any hand that 
 dares, 
 
 Lix. 
 Besides their own ; — thus wanting, in the first 
 And firmest law of nature, self-reliance, 
 Without which pigmies would be all accurst, 
 And divers races be stamp'd out by giants. 
 Sir Aberdour grew weary of compliance 
 With stern resolves such slaves to disenthral ; 
 And losing much of his peculiar buoyance, 
 He bade adieu to Italy, where all 
 Seems specious mirth and mockery — a vast state ball. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 39 
 
 " Adieu, fair Italy ! 'tis vain 
 
 To point to glory once thine own, 
 And hope remembrance of thy reign 
 
 Shall yet erect thy fallen throne. 
 Thy fertile soil and sunny sky 
 
 Attract, as a rich prize will do ; 
 What fool cannot find sympathy 
 
 Whose wrongs are many, faults but few 
 The slave that looks defiant not 
 Beneath the lash deserves his lot. 
 
 They say thy genial clime did haste 
 
 Man's freedom from barbarity ; 14 
 Like hot-house plant's, thy growth and waste, 
 
 Too forced to last, thy energy. 
 Are there no young and healthy germs 
 
 To grow apace and flower by-and-bye? 
 Thy youth, aurelia like, but forms 
 
 Nidus for an Ichneumon-fly : 15 
 And tyrannies their growth attain 
 From nutrient bodies of the slain. 
 
40 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic, 
 
 3. 
 
 " Oh, for the hour, the glorious hour, 
 
 Ere thou hadst, like the butcher-bird, 16 
 Drawn others so within thy power, 
 
 That death did smite whene'er you stirr'd ; 
 When, like the green-wing'd jacamar, 17 
 
 Thou sangest sweetly all day long, 
 And people gather'd from afar 
 
 To view thy beauty, hear thy song ; 
 In thy young happy spring time, when 
 Thy sons stood in the ranks of men : 
 
 4. 
 " When friendship's bail for life was life, 
 
 And honour's pledge ev'n death redeem'd, 
 When during peace, as midst the strife, 
 
 Italian heroes greatest seem'd ; 
 Whilst stern simplicity prevail'd, 
 
 And ruled one universal mind, 
 And every thought and deed avail'd 
 
 To exalt their country, tame mankind ; 
 Ere introduced was luxury, 
 Ere selfishness enslaved the free ! " 
 
NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 " If I am lonely, so was Richter too." 
 
 T is Jean Paul Richter, I think, who is said to 
 have complained that he was nearly thirty years 
 of age before he met a woman whom he could 
 really love. 
 
 2 " It seem'd as if Cotyttd's festival." 
 
 The festival of Cotytto (Goddess of all Debauchery) was cele- 
 brated, during the night, by the Athenians, Corinthians 
 Thracians, &c 
 
 3 "I blush to say there were two English ladies there." 
 
 The bal masque is to morals what the ballot is to politics, both 
 are inseparable from abuse, and are favoured by the ill-judging 
 crowd. The same may be said of the Carnival abroad, which 
 permits, as in Spain, such games among the lower orders as 
 
42 Notes. 
 
 Don Pelljo. Happily the bal masque is not fashionable in 
 England. 
 
 Not many years ago, a gentleman, well connected and highly 
 educated, as the phrase is, brought an action for crim. con. 
 against another, with the view of ultimately obtaining a divorce 
 e vinculo matrimonii. It transpired during the proceedings that 
 the defendant had a counter charge to bring against the plain- 
 tiff, and on close inquiry it was found that each had " wronged 
 the other," and that the whole affair was one of mutual accom- 
 modation. 
 
 I cannot see how recent legislation has amended the law re- 
 lating to divorce, as the matrimonial tie can still be severed by 
 a simple fiat, and glaring evils are numerous as before. 
 
 4 " As dogs of old were treated in Peru 
 During eclipses of the moon" 8fC. 
 
 " The Peruvian dogs," says Humboldt in his Cosmos, " had a 
 peculiar part to play in eclipses of the moon ; — they were 
 beaten until the eclipse was over." 
 
 5 " One maiden could a low vile spot on earth 
 Endear to Dante." 
 
 The city of Lucca, though infamous for its peculators, was en- 
 deared to Dante by its being the residence of the beautiful 
 Gentucca. 
 
Notes. 43 
 
 6 " Most plants may bloom where the free sunshine plays , 
 But some will flourish only in the shade" 
 
 In the tropics, lichens and mosses luxuriate only in shady 
 places. Some of our indigenous plants thrive best in the 
 shade. 
 
 7 " As scandal had been busy with her name, 
 And science' representative too dull, 
 Who wrong affirmed she was l too loveable^ " 
 
 In London, and throughout the country generally, there were 
 great rejoicings in honour of the supposed birth of a prince, 
 heir to Queen Mary's throne. One of the preachers was 
 actuated by such devoted loyalty, that, after describing the 
 fair proportions of the infant prince, he invited his " dearly 
 beloved brethren" to join with him in thanking Heaven for 
 the favour vouchsafed. " But for all this great labour," 
 says quaint old Holinshed, in his Chronicle, " for their young 
 maister, long looked for, coming so surely into the world, in 
 the end appeared neither young maister nor young mais tress, 
 that any man to this day can hear of." Mary was affected 
 with dropsy, and luckily was married. Many a virtuous girl, 
 similarly affected, has been exposed to undeserved obloquy 
 and hurried to the grave, in consequence of physicians pro- 
 nouncing too hastily-formed an opinion. The circumstances 
 referred to in the text are in part connected with the name of 
 a virtuous and accomplished lady, which must be familiar to 
 many. 
 
44 Notes. 
 
 8 " Nine fair Barbagian girls." 
 
 Barbagia is a tract in Sardinia, notorious, in the time of Dante, 
 for the immodesty of its females. 
 
 9 " Here comes the Marquis ! Zounds ! 
 A sleek church-beadle!" 
 
 I have heard it mentioned that an English nobleman appeared 
 at a continental ball-room — not a bal masque — in the distin- 
 guishing costume of a metropolitan church-beadle. He was 
 sufficiently distinguished and was not shown out. 
 
 10 " He stood not there like men in party's yoke. 
 Who bully China and succumb to France." 
 
 These lines were written in 1858, at the time the public were 
 loud in their complaint against the Liberal Party for their con- 
 duct in relation to China and France. 
 
 11 " Like Raleigh's unsubdued warraws in trees." 
 
 Sir W. Raleigh saw the fins of Orua-rau-ates (warraws) high 
 up in the trees. — Discov. of Guiana, 1596, p. 40. Humboldt 
 says of this people, they owe the preservation of their moral 
 and physical independence to the half submerged marshy soil 
 (Delta of the Orinoco) over which they lightly tread, and to 
 their elevated dwellings in the trees. 
 
Notes. 45 
 
 12 " They plunder, riot — not as would the Turk 
 In a sack'd city /" 
 
 In 1783 there was a dreadful earthquake in Calabria, when the 
 peasants, abandoning the farms, rushed into the towns, not 
 to aid their countrymen, but to plunder. They behaved 
 like fiends, evincing no sympathy for the wounded as they 
 dashed along the streets and into the houses, and were known 
 to have in many instances stripped the dying and dead of 
 their clothes. — Dolomie" quoted by Lyell. 
 
 13 " Famed Tegghiaio Aldobrandi left a name 
 Renown'd in war and great in politics" 
 
 A noble Florentine, though a great patriot and politician, and 
 of renowned military talent, punished, in Dante's "Inferno," for 
 his vices. 
 
 14 " They say thy genial clime did haste 
 L Mari s freedom from barbarity" 
 
 Pliny contains an eulogium on the Hesperian sky, the genial 
 mildness of which, according to the dogma of the older Py- 
 thagoreans, " early hastened the liberation of mankind from 
 barbarism." 
 
46 Notes, 
 
 15 " Thy Youth, aurelia like, but forms 
 Nidus for an Ichneumon-fly.'"' 
 
 The Ichneumon-fly (Pimpla persuasorid) deposits its eggs in 
 the bodies of other living insects, which it does by means of 
 a sharp and strong abdominal tube or ovipositor. The eggs 
 are hatched in a few days, and the young larvae subsist on 
 the juices of their victims. 
 
 16 ti j£ re inou h a d s t^ li^ the butcher-bird!" 
 
 This bird (Lanius excubitor, of Linnseus) is said to imitate the 
 notes of the smaller singing birds in order to attract them to 
 its haunts, and seize them the more readily. 
 
 17 " When, like the green-wing 1 djacamar, 
 Thou sangest sweetly all day long." 
 
 This splendid bird (Galbula viridus) is not unlike the kingfisher. 
 It is of solitary habits, resorting to the densest part of the 
 woods, and is said to have an agreeable note. 
 
SIR ABERDOUR; OR, THE 
 SCEPTIC. 
 
 Canto II. 
 
 [ID the enchanting scenes where whilom 
 play'd 
 The Faerie Queene and all the elfin 
 throng, 
 Where from each hillock, streamlet -bank, and 
 
 glade, 
 The sounds of fairy music rush'd along ; 
 In sweet Kilcolman, whence the glorious song 
 O f Spenser issued, where proud Raleigh trode, 
 Roams now a solitary man, — among 
 Those scenes his recollections found abode, — 
 And he anon did sigh and lisp the name of God. 
 
48 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 II. 
 Each flower-clad spot, and tree, and grassy mound, 
 And hawthorn hedge, and gentle rivulet, — 
 Associates in his wanderings o'er that ground 
 With her he loved, whom he can ne'er forget, — 
 Painted afresh lost happiness, as yet 
 The only happiness he ever knew. 
 Things had not alter'd, but to him seem'd set 
 Their sun of beauty, for the smiles that threw 
 A radiance o'er his heart made radiant all there too. 
 
 in. 
 
 He mourn'd, and with him nature seem'd to mourn, 
 Without such aid as Alexander gave, 
 When cities of their battlements were shorn 
 To grieve for loved Hephaestion in the grave ; 1 
 The wind blew chill, in sadness seem'd to wave 
 The shrubs and trees, the warblers all were mute, 
 The forward little red-breasts seem'd less brave, 
 Sheep bleated sad, kine grazed without dispute, 
 And none but doleful airs came from the shepherd's 
 flute. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 49 
 
 IV. 
 
 He sat him down on a cold ledge of rock, 
 And gazed upon the ground, nor heeded he 
 The busy ants beneath, procuring stock, 
 He dwelt in his own world of reverie. 
 Uplifted he his head unconsciously, 
 A glorious sunset full before him glow'd ; — 
 Soon he lapsed back into despondency, 
 That Nature everywhere such beauties show'd, 
 And none were near to share the blessings God 
 bestow'd. 
 
 v. 
 Who knows the storm-king in his mad career 
 Upon the yeasty ocean seems undone ; 
 Who moves in battle, o'er a bloody bier, 
 Feels but an unit, helpless, if alone ; 
 So with the sceptic on his airy throne, — 
 He, too, is brave, and spurns impending fate, 
 He, too, is pleased, when danger all is gone ; 
 But storm or war for him can but abate 
 Its fury, he is ever lone and desolate. 
 
50 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic, 
 
 VI. 
 
 'Twas now the hour of respite, — Maud was there, 
 Her image glanced from each remember'd spot, 
 He would have communed with his lady fair, 
 But she eluded him — had he forgot 
 He was an atheist, and she was not ? 
 The veil that blinded him he tore aside, 
 He would believe and find a happier lot. — 
 Ah ! he but dreamt ! where is his beauteous bride? 
 Again is he alone on misery's surging tide. 
 
 VII. 
 He rose to leave that melancholy place, 
 A sunless world, though once his paradise ; 
 And as he turn'd, he saw a woman's face — 
 A poor old woman's — and felt some surprise 
 That she regarded him with prying eyes. 
 The aged crone, one of that sisterhood 
 Who gather herbs at sunset and sunrise, 
 Portending evil, or affecting good, 
 Address'd our hero thus, as he there wondering 
 stood : — 
 
Sir Aberdour; or, the Sceptic. 51 
 
 Just such a youth, as fine and tall, 
 
 With bright blue eyes that smile on all, 
 
 My lady loved, — oh, how she loved ! 
 
 And he, the wretch, inconstant proved ! 
 
 She pined away, disconsolate, 
 
 Her love would never turn to hate : 
 
 I saw the angel as she left, 
 
 Of beauty, reason, all bereft ! 
 
 Oh, had the wretch stood by her then, 
 
 He must have died, or loved again ! 
 
 Now she is far beyond the sea, 
 
 And none is left so kind to me. 
 
 My gentle Sir, for her dear sake 
 
 If you will give me I will take ; 
 
 And I will work a potent charm 
 
 To keep you, day and night, from harm. 
 
 " Why stare ? — I'm no witch, 
 
 But a poor honest woman ; 
 You folk who are rich 
 
 Have ways quite uncommon ; 
 
52 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 The rich and the poor 
 
 Alike enter God's door, 
 
 I question much whether 
 
 They both go together ; 
 
 The rich have airs here, 
 
 And the poor will have there, 
 For the rich will be poor, and the poor will be rich. 
 Ay, stare ! I'm a witch, an old witch ! " 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Such tidings, in so strange a way convey'd, — 
 Maud dying like a crush'd decaying flower, 
 Into whatever spot transferr'd to fade, — 
 FilPd with astonishment poor Aberdour. 
 The hag unconsciously did wield a power, 
 Acknowledged by amazed looks, which she, 
 Like the bad genius of an evil hour, 
 Deem'd frowns, and changed her suppliant tone 
 to be 
 A self-confounding thing, like all iniquity ! 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic, 53 
 
 IX. 
 
 There was no caustic in her angry words, 
 But she had sore oppress'd him ere she tried ; 
 Whence could she get the knowledge she affords ? 
 It must be true ; — and he had been belied ! — 
 And Maud was ill, perhaps for him had died ! 
 Man's love is not like woman's, 'tis a fire 
 Fann'd by strong winds, fast wasting in its pride ; 
 In stillness, where no hurricanes conspire, 
 Glows woman's flame, a bonfire, or funereal pyre ! 
 
 x. 
 
 The meanest, poorest, have a dignity, 
 As in the woods are true-born gentlemen, 2 — 
 Oft so capricious if it wounded be 
 Atonement inadmissible is ; when 
 The hag felt anger'd she spoke boldly, then 
 Turn'd on her path, and nought the youth could say 
 Or give avail'd to make her speak again ; 
 She had concluded her sweet roundelay, 
 And moved self satisfied to bow to no one's sway. 
 
54 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XI. 
 Oh ! for a charm to work upon his frame, 
 And furnish him with Alpine eagle's wings, 
 That he might fly to Maud and bear all blame, 
 And listen whilst of peace and strife. she sings; 
 What joys the one, what woes the other brings ! 
 But love-sick youths are bound by common ties, 
 Just as great people are by vulgar things ; 
 A rich old uncle orders, ere he dies, 
 His English nephew to find Irish sympathies : 
 
 XII. 
 
 This meant to travel through the land, and well 
 Judge for himself if all that's said be true ; 
 If hapless Ireland be indeed a hell, 
 Or if from bigot minds it takes that hue ; 
 Its people found he hospitable, few 
 There were, no doubt, as there are everywhere, 
 Half savages, who like a portion grew 
 Of their own rugged hills, but none were there 
 Who had not heard of God, as there in England were. 
 
Si?' Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 55 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Unlike the country of the Samoyeds 
 Where darkness reigns, and all lies desolate/ 
 There shines the sun, and there are floweret beds, 
 Whilst Nature's efforts there to smile are great. 
 Ah I taunt it not with its impoverish'd state, 
 Ye who have made of it a battle ground 
 For hostile creeds and races ! How can hate 
 Beget affection ? Bondsmen are not found 
 So vile to kiss the hands that dash them to the ground. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The Pole, Hungarian, Irishman, and Jew, 
 Are members all of one great family, 
 Each may maintain his own peculiar view, 
 And nought disturb the others' harmony. 
 I would not have my brother coerce me, 
 Why should I him oppress, or, like the sons 
 Of OEdipus, should we desire to be 5 
 So bitter in our hatred that each shuns 
 The other living, dead apart must lie our bones ? 
 
56 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 xv. 
 
 The world is cruel, and so let it be ; 
 But it might feel for griefs it causes not ; 
 There was a tyrant once — he of Pherae 6 — 
 Who slew ten thousand with unpitying thought ; 
 Yet wept, as if with tender feelings fraught, 
 To hear an actor spout a woman's grief. 
 If persons have no modesty, they ought, 
 We think, affect a little ; to be brief, 
 Rash statements are received as dogmas of belief. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 As credit tourists, I would just as soon 
 Believe old Symmes, who swore the earth is hollow, 7 
 Or Bishop Wilkins, who was in the moon 8 
 And fondly hoped that many more would follow. 
 We have our oracles of great Apollo, 
 As had the ancients, but they differ thus : — 
 Unask'd our's ope their mouths, and say one swallow 
 Will make a summer — nought ambiguous, — 
 They boldly lie and make the world ridiculous. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 57 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The land was traversed, people high and low 
 Commingled with, the sympathies were found ; — 
 His uncle died, and Aberdour was now 
 So rich, that hosts of cares sprung up around, 
 Like fungi in o'er-fertile spots of ground: 
 Men claim'd acquaintance whom he never saw, 
 Ladies he slew that never felt a wound ; 
 His friends grown sages, each advised him; — Pshaw ! 
 What men should hate the world like those it holds 
 in awe ? 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 I will not here describe the scenes gone through 
 In comedy, farce, pantomime, where play'd 
 Dames, dowagers, misses, fools, and wise men too, — 
 A few, in fact, of every style and grade ; 
 Suffice it that our hero soon was made 
 Buoyant, like ship that hath no ballast in, 
 Sport for the waves whilst on the waves he stay'd, 
 Now running 'fore the wind, and now is seen 
 Toss'd by the lazy billows, sullen with chagrin. 
 H 
 
58 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Ambition had lain dormant, just as lies 
 In rattlesnake's closed mouth the poison fang ; 9 
 As when a victim nears the reptile's eyes, 
 The jaws divide, and while apart they hang, 
 Erected is the poison tube; — so sprang 
 Ambition when approach'd such wealth ! No more 
 Thought he of weeping Maud, no longer sang 
 His doleful ditty, — such affairs were o'er; 
 And he now felt a warmth he never knew before. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Here shall we leave him in the vain pursuit 
 Of something through ambition's devious ways, 
 Where every turn endangers one's repute, 
 And censure oft is met, but seldom praise ; 
 It may be sweet on glittering prize to gaze, 
 Obtain it, — think you it will satisfy ? 
 Upstarts another with still brighter rays, 
 And so on, objects cross ambition's eye 
 Like the illusions of a sick man's phantasy. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic 59 
 
 XXI. 
 
 We are in Malta, on the Pieta, 
 'Tis early evening and Calesses pass, 
 Mark if in one you see a fond mamma 
 Gazing upon a pale-cheek'd daughter's face, 
 Whence beauty smiled ere grief usurp'd its place. 
 Whom have we here ? — two ancient maids ; pass on, 
 Old ladies, ye may once have grieved, but trace 
 Of sorrow there is none, yet ye look lone, 
 Like thorny rose-bush when the summer time is gone. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Here comes a gaudy equipage, it rolls 
 Lightly, as if 'twas airy Joy it bore ; — 
 A courtly Englishman, whose frown controls, 
 No doubt he is some mighty governor : 
 On, Sir ; the vasty ocean licks the shore, 
 How foul soe'er it be, that limits it ; 
 So with thy power, a greater power before ; 
 That god-like air then is not requisite, 
 Unless it be assumed to awe for want of wit. 
 
60 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Who now ? — a loving wife and her sweet lord ; 
 The lord seems sour, he knows himself not why, 
 He will not deign to smile or speak a word, 
 Not through — oh, no — not through vulgarity ! 
 None could be more polite were strangers by, 
 No lady, save his wife, but would receive 
 Attention, none but she have cause to sigh 
 O'er a demeanour meant great things to achieve : 
 At home all beasts are gentle, only men aggrieve ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Comes rattling one, a perfumed son of Mars, 
 With hairy face but open countenance, 
 Beside him sits one of old England's tars, 
 Radiant with mirth, if not with elegance ; 
 I've seen this pair move in the mazy dance, 
 I've seen them on the battle field ; the foe, 
 Like beauty, hath a charm, and they advance 
 'Mid danger as 'mid pleasure, as they go 
 They smile, for Albion calls and they will die or do. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic, 6 1 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Lo ! comes a carriage like a mourning car, 
 So slow doth seem its pace, this must be she ; 
 Her fragile form rude motion cannot bear, 
 Without, within, she seeks tranquillity : 
 Prepare the blotted picture now to see 
 Of grace and beauty, once all loveliness ; 
 Oh, what a cruel Goth that man must be 
 Who could, for idle fame, neglect like this 
 The loveliest of the lady-birds of Paradise ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 How death-like pale that face, how shrunken too ; 
 How dull and fix'd those eyes that once did swim 
 In luminous moisture ; why has fled health's hue, 
 Faded its fulness, and its light grown dim ? 
 To feed the image in her mind of him ! — 
 An image she had worshipp'd till had grown 
 Its circling rays to form earth's diadem : 
 And nought was left her now save this, and none 
 Could comfort, for a breaking heart is always lone. 
 
62 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Ye youth, who love to lounge at Beauty's Fair, 
 And move triumphant through the glittering throng ; 
 Ye maids, who strive to look the brightest there, 
 Receiving homage as ye strut along ; 
 Pause, ere a dying, killing glance is flung : 
 For oft into such selfish crowds may stray 
 Some artless girl, or simple child of song, 
 Whose hearts, o'er-strange to all such amorous play, 
 Once wounded bleed, and bleeding, hasten to decay. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Return she njust, the evening is too fine, 
 Her fading form shrinks back within the shade, 
 So like those ships she sees in quarantine 
 Doth she regard herself, she seems afraid 
 Her sorrows to the world may be convey'd. 
 The poor, distracted mother, what can she 
 To stay that drooping flower ; her arm is made 
 To twine around — oh, if assuaged could be 
 Such grief, it would be by that mother's sympathy ! 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic, 63 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 u Maud, mourn not thus, 'tis weakness to despair, 
 Time hath a remedy for every ill ; 
 Birds spoil their plumage in the schoolboy's snare, 
 Trees lose their foliage at the whirlwind's will, 
 Grass trodden down is, and the purling rill 
 Is lapped up by parching dog-days, seeds 
 On ocean cast are vegetative still : 
 A few short years roll by, time supersedes 
 
 Alike the ill results of chance and men's misdeeds. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " This world is one of contrasts, light and shade, — 
 Deformity dwells next to beauty, pain 
 With pleasure mingles, and we see array'd 
 Evil with good ; calm seek we here in vain, 
 In Heaven alone tranquillity doth reign : 
 Yet, with a little wisdom, things may be 
 So govern'd here that we ought not complain, 
 The good corrects the bad, just as we see 
 
 Concords with discords intermix'd make harmony ! 
 
64 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " What is this Aberdour, my Maud, to thee ? 
 A rich and gifted but a faithless one ; 
 His wealth is dross, his talent vanity, 
 Can wealth and talent serve to fill the throne 
 Which love descends from ? Thou art less alone 
 As a poor maiden in a wilderness, 
 Than as a bride to whom neglect is shown, — 
 For then the world doth witness thy distress, 
 
 And tongues there be as many to revile as bless. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " He is as godless as he is untrue, 
 
 'Tis said he is a sceptic ; now, mark well, 
 
 Those unbelievers do as bigots do, — 
 
 Alike intolerant they sentinel 
 
 The bigots Heaven, the unbelievers Hell ; — 
 
 They hate where they love not, and they but love 
 
 Those that keep watch with them. Oh, who can 
 
 tell 
 But that this demon's influence might move, — 
 
 No, let me die — both die, ere thou apostate prove ! " 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 65 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 She ceased, and kiss'd her daughter's burning brow, 
 A moment since that brow was icy cold, 
 What wrought the quick transition ? — rudely now 
 The chord was struck her lover touch'd of old. 
 His was a daring spirit she was told, — 
 At length they knew what she so long had known ; 
 Therein her glory lay, to have controll'd 
 That haughty mind, — therein she was undone : 
 He own'd her influence once, might it not linger on. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 It was this hope that kept her still on earth, 
 It is this hope which makes her sensitive 
 When aught is said detracting from his worth ; 
 She long'd to die and yet she strove to live. 
 She cannot well forget, can she forgive ? 
 Go ask the miser who has lost his hoard 
 If he who will restore it can aggrieve : 
 She knew no joy save what he could afford, 
 No grief save the sad echo of his parting word. 
 
 i 
 
66 Sir Aber dour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 She lived for him, her mother lived for her, 
 That mother felt like Rhea when in Crete 
 She close conceal'd her infant Jupiter, — 
 The tyrant lover knew not their retreat, 
 He must not know, he never shall repeat 
 The false assurance that he loves her child ; 
 But should he come she'll spurn him from her feet ; 
 Maud's peerless form he had already spoil'd, 
 Her mind belongs to Heaven, — that shall not be de- 
 filed. 
 
 XXX VI. 
 
 Ah ! doting mother, thou art vain and proud, 
 'Tis true thy Maud should be a prince's bride ; 
 But Aberdour is not one of a crowd, — 
 Though he has err'd, and has high Heaven defied, 
 He is not false as you too oft implied. 
 You know him not, thy Maud alone but knows : 
 How comes it you and she do not confide ? 
 You hear her sobs, you see her painful throes ; 
 If Aberdour were false you would not witness those. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic, 67 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Maud crowns her lover with love's brightest rays, 
 You picture him the vilest of the vile, 
 When you are loudest in the youth's dispraise 
 Can you not mark her unbelieving smile : 
 'Tis not the way to make her heart recoil 
 By painting him as he, she knows, is not ; 
 He is unlike your " Quintessence of guile : " 
 He has indeed one error, 'tis a blot 
 That time will yet efface, when all will be forgot. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 You are a mother and you feel as one, 
 Divest yourself of such solicitude 
 As appertains to your maternal throne, 
 And think with Maud — just as a sister would, 
 Talk as you think, and vary with her mood ; 
 Be as the guide that knows each winding path, 
 The goal is fix'd, make you the journey good : 
 See with her eyes, — be blinded not by wrath, 
 And you will have the uncomplaining heart she hath ! 
 
68 Sir Aherdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 If you repose in her, she will in you, 
 And you may learn how vain has been your care ; 
 Though Aberdour and Maud have long been two, 
 They both are yet within a magic snare, 
 And each can see the other linger there ; 
 Ere you had stepp'd upon the waters he — 
 That lover — sniff 'd this Island's perfumed air: 
 Descend into the earth, Maud he will see, 
 Mount in the atmosphere, there Aberdour will be. 
 
 XL. 
 
 When lovers sleep their souls take rapid flight, 
 And in aerial vesture clad 10 descend 
 Amid the darkness in a streak of light, 
 To hover o'er the loved one, — there attend 
 Till they with morn's effulgence softly blend : 
 What converse sweet hold lovers in their dreams ! 
 Their glorious fancies new enjoyment lend 
 Till all around with sunny gladness beams, 
 And earth to them is really what it only seems ! 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 69 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Such lovers once were ours, such dreams had they, 
 Till plunged estrangement like a fiend between 
 And marr'd the prospect of love's holiday ; 
 But though a shadow dwells upon the scene, 
 Still Aberdour is king and Maud is queen. 
 They often look upon their clouded sky 
 And think how lovely once that sky had been, 
 And wonder if this darkness will go by, — 
 If heaven again will smile and look serenity. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 The carriage stopp'd, they had at length arrived 
 Before a villa, their secluded home ; 
 Whose is that form, now through an arbour dived ? 
 The form of her the first to see them come, — 
 The loved of all, half idolised of some, — 
 Maud's favourite sister, gentle Rosalie : 
 Just what a sun-dial is without a gnome 
 Without that guiding sister Maud would be, 
 None understand her, can interpret her but she. 
 
70 Sir Aber dour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Here now she comes like radiant morn to chase 
 Night's dew-drops from her sister's pensive brow, 
 Mark how Maud brightens as she feels th' embrace ; 
 Thanks, Rosalie, she seems much better now. 
 Descend, dear Maud, thy Rosalie knows how 
 Thy tottering frame should be supported. See, 
 Her step is firm, her form but seems to bow ; 
 Fresh streams of life flow in from Rosalie ; 
 Ah, sigh, fond mother, sigh ! well may you envious be ! 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 There grew an Indian fig-tree near, beneath 
 Whose leafy canopy they loved to sit 11 
 Such times as Maud her secrets chose to breathe : 
 No spot for lover's sighs could be more fit, — 
 A thymy bank with wild flowers strew'd — now lit 
 With sunshine, lay before, around were trees 
 Carob and orange through whose branches flit 
 The airy choristers, and midst of these 
 The gentlest zephyr blew — the softest perfumed 
 breeze. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic, 71 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Thither the sisters moved, and Maud sat down 
 Upon a cushion Rosalie had brought, — 
 A silken cushion, stuff 'd with eider-down, 
 Which Rosalie had made, whereon she wrought 
 Maud's name, and " Maud's " 'to call it all had 
 
 taught, — 
 And by her side upon the grassy ground 
 Sat Rosalie. Maud's heart was full ; she caught 
 Her sister for support, and weeping found 
 The solace tears afford when bleeds anew a wound. 
 
 XL VI. 
 
 Maud's hand was grasping Rosalie's, and hers 
 Was pressing Maud's, and over both did run 
 Two mingling currents — sent as messengers 
 From heaving hearts that felt as if but one. 
 Said Rosalie " What can mamma have done !" — 
 Too well she knew the language of those eyes, 
 Though tears were absent, speaking sighs were 
 
 none; 
 When she beheld her mother and Maud rise 
 She felt awake at once her sleeping sympathies. 
 
72 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XL VII. 
 
 'Twas she led Maud — Maud not unwilling was, — 
 To this their haunt of secrecy, that here 
 She might be told what did and did not pass, 
 And counsel give whilst shedding tear for tear. 
 " What can mamma have done ! Alas ! I fear 
 She has again been wronging Aberdour : 
 'Tis only, Maud, because thou art so dear ; 
 Mamma so loves you — ay, had she the power 
 To Heaven with you she'd fly, and leave us all, this 
 hour!" 
 
 XL VIII. 
 
 Maud tried to speak, and tears gush'd forth anew ; 
 She tried to shut those floodgates of her heart, 
 Again essay'd to speak, but nought would do ; 
 She made a movement as if to depart, — 
 Upsprung her Rosalie, and with fond art 
 So gently lifted her she did not fall ; 
 Slowly they moved about that wild flowers' mart ; 
 They gazed upon the flowers, and seem'd in all 
 Like weeping girls at an Adonis Festival ! 12 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 73 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 How slowly seconds sometimes will advance : 
 At length, when Rosalie had waited long, 
 Maud language found with fitful utterance ; 
 She startled Rosalie with some fresh wrong, 
 That form'd a sad new burden to her song. 
 Who told their mother Aberdour did "doubt?" 
 Not Maud — not Rosalie. — They'll hear her gong 
 With fury struck, now she has found this out : 
 Must they yield Aberdour, she'll put them all to rout? 
 
 L. 
 
 They dry their tears, they have no time to weep, 
 
 An enemy is in their stronghold — Ha ! 
 
 Maud thought she heard a rustling sound from 
 
 sweep 
 Of silken dress ! — that terrible mamma 
 Seem'd everywhere, in all she heard or saw ! 
 She look'd at Rosalie to find her gaze 
 Reflected back ; they trembled both with awe, 
 And fear'd Heaven's anger would pursue their ways, 
 For never will they join in Aberdour's dispraise. 
 
 K 
 
74 Sir Aber dour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Poor blighted Maud ! poor suffering Rosalie ! 
 They found no solace, they could look for none ; 
 Oppress'd by care, bow'd down with misery, 
 They knew not where to turn ; and one by one 
 The minutes pass'd, till a whole hour had gone. 
 Still linger'd they, to grief abandon'd quite ; 
 At length their privacy was trespass'd on — 
 A message from their mother ! In affright 
 The timid girls look'd round — could they have heard 
 aright ? 
 
 LI I. 
 
 human love, that claims despotic power, 
 Too oft repaying homage with a smile ; 
 O love of sister, ruling for the hour, 
 Whose sun-lit glory seldom doth beguile ; 
 O love divine, Religion, which doth aisle 
 Within thy bosom all that's good for all, 
 Regard thy votaries, aid them the while 
 They hearken to their angry mother's call, 
 And in that awe-inspiring presence stand or fall. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 75 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Their feet are on the threshold, — ne'er before 
 Did they so tremble : Rosalie goes first ; 
 Another effort, and they reach her door, — 
 Oh ! that 'twere dark ! the daylight seems accurst ! 
 They enter with a rush to face the worst, 
 Maud sinks upon a sofa, by her side 
 Is Rosalie : they strive as if to burst 
 The bonds of life, to fly away and hide ; — 
 Ye loves we have invoked, oh ! stay this sweeping 
 tide! 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Their mother started from a reverie, 
 And softly now did she approach the pair, 
 She kiss'd Maud's cheek, the cheek of Rosalie, 
 Her tone is mild, most humble is her air, — 
 She seems the culprit, they the judges there. 
 Their eyes have met, — the mother's fill with tears, 
 She kisses Maud again, and breathes a prayer 
 That she might be as Rosalie appears, 
 A sister confidante, alike in all but years ! 
 
76 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 lv. 
 Maud weeps, and too weeps Rosalie, whilst each 
 Clings to a mother now no longer fear'd ; 
 They fail'd to speak, they had no power of speech 
 To thank and bless, instead those tears appear'd — 
 The tears of grateful love. How they revered 
 That kind good mother ! She too did employ 
 Her thoughts of gratitude ; and each felt cheer'd : 
 They were at peace with all, nought could annoy, 
 And angels smiled from heaven upon their new-found 
 
NOTES TO CANTO II. 
 
 1 " When cities of their battlements were shorn 
 To grieve for loved Hephcestion in the grave." 
 
 LUTARCH relates that Alexander, upon the 
 death of Hephsestion, caused not only the manes 
 of the horses and mules to be shorn, but had 
 the battlements of the walls taken down, that 
 the very cities might seem to mourn, by losing their orna- 
 ments." — Life of Pelopidas. 
 
 Hephaestion loved Alexander, and Craterus the king. How 
 different the feelings inspired by affection to the person and 
 affection to the throne. 
 
 2 " The meanest, poorest have a dignity 
 
 As in the woods are true-horn gentlemen." 
 
 Captain, now Rear- Admiral, the Hon. Sir Henry Keppel, in 
 his " Expedition to Borneo," mentions having met a Dyak (who 
 had scarcely ever seen a European before) whose manners 
 
78 Notes. 
 
 were so easy and polite, that he regarded hiin as " the most- 
 perfect gentleman he had ever met." 
 
 The very humblest of the Chinese are essentially polite and 
 courteous, without being indebted to their vaunted civilization. 
 
 3 " Its people found he hospitable . . . 
 
 but none were there 
 
 Who had not heard of God, as there in England were." 
 
 I desire to institute no invidious comparison between the so- 
 cial positions occupied by the respective lower orders of the 
 English and Irish, but simply state a fact which Englishmen 
 are apt to forget, when they indulge in the reckless abuse of 
 their Irish fellow-subjects. Be the religion of the Irish right 
 or wrong, it reaches all and teaches the love of God. How 
 many are there to be found in the mining districts of England, 
 and in London itself, to whom the attributes of the Deity, if 
 mentioned, would be as incomprehensible as a Greek chorus, 
 and to whom even the name of the Sovereign is as unknown as 
 that of the Shah of Persia, or the Tycoon of Japan. 
 
 4 " Unlike the country of the Samoyeds, 
 Where darkness reigns and lies desolate." 
 
 The district beyond the river Mezen, to the east of Archangel, 
 extending to the Straits of Wezgetz far within the polar circle, 
 is described as the " Region of darkness." 
 
Notes. 79 
 
 5 "Or like the sons 
 
 Of (Edipus should we desire to be." 
 
 It is fabled that Eteocles and Polynices, sons of (Edipus and 
 Jocasta, hated each other whilst living, and that, after death, 
 the fire which consumed their bodies on the same funereal pile 
 refused to unite, and divided itself into two distinct flames. 
 
 6 " There was a tyrant once — he of Phera." 
 
 Alexander the Pheraean, consecrated the spear with which he 
 slew his uncle, and having crowned it with garlands offered 
 sacrifice to it, as to a god. He pitilessly put to death a great 
 number of his people, yet, upon seeing a tragedian act the 
 Troades of Euripides, he hastily left the theatre, that he might 
 not be seen to weep at the sufferings of Hecuba and Andro- 
 mache. — Plutarch's Life of Pelopidas. 
 
 7 " As credit tourists — I would just as soon 
 
 Believe old Symmes, who swore the earth is hollow." 
 
 " Near the North Pole, at 82° lat." says Humboldt, " whence 
 the polar light emanates, was an enormous opening through 
 which a descent might be made into the hollow sphere, and 
 Sir H. Davy and myself were even publicly and frequently 
 invited by Captain Symmes to enter upon this subterranean 
 expedition." 
 
80 Notes. 
 
 8 " Or Bishop Wilkins who was in the moon''' 
 
 This gentleman, one of the early fellows of the Royal Society, 
 maintained that the moon was a habitable world, and actually 
 proposed schemes for flying thither. I wonder if he issued 
 return tickets ? 
 
 9 " Ambition had lain dormant, just as lies 
 
 In rattlesnake's closed mouth the poison fang" 
 
 I suppose most persons are acquainted with the peculiarity of 
 construction in the poison fangs of reptiles. They are hollow, 
 and communicate with the poison-gland which is situated at 
 the upper part of the head ; when the reptile is at rest and the 
 mouth closed, they lie horizontally, but when a victim is near 
 and the mouth opens to seize its prey, the fangs become erected 
 by the very effort required to disclose them, and by this self- 
 same effort the poison-sac is pressed and the poison made to 
 flow. The orifice in the fang is not at the point but near it, in 
 order that the resistance offered by the opposing substance 
 might not impede the emission of the fluid. 
 
 10 " When lovers sleep their souls take rapid flight 
 And in aerial vesture clad descend." 
 
 The notion respecting the " aerial vesture " of the soul was 
 
Notes. 81 
 
 first entertained by Origen. It was widely diffused for some 
 centuries, and had not become altogether exploded in the time 
 of Dante, for he alludes to it in the " Purgatorio." 
 
 11 " There grew an Indian Jig -tree near, beneath 
 Whose leafy canopy they loved to sit." 
 
 The Indian fig-tree sometimes forms a leafy canopy, similar to 
 a tent, supported by various pillars. 
 
 12 " They gazed upon the flowers, and seenCd in all 
 Like weeping girls at an Adonis Festival." 
 
 The festivals of Adonis were held in the Adonis gardens 
 (Krjiroi 'A^wvtBoc) which were intended to represent the gar- 
 den wherein Aphrodite met Adonis — the symbol of the 
 quickly fading bloom of youth. They were seasons of lamen- 
 tation for women. 
 
CMSWICK PRESS : — PRINTED BY WHITTINGHAM AND WILKINS, 
 TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. 
 
SIR ABERDOUR; OR, THE 
 SCEPTIC. 
 
 ^Ssy#2^ 
 
SIR ABERDOUR; 
 
 OR, THE SCEPTIC. 
 
 A EOMAUNT. 
 
 BY 
 
 WALTER P. J. PURCELL, Esq. 
 
 OF THE INNER TEMPLE. 
 
 CANTOS III. AND IV. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 BASIL MONTAGU PICKERING, 
 
 196, PICCADILLY. 
 
 1863. 
 
SIR ABERDOUR; OR THE 
 SCEPTIC. 
 
 Canto III. 
 
 i. 
 
 PPROACH the hallo w'd site 
 whereon once stood 
 The hall of ancient royalty, 1 where 
 now, 
 
 In modern gorgeousness array'd, is view'd 
 The superstructure Barry raised ; we bow 
 Abash'd before the memories that here grow 
 Of glories past, which time doth e'er renew, — 
 Of mighty conflicts stamp'd on England's brow ; 
 How poor and insignificant seem you 
 Upon this sacred spot where Albion's genius grew ! 
 M 
 
84 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 II. 
 
 Here sainted Edward died ; here Harold sped ; 2 
 Here came triumphant William from the field, 
 Where Saxon might and chivalry lay dead ; 
 Here Magna Charta once again was seal'd ; 3 
 Here steep'd in blood was England's snow-white 
 
 shield 
 When martyr'd Charles, to expiate no crime 
 Of his, but of his age, was forced to yield, 
 And heard pronounced his doom, — he stood sublime 
 That monarch there, and threw a glory o'er the time ! 
 
 in. 
 
 What pageantries of state, — the fleeting shows 
 Of human grandeur, were enacted here ; 
 What great events did councils here disclose, — 
 A conqueror check'd upon his mad career, 
 A nation saved, a distant race brought near. 
 O'ershadow'd by the mighty dead this spot, 
 Endear'd to genius, should to all be dear; 
 Here is the cradle of the law ; forgot 
 Be records of the past where liberty is not ! 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic, 85 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thrice lambent flames triumphant rose high o'er 
 The parching fabrics of art's early stage, 4 
 Look, the devouring element no more 
 Can level with the plain, — it may engage, 
 But modern art, inviting, scorns its rage ; 
 Consummate skill hath form'd, yet structure frail, 
 Erostratus defying but not age, 
 The outward shell is mould'ring fast, — the veil 
 Time rends, and by-and-by will gilded fanes assail. 
 
 The House has met, — a grand debate to-night, 
 Great is the throng of members, seated are 
 The chiefs of party, longing for their fight, 
 While scintillating moves some lesser star ; 
 On sweep the clashing pioneers of war 
 With love and hatred fraught, great patriots all, 
 Forgetting oft their voices reach afar, 
 Talk they as though at some low festival, 
 And rancour is begot where words of peace should fall. 
 
86 Sir Aberdour; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Majestic stride the chiefs, — some men aver 
 The senate now boasts no grand intellect ; 
 Illustrious Pitt, the heaven-born minister, 
 Great iterating Fox whom few respect, 
 Burke, child of fancy, Sheridan, of neglect, 
 Windham and Canning, all are shadow'd forth, — 
 True, it may be with more or less defect, 
 But lack of glitter is supplied by worth ; 
 The statesmen of to-day are honest from their birth. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Majestic stride the chiefs ; not rude are they, 
 But combat like the gentle knights of song ; 
 Full many a thrust in earnest or in play 
 They give, but never in defence of wrong, 
 Truth is their weapon and their foe the strong. 
 Will England trust to other men than such 
 To guide her destinies ? no, let the throng 
 Proclaim their heroes, nature here is much, — 
 Eagles 'tis known will starve ere carrion they will 
 touch. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 87 
 
 VIII. 
 
 As in the days of chivalry some knight 
 Unknown joins in the tournament, in quest 
 Of glory, so in this encounter bright 
 Appear'd a young aspirant, in whose breast 
 Lived the exciting demon of unrest. 
 His was a splendid effort ; high the meed 
 There offer'd, in admiring looks confest ; 
 And when applause had died away, in need 
 Seem'd he of something more, — a gaze whereon to 
 feed, 
 
 IX. 
 
 A loving gaze, for though around him beam'd 
 A sunny gladness, 'twas as sunshine plays 
 Upon the waters, cold beneath all seem'd. 
 What hollow mockery these sounds of praise ! 
 And this is glory ! these the halcyon days 
 Sir Aberdour imagined, whence should spring 
 The solace — fond allusion ! — that repays 
 For blighted love ! Ah, fool'd imagining ! 
 Contentment is not found where soars Ambition's wing. 
 
88 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 x. 
 
 Fastidious swains and maidens are at first, 
 Till cools their ardour and they human grow, 
 And fondly now are men and women nursed 
 Who were so hideous a few years ago ; 
 The founts of happiness keep closing so 
 The spring, of late pass'd by, is sought again ; 
 'Tis so with Aberdour, no peace will flow 
 From source political, strives he in vain ; — 
 And back to Maud he flies, disdaining not her reign. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But on the way his vanity assumes 
 Immense proportions, and he is without 
 That species of true knowledge which illumes 
 The darkest path, dispelling every doubt. 
 Well may his fancy calmer reason flout ; 
 Is he repentant ? no, he is subdued ; 
 Though no believer, can he seem devout ? — 
 A slave to form ? — a mimer of the brood, 
 Which desecrates the earth and marks his solitude ? 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 89 
 
 XII. 
 
 No, he can seem no other than he is, 
 And he can be no other than he seems, 
 Contemner of all creeds and systems, his 
 Belief a doubt — a sweeping doubt. The schemes 
 Of men are all religions, and the dreams 
 Of Science' maddest sons all systems are ; 
 That prince was wise whose fiat disesteems 
 Alike the self-denying minister, 
 And juggling priest of Fc — himself his only care. 5 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Thus thought Sir Aberdour, and he delay'd, 
 And, dallying, subsided soon his hope ; 
 In awe of Maud and of himself afraid, 
 This child of impulse better loved to mope 
 Throughout the world, far better than to cope 
 With rough realities. And now once more 
 Upon his view a scene began to ope — 
 A scene of quiet on a distant shore, 
 Unlike the one he quits, where clamour men for pow'r. 
 
90 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Quick fitted-out was a swift barque, and soon 
 Upon the heaving ocean, free to roam, 
 Untrammell'd moved Philosophy's buffoon, — 
 Though Learning's favourite, so had he become ; 
 He sought a home, abandon'd of his home, 
 Among basaltic mountains, where is shed 
 Throughout the year a fragrant vernal bloom,— 
 "Where Nature smiles and Nature looks as dead, 6 
 And Homer's Atlas rears its venerable head. 7 
 
 xv. 
 
 Time pass'd, and one by one familiar stars 
 Were blotted from the sky, whilst others shone 
 Instead with planetary light as Mars, — 
 Not sparkling like the stars we look upon. 8 
 Full twenty tedious days had come and gone 
 When Teneriffe appear'd, the same proud peak 
 Three thousand years ago to Tyrian known, 
 Abruptly rising now as then, — a speck 
 On ocean doth remain, whilst man becomes a wreck ! 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 91 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Hail, TenerifFe, and f Islands of the Blest,' 
 Region of darkness and of light ! thy fame 
 Begun with learning, 9 and was more caress'd 
 Till Fable left thee nothing save thy name. 
 I feel as felt the Nursian in his shame, 
 Who sigh'd for peace within thy tranquil shade, 10 
 And though less guilty have not less to blame 
 A world, where cursed is he who once has stray'd 
 From off the beaten paths his ancestors have made. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " I come not as the Lusitanian came, 
 To subjugate, convert, and then destroy; 11 
 I have no mission, am without an aim, 
 And have no other wish than to employ 
 Thoughts irrepressible, which yield no joy. 
 I am alone and like a castaway 
 Upon the ocean, but know no decoy 
 Wherewith to lure my courage for a day ; 
 Yet will I struggle on and fall na gentle prey. 
 
 N 
 
92 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " What is man's origin ? Look at the scale 
 Of being, graduated, and avow 
 Lamarck did promulgate no idle tale, — 
 That once proud man was what the ape is now. 12 
 'Tis human policy declareth how 
 Man hath an origin that is not proved ; 
 Innate ideas are impress'd to show 
 A God exists, but they are soon removed 
 When they affirm an ape can love and be beloved. 1 ' 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " In the grand e struggle for existence' man 
 Obeys, like other animals, 'tis said, 
 The law, that with the dawn of life began, 
 Of ' natural selection ;' 14 have not fled 
 Before the savage, as have vanished 
 Before the Roman, races grown too old ? 
 Cave of Ataruipe, give up thy dead ; 
 Those palm-leaf shrouds a story doth unfold, 15 
 That will be told again as oft before 'twas told. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 93 
 
 xx. 
 
 u To sleep is to have no desire, in this 
 Are all men equal and alike content ; 
 To die is to be happy, such is bliss, 
 And not what silly rhapsodists invent ; 
 Oblivion of the past is what is meant 
 By a contented state ; enjoyment means 
 A blinding light but for an instant sent, — 
 Obscuring, as obscure the solar beams 
 Where all around disgusts and most unsightly seems. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " What I can comprehend I can believe, — 
 No more, 16 else reason is of no avail ; 
 The mind doth of material things conceive, 
 Herein its limit lies ; material 
 Are the ideas it abstracts and frail — 
 And only such — from matter : I must, then, 
 If I am to make use of reason, fail 
 To know that God — a spirit, beyond our ken,- 
 Not Nature, but the perfect God of faulty men. 
 
94 Sir Aberdour; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " There is an unity in the design 
 Of this vast universe ; 17 it proves no more 
 Than that exists a Being half-divine, 
 And capable of using just such pow'r. 
 Men of adverse opinions o'er and o'er 
 Have shown themselves agreeable to agree, 
 That from the works of Nature learned lore 
 Cannot make manifest the Deity : — 
 Stand forth, Socinus, Ellis, Hutchinson, Magee. 18 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " If not from Nature, whence obtain the proof 
 That an eternal Being doth exist — 
 Supreme, incomprehensible, aloof 
 From matter yet pervading it ? Persist 
 The churchmen that He is, and still the gist 
 Of their discourse is that He is ; they show 
 Reveal'd religion, and would fain enlist 
 Our sympathies ; but I will not allow 
 For proof what needs a proof— -reveal'd religions do;- 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 95 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " I say religions, for we've more than one. 
 The Moslem, Christian, Buddhist, Brahmin,— all. 
 Of equal credit, preach the truth or none ; 
 They contradict each other, a cabal 
 Each seems, their teachings all equivocal. 
 And 'tis to one of these poor hood-wink'd man 
 Must trust to prove the supernatural. 
 Why not believe in Budh ? I once began 
 To think 'twas not so bad to be Mohammedan ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 (i I've seen the c Holy Foot ' on ' Adam's Peak,' 
 Where Adam fell, like Vulcan, hurl'd by Jove, — 
 The Tomb of Adam, or, as others speak, 
 Of Buddha, 19 \otaries of each there move, 
 And Buddha's Adam's teeth prove and disprove ; 
 And o'er i the pearl grounds' in this region fair, 
 I've seen the Christian cast his eyes above, 
 And — profanation ! — breathe a charm or pray'r 20 
 To scare away the sharks that will assemble there. 
 
96 Sir Aberdour; or, the Sceptic, 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Let me look elsewhere, it is still the same ; 
 A hundred altars ever rise in view, 
 A thousand voices e'er aloud proclaim 
 1 Ours is the great Elohi, we the few 
 Loved by this God of gods, amen, sadoo.' 21 
 Credulity of man, alike below, 
 Above plain reason ; 'tis the same to you 
 Before a godhead's majesty to go, 
 Or Christian's aspen-tree, 22 — like Buddhist's sacred 
 bo." 23 
 
 XXVI I. 
 
 So coursed his thoughts when Aberdour beheld 
 His resting-place, and his philosophy — 
 He deem'd himself now of the gray-hair'd eld — 
 Was Eleatic or about to be ; 24 
 Time, space, and change were mere illusions ; he 
 Felt that he was, but need not be. As none 
 Can comprehend, much less the mystery 
 Of life or death explain, ought he alone 
 Exclusive knowledge claim, where nothing can be 
 shown ? 
 
Sir Aberdour; or, the Sceptic. 97 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Again he ask'd himself, ought he alone 
 Exclusive knowledge claim ? and once again 
 He answer'd, No ; and feeling less undone 
 Than threaten'd van'ty ceased he to complain. 
 He closed external Nature's broad domain 
 And dwelt upon the Pow'r which men adore — 
 Almighty influence, felt, unseen, to reign 
 For e'er as It had reign'd, — no less, no more. 
 'Twas with this weight of thought he touch'd the 
 welcome shore. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Upon sweet Orotava's vine-clad slopes, 
 Beyond Matanza and Yittoria, — 25 names 
 Expressive of the cruel Spaniard's hopes,- — 
 Pitch'd Aberdour his camp. No thought inflames 
 Beside that crater whose sad presence tames, 
 As there it yawns, all drear and desolate, 
 Amidst a country which precedence claims 
 Of earth's most favour'd spots. To dissipate 
 A sceptic's doubts what place could be more adequate ! 
 
98 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 He strays 'mong orange and banana groves, 
 O'er arborescent heaths and vine-clad hills ; 
 Or towards the Rambleta and Piton moves, 26 
 And so his duty for the day fulfils. 
 Night comes and brings reflection, and the ills 
 So long train-bearers, one by one retire ; 
 Dwells he with the Invisible. He stills 
 No longer conscience, and at length desire 
 To know the truth, health, quiet, Heav'n's good grace, 
 inspire. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Oh, what a heap of prejudice and pride, 
 Snake-like, and slow thrown off, around him lay, 
 As he communing sat one evening tide, 
 Ere yet three fleeting months had pass'd away ! 
 St. Julian had come with him — not to stay, 
 But as he loved to travel and had found 
 A worthy patron whom he liked to obey ; 
 And having long enough delay 'd was bound 
 To England now ; — he had this evening come around 
 
Sir Aber dour ; or, the Sceptic. 99 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 To bid adieu, to press the friendly hand 
 That lifted him when he had fall'n, and leave 
 Behind ten thousand blessings in that land 
 Of not inglorious exile. This same eve 
 St. John his fiery tribute did receive ; 27 
 From the volcano stream'd a hundred lights, 
 And the glad shepherds unrestrain'd did give 
 Their voices to loud merriment, — No sights 
 Like those of harmless joy to soften Timonites. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Our hero and the Count stood in extremes, — 
 One thought too much, the other not at all, 
 Dwelt Aberdour in Fancy's land of dreams, 
 St. Julian lived on earth, too practical ; 
 Both disregarded man, the Count did fall 
 Beneath, high soar'd Sir Aberdour above ; 
 So kings and beggars meet beyond the pale 
 Of our society, alike they move 
 In disregard of rule, unsway'd by fear or love. 
 
 o 
 
100 Sir Aberdour; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 
 St. Julian was a Romanist in name, 
 Professing little and believing nought, 
 Because he knew some others were the same 
 He cared not one iota to be taught ; 
 Moreover, 'twas a fashion he had caught, 
 And it, no doubt, might add to his repute. — 
 They sat together musing, each seem'd fraught 
 With feeling ; but they could not long stay mute 
 Whilst blaze the fires and shouts of joy their ears 
 salute. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Spoke Aberdour, at first in playful mood: — 
 " How happy are those shepherds ! it would seem 
 'Tis true philosophy, least understood, 
 To live content : no matter how those dream, 
 What we deem error is the truth to them. 
 Why should we disabuse them, if unrest 
 Result from our endeavours ? ' Truth esteem,' 
 Is your reply. But who has got the test 
 For truth, unalterable truth, the truth truth confess'd ? 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 101 
 
 xxxvi. 
 
 * Tis easy to mark error but not truth ; 
 The sun is absent, so a clown can tell, 
 But can the clown say where ? I know, forsooth, 
 That I know nothing, — am an infidel, 
 Because I nothing know and would dispel 
 The cloud of error close surrounding me. 
 Let those good people keep their heaven and hell, 
 The images improve not injure ; we, 
 While they are pleased, ought not destroy their 
 phantasy. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " And after all, may not with truth accord 
 Their main belief? They think the Influence, 
 Essence, or God — whatever be the word, — 
 Which form'd all things must be Omnipotence, 
 And which all things preserves, Benevolence. 
 Omnipotent Benevolence I love, 
 Though unintelligible to my sense ; 
 And if to you I nothing else can prove, 
 This can I. Ask yourself ; 'tis with your nature wove. 
 
102 Sir Aberdour; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 " Here now breaks in a light ! St. Julian, list, 
 I feel as though I had been blind from birth, 
 And suddenly now rolls away the mist, 
 Leaving to me the gaze of the full earth. 
 If He — this God be spirit, what is the worth 
 Of argument, for we deduce therefrom 
 Our immaterial souls, Heav'n, and so forth. 
 Give ear, — I cannot send you back to Kome, 
 But I can make grave doubts cease to be troublesome. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 St. Julian listen'd, having nought to say, 
 Whilst Aberdour in his impassion'd tone 
 Continued : — " Pantheism doth claim the day, 
 Asserting that the world and God are one 
 By unity of substance. 28 How is shown 
 In union of conditions opposite 
 What is of God, what of the world alone, — 
 God represents the perfect, infinite, 
 The world the finite and imperfect ? I submit 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 103 
 
 XL. 
 
 " They must insist on Divine plenitude 29 
 When vanishes the phantom of the world, 
 And God remains alone ; or must be view'd 
 The world as a reality, when hurl'd 
 Is God from his high throne, reduced and twirl'd 
 To an abstraction. They would comprehend 
 All things, ev'n Divine nature have unfurl'd, 
 And so know nothing ; we do not pretend 
 To search the Inscrutable, so more know in the end. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 " That God exists and is a spirit I feel, 
 For I can recognize Infinity. 30 
 Infinity of time and space reveal 
 A subject, cause, that Infinite must be. 31 
 Infinity implies perfection : He, 
 This Being all perfection, cannot dwell 
 In senseless matter ; how can it be free 
 To dwell in Him ? Let those who will rebel 
 I must believe, and scorn to be an infidel. 
 
104 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 " There is a God who immaterial is ; 
 If immaterial why should there exist 
 Nought else than bodies ? None can answer this. 
 All bodies have extent, so must consist 
 The substance Thought of the materialist. 
 Extent is indispensable to thought ? 
 Not so, God is. True, no anatomist 
 Has ever found a soul ; but who has sought 
 And found a grief or joy ? or a reflection caught ? 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 " As matter is inert, and cannot move 
 Except by impulse from extraneous cause, 
 That feeling which incites to hate or love, 
 Is not of matter, if beyond its laws. 
 Death is but dissolution ; where withdraws 
 The soul ? As it is indivisible 
 It is indissoluble, and, the gauze 
 Of matter once removed, it hastes to dwell 
 Beyond that mystic bourne, of which not man can tell. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 1 05 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " He who created can, if He so will, 
 Annihilate ; but why should cease to be, 
 Ere yet its destiny it could fulfil, 
 My soul, when from its prison-house set free ? 
 I feel within that which assures to me 
 A life hereafter ; whence arises this ? 
 Am I deceived by a just Deity ? 
 Am I deluded by self-artifice ? 
 God guides and not misleads, and I shall cross th' 
 abyss. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 si This carnal shroud, corruptible and gross, 
 Which claims such care, and we so fondly tend, 
 Is but a cloudy mass embracing close 
 The sun of life which through its rays doth send ; 
 'Tis an encumbrance that the soul would rend ; 
 It much receives, and nothing can bestow. 
 What do the senses ? Simply they suspend 
 The soul's high powers. And what doth language 
 do? 
 The same in less degree, though lava-like it flow. 
 
106 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 XL VI. 
 
 " The eyes are but our prison-windows, closed 
 Were Milton's, still it was for him to view 
 The awful splendours that o'er Heaven reposed, 
 The beauties mild which on the poor earth grew. 
 Beethoven had no ears to hear, yet who 
 Could sounds of harmony arrange so well ? 
 Oh, what could not the soul of genius do, 
 If 'twere encased in a less earthly shell 
 Than this debasing form, wherein 'tis doom'd to dwell ! 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 " And what doth language but elaborate 
 And thought transmit : not staring eyes do see, 
 Nor ears do hear, and souls communicate 
 Through language as like medium. Could there be 
 Intelligence 'twixt souls from matter free ? 
 Pray, what is genius but a half-freed soul, 
 Which in few words displays its brilliancy : 
 The soul of common man attempts control, 
 But language fails, and shows not genius but a fool. 
 
Sir Aberdour; or, the Sceptic. 107 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 " Poor abject body, form'd of empty clay, 
 Yield thy pretensions, short will be thy reign ; 
 Bright spirit that actuates, thy tyrant's sway 
 Oppresses sore, but thou must not complain ; 
 Bear with thy pilgrimage, thy portion pain 
 May be, — in friendship false, in love unbless'd, 
 In blasted hopes, in ills that will remain, 
 Or worst, in despot's rule, made manifest ; 
 
 There is awaiting thee a blissful time of rest. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 ** The God of majesty, who call'd thee forth 
 From nothing, sits on His high judgment-seat; 
 Thy sojourn He regards ; if thou hast worth, 
 When death doth summon, He reward will mete ; 
 More bitter life, life after death more sweet ! 
 St. Julian, I may henceforth live in peace, — 
 If peace be here 'tis from the Paraclete ; 
 My murmurs all must from this moment cease. 
 I am a poor weak man, may God my strength in- 
 crease!" 
 
 p 
 
108 SirAberdour; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 L. 
 
 The barque that sail'd from Santa Cruz that eve 
 With Count St. Julian, from the palm-clad shore 
 Keceived a youth, whom few could well believe 
 Was proudest of proud men the day before — 
 So sadden'd, humbled now was Aberdour: 
 He fear'd to gaze upon the Heavens, the light 
 Therefrom confounded ; so a man will low'r 
 His head when coming from the dark of night 
 Into a wondrous room, where lustres blaze most 
 bright ! 
 
NOTES TO CANTO III, 
 
 1 " Approach the hallow 'd spot whereon once stood 
 The hall of ancient roy 
 
 *|S5?>HE royal palace of the monarchs of England, from 
 Edward the Confessor to Queen Elizabeth, stood 
 upon the site now occupied by New Westminster 
 Palace. 
 
 2 " Here sainted Edward died ; here Harold sped" 
 
 Edward the Confessor died here, January 14th, 1066, and on 
 the Easter succeeding King Harold came hither from York. 
 
 8 " Here Magna Charta once again was seaVd." 
 
 Magna Charta and the Charta de Foresta were confirmed " in 
 a great council " here by Henry III. 
 
110 Notes. 
 
 4 " Thrice lambent flames triumphant rose high o'er 
 The parching fabrics of art's early stage" 
 
 The palace was nearly destroyed by fire in 1298, and again in 
 1512; the third fire occurred October 16th, 1834. 
 
 8 " That prince was wise whose fiat disesteems 
 Alike the self denying minister, 
 And juggling priest of Fo — himself his only care." 
 
 The Emperor Too-Kanang (of China) addressed a proclamation 
 to his subjects in which he reviewed all the different forms of 
 religion known in the empire, including Christianity, and, 
 deeming them all false, advised his people to despise them 
 altogether. 
 
 6 " Where Nature smiles, and Nature looks as dead." 
 
 The whole island of Teneriffe, says Humboldt, may be con- 
 sidered as a forest of laurels, arbutus, and pines, of which the 
 external margin only has been cleared, whilst the central part 
 consists of rocky and sterile soil. There is something melan- 
 choly in the sight of a crater in the midst of a fertile and highly 
 cultivated country. 
 
 7 " And Homer's Atlas rears its venerable head." 
 
 The Peak of Teneriffe is now admitted by all to be the Atlas 
 of Homer and Hesiod, whilst the Atlas of the Roman and 
 Greek geographers is in Northern Africa. 
 
Notes. Ill 
 
 8 " Time passed, and one by one familiar stars 
 Were blotted from the sky, whilst others shone 
 Instead with planetary light as Mars, — 
 Not sparkling like the stars we look upon." 
 
 As we approach the equator the stars familiar to us disappear, 
 and are replaced by others, which shine with a soft and planetary 
 effulgence, giving to the sublimity of a tropical night much of 
 its charm. As the island of Teneriffe is in 28° N. lat. I can- 
 not venture to view the southern cross and the glorious aspect 
 of the southern heavens as manifested by the constellation of 
 the ship, the nebula? which rival in lustre the Milky Way, and 
 the phosphorescent clouds of Magellan. I have crossed the 
 equator four times, and have been amply repaid by a survey 
 of the southern sky. 
 
 9 "Hail, Teneriffe, and 'Islands of the Blest; 
 Region of darkness and of light! thy fame 
 Begun with learning;'' fyc. 
 
 Through the colonies which the Phoenicians sent into Greece, 
 particularly through that under Cadmus, the information re- 
 specting Mount Atlas (Peak of Teneriffe) and the " Fortunate 
 Islands," or " Islands of the Blest" (the Canaries), was received 
 and spread through Greece. The songs of the bards propagated 
 the tradition, and embellished it till the region became as 
 mystical as Hades. 
 
112 Notes. 
 
 10 « j j ee i as f e it fog Nursian in his shame, 
 
 Who sigh? d for peace within thy tranquil shade." 
 
 Sertorius, harassed by Sylla's troops under Annius, crossed 
 the Straits of Gades (Cadiz) and landed near the mouth of the 
 river Bcetis (Guadalquiver). He met there mariners arrived 
 from the Atlantic islands (Canaries) whose description of the 
 beauties of those isles induced in him the desire to seek tran- 
 quillity therein, at a distance from war and tyranny, &c." 
 PLUTARCH in Vita. — Appian de Civ. 
 
 11 " / come not as the Lusitanian came, 
 
 To subjugate, convert, and then destroy? 
 
 The Canaries were formerly inhabited by the Guanches, famed 
 for their tall stature. In the fifteenth century the Portuguese 
 and Spaniards visited the islands in pursuit of their slave trade, 
 and the unfortunate inhabitants, subjugated and converted, 
 were eventually destroyed. The race is extinct altogether. 
 
 12 " What is man's origin ? Look at the scale 
 Of being, graduated, and avow 
 Lamarck did promulgate no idle tale, — 
 That once proud man was what the ape is now" 
 
 Lamarck's theory of" Progressive Development" is founded, I 
 believe, on Tiedeman's discovery of the changes that take place 
 in the foetal brain of mammals, which represent successively 
 forms analagous to the brains of the fish, reptile, and bird. 
 
Notes. 113 
 
 Lamarck, if I remember rightly (I have not thought of this 
 subject for years, and at present I have no access to books), 
 ascribes man's origin to the evolution of a monad out of inert 
 matter. 
 
 13 " Innate ideas are impressed to show 
 
 A God exists, but they are soon removed 
 When they affirm an ape can love and be beloved" 
 
 Sir Aberdour is evidently no believer in the immutability 
 of species, but he surely mistakes the vulgar notion about the 
 ape tribe for an innate idea. What will not prejudice lead to ! 
 It may be that he had in recollection Father Gili's story, as men- 
 tioned by Baron Humboldt, and had given his reverence credit 
 for sincerity, the more readily that the purport of the tale went 
 to establish more than the good father had intended. The 
 story is this, " gravely related by Father Gili :" — " A lady of 
 San Carlos passed several years with a large anthropomorphous 
 monkey of South America (hairy man of the woods), and left 
 him only because she and the children that she bore him were 
 tired of living far from the church and the sacraments." 
 
 14 "In the grand ' struggle for existence ' man 
 Obeys, like other animals, His said, 
 The law, that with the dawn of life began, 
 Of ' natural selection? " 
 
 Darwin's Theory of Descent with Modification has many 
 strenuous supporters. There certainly is " grandeur in this view 
 of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed 
 
114 Notes. 
 
 by the Creator into a few forms or into one ; and that, whilst 
 this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of 
 gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful 
 and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved." 
 " When I view all beings, not as special creations, but as lineal 
 descendants of some few beings which lived long before the 
 first bed of the Silurian system was deposited, they seem to me 
 to become ennobled." (Origin of Species.) 
 
 The diffusion of this theory, so humiliating to man, must 
 tend to the development and manifestation of kindly feelings 
 towards all forms of animal life. 
 
 15 " Cave of Ataruipe, give up thy dead." 
 
 Near the southern entrance of the Raudal of Atures, on the 
 right bank of the Orinoco, is the Cave of Ataruipe, the vault or 
 cemetery of an extinct nation. Over 600 skeletons, in baskets 
 woven from the stalks of palm-leaves, were found by Humboldt, 
 who states, " it is supposed the Atures, being pressed upon by 
 cannibal Caribs, withdrew to the Rocks of the Cataracts, in which 
 the tribe finally perished." (Aspects of Nature.) 
 
 16 " What I comprehend I can believe, — 
 No more." 
 
 Bayle's dictum, " comprehension is the measure of faith," seeni8 
 to be the motto of Philosophy. 
 
Notes. 115 
 
 17 " There is an unity in the design 
 Of this vast universe''' 
 
 This argument of Paley has been over-estimated. It can prove 
 no more than is stated. 
 
 18 " Stand forth, Socinus, Ellis, Hutchinson, Magee." 
 
 Faustus Socinus, founder of modern Unitarianism, and the 
 Hutchinsonians, friends of Revelation, denied that the existence 
 of God could be proved from the phenomena of the universe. 
 Dr. Ellis (author of a treatise on this subject published in 
 1743), and Dr. Magee, Archbishop of Dublin, both stout Epi- 
 scopalians, professed the same opinion. 
 
 19 " Tve seen the ' Holy FooV on ' Adam's Peak* 
 Where Adam fell, like Vulcan, hurVd by Jove, — 
 The Tomb of Adam, or, as others speak, 
 Of Buddha," frc. 
 
 The " Holy Footstep " on Adam's Peak, in Ceylon, is a depres- 
 sion on the summit of a rock, not very like a footstep. According 
 to Sale's Koran, when Adam was cast down from Heaven he fell 
 in Ceylon or Serendib ; hence the Mahommedans reverence 
 and resort to the depression on Adam's Peak, as to the footmark 
 of Adam. The Buddhists consider the depression to be the 
 
 Q 
 
116 Notes. 
 
 footprint made by Buddha as he departed from the earth, whilst 
 a third class (the Brahmins) regard it as the veritable footmark 
 of Siva. The followers of three religions throng there. The 
 Mahommedans maintain that the body of Adam reposes in the 
 mountain, whilst the Buddhists assert it is Buddha's body that 
 lies there. Some of Adam's or Buddha's hair and teeth were 
 shown in Marco Polo's time. 
 
 20 « p ve seen fa Christian cast Ms eyes above, 
 
 And — profanation I — breathe a charm or pray'r." 
 
 The chief shark-charmer at the pearl fishery of Ceylon, in 
 1 857, was a devout Roman Catholic ! 
 
 21 " Loved by this God of gods, amen, sadoo." 
 
 The Buddhists who visit the " Holy Footstep" mutter the 
 word " sadoo" (equivalent to amen), whilst they make their 
 genuflections and offer flowers. 
 
 22 " Or Christians aspen-tree" 
 
 The Syrian Christians deduce from the fact of the Holy Cross 
 having been formed of aspen-wood, that the tree is always 
 trembling with anguish and horror. 
 
Notes. 117 
 
 23 " Like Buddhist's sacred bo." 
 
 The sacred bo-tree of the Cingalese (ficus religiosa) is sacred 
 to Buddha, who is supposed to have often slept under it. On 
 one particular evening Buddha witnessed, or rather the tree 
 did, a fear-exciting scene which has caused its leaves to tremble 
 ever since. 
 
 24 " His philosophy . . . 
 
 Was JEleatic, or about to be." 
 
 Xenophanes of Elea, in the sixth century before the Christian 
 era, founded a school of philosophy, which had for its object the 
 limitation of thought to ideas of God, or the Being, as it is in 
 itself. In this system God and the universe were confounded 
 together ; the argument being, " either God is all or nothing ; 
 if anything exists beyond Him it is wanting to His perfection." 
 
 25 " Beyond Matanza and Vittoria" 
 
 Two beautiful hamlets near Orotava. These names, slaughter 
 and victory, occur in almost every Spanish colony, and are 
 sufficiently expressive of past deeds. 
 
 28 " Or towards the Rambleta and Piton moves." 
 
 La Rambleta is the name of the plain immediately surrounding 
 the Sugarloaf, or the Piton. At the top of the Piton is the edge 
 of the crater, from which a descent may be made to the bottom 
 of the Caldera. 
 
118 Notes. 
 
 27 " St. John his fiery tribute did receive." 
 
 " The volcano exhibits a fine spectacle, when of an evening the 
 shepherds, in conformity to ancient custom, light the fires of 
 St. John. Shouts of joy are heard from afar," &c. I am in- 
 debted to Humboldt for much information concerning Teneriffe. 
 I regret that I was unable to land there when passing close to it 
 in H.M. S. " Shannon," in 1857. 
 
 28 " Asserting that the world and God are one 
 By unity of substance." 
 
 Pantheism, which is stealthily advancing in England, comprises 
 much which may be summed up in these few words, " the 
 world is in God, by confusion of substance." This proposition 
 naturally suggests, if the world be in God, evil must be in the 
 nature of God, for the world contains evil. This is blasphemy ! 
 But then the Pantheists say, if the world be an existence 
 separated from God we can conceive this existence to be added 
 to God, and thus have an idea of a being more complete, and 
 consequently more perfect than perfection, which is absurd; 
 the existence of plurality is not to be explained. 
 
 I will give the reply to this objection in the words of Jules 
 Simon : — " The co-existence of unity and plurality, or, if it 
 must be so expressed, of perfection and imperfection, is inex- 
 plicable; but is it more so in the hypothesis of creation 
 than in that of Pantheism ? Now, according to Pantheists, the 
 world is a portion of God, according to us it is exterior to, and 
 separated from, God. Unity and plurality co-exist ; is it less 
 
Notes. 119 
 
 difficult, to comprehend that plurality forms a portion of unity, 
 than that plurality is exterior to, and separated from, unity ? 
 or, in other terms, is it less difficult to comprehend that imper- 
 fection should form a part of perfection, than that imperfection 
 should exist exterior to, and separated from, perfection ? 
 
 " Unity co-exists with plurality, but not, according to the 
 Pantheists, without producing it. It produces it in all cases ; 
 there, beyond itself; and here, within its proper substance. 
 If it is asserted that one of these operations is more easy and 
 intelligible than the other, the assertion amounts to nothing, 
 for we know not how anything is done, whether we consider 
 our own works or those of God. The action of producing 
 within and beyond myself is equally familiar. I produce within 
 myself a thought ; I produce beyond myself a movement ; these 
 two problems are equally incomprehensible to me, whatever the 
 presumptuous philosophy of Pantheists may say to the con- 
 trary." — Nat. Religion. 
 
 •29 « They must insist on Divine plenitude? 
 This argument is Jules Simon's. — Nat. Religion. 
 
 30 " That God exists and is a spirit I feel, 
 For I can recognize Infinity." 
 
 " The most beautiful, the most exalted, the soundest and best 
 proof of the existence of God, that which supposes the least, is 
 
120 Notes. 
 
 the natural idea we have of the infinite. For it is certain 
 the human mind recognises infinity, though it cannot com- 
 prehend it." — Malebranche, Research into Truth, Book iii. 
 pt. ii. c. 6. 
 
 31 " Infinity of time and space reveal 
 
 A subject, cause, that Infinite must be." 
 
 " Infinite time and infinite space are not substances, they are 
 therefore attributes ; consequently there must exist an infinite 
 cause and subject to which infinite time and space belong." 
 Dr. Sam. Clarke, Treatise on the Existence of God. 
 
SIR ABERDOUR; OR, THE 
 SCEPTIC. 
 
 Canto IV. 
 
 i. 
 HERE is an insect of the pool, 
 At once unclean and beautiful, 1 
 Which on the water's surface plays 
 When calm is day and bright its rays, 
 But let a shadow or a breath 
 Be seen or felt it dives beneath, 
 And, wallowing in the filthy slime, 
 Destroys its beauty for the time. 
 How like is man ! as bright a thing 
 Whilst fluttering with a joyous wing, 
 But when he leaves the realm of air 
 And seeks the caverns of the earth, 
 
122 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 The vice and darkness that lie there 
 Mar the bright lustre of his birth. 
 
 The fairy shrimp doth rise again, 
 Doth wash its slimy filth away, 
 
 And so may man if he will deign 
 To ponder well on life, and pray 
 For grace to govern and obey. 
 
 ii. 
 
 So felt the sceptic now reclaim'd, 
 The feelings which of late inflamed 
 Had pass'd away, like lightning clouds 
 
 By thunder rent and tempest driven, 
 And 'stead of darkness that enshrouds 
 
 Beams now the tranquil light of Heaven ; 
 And o'er the watery waste he moves, 
 Like any joyous swain who loves ; 
 The dancing spray the vessel throws 
 From off her proudly heaving bows, 
 The deep blue ocean's frothing tide, 
 That murmuring sweeps the vessel's side, 
 The sea-bird's cry, the sighing breeze, 
 All show or breathe love's witcheries. 
 
Sir Aher dour ; or, the Sceptic, 123 
 
 Oh ! what a glorious time for love, 
 With nought beneath, around, above, 
 But the blue sea or azure sky- 
 To make or mar a reverie ! — 
 When, in a storm, is closely press'd 
 The loved one's image to the breast, 
 From thunder's roar and lightning's glare, 
 To be protected fondly there : 
 When, in a calm, the heavens descend 
 And, mirror'd, with the ocean blend, 
 And forth unnumber'd suns do shine, 
 Encircling close a form divine ; — 
 The picture in such glory set 
 Who once has seen can ne'er forget ! 
 
 in. 
 
 On, on he coursed, a fortnight pass'd, 
 And still another week at last ; 
 Before him now in beauteous haze 
 Love's sweet enchanting fountain plays ; 
 He thinks of Maud, of only her, 
 
 The world seems dwarf 'd to this one spot, 
 
 K 
 
124 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 So to the thirsty mariner, 
 
 Exhausted, fainting, dying of drought, 
 Seem those fresh-water springs at sea, 
 Restoring life and liberty. 2 
 
 IV. 
 
 He leap'd on shore, — he knows his way, 
 Though here he never trod before ; 
 
 He reach'd his destination, — day 
 
 Black midnight seems ! th' unyielding door 
 
 And the closed windows there proclaim 
 
 Abandon'd hope, o'erwhelming shame ! 
 
 Oh ! blame him not ! his own fierce thoughts 
 Well pictured his the worst of lots ; 
 Too like he seem'd to that vile thing 
 
 Which spreads destruction all around, 
 And kills itself with its own sting 
 
 When nothing else is left to wound ! 3 
 Too like seem'd the diminish'd earth 
 
 To the parch'd steppe, when is forth 
 The desolating drought, 4 that throws 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 125 
 
 The veil of death half over those, 
 Who struggling breathe, devoid of sense, 
 Within its maddening influence ; 
 Where the wild horses frantic roam, 
 
 Tossing their heads high in the air, 
 As though some moisten'd breeze could come 
 
 And waft the wretches from despair ; 
 Where that illusive lake doth dwell, — 
 Mirage or thirst of the gazelle, 5 — 
 Which but unfolds to aggravate 
 Evils already far too great, 
 Revealing to the greedy sight 
 Fountains of pure unmix'd delight, 
 For ever unapproachable, 
 Like Heaven to eyes of those in Hell ; 
 Where life — no phase of it is worse — 
 Seems not a blessing but a curse, 
 And the parch'd soil awide doth gape 
 As if inviting an escape, 
 By plunging through Death's awkward snare, 
 From all the horrors crowding there ! 
 
126 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 V. 
 Could Maud be dead and he not know ? 
 Could she be lost to him ? ev'n so ; 
 If dead or lost 'tis only he 
 
 Who is to blame, and none will share 
 The crushing load of misery 
 
 Which he henceforth is doom'd to bear. 
 He felt her loss, alas ! too late ; 
 He cursed his own unhappy fate, 
 And mourn'd for her as lovers mourn, 
 
 Who melt with love's subliming fire — 
 
 Not kindled by earth's low desire — 
 When from its holy shrine is torn, 
 By some unseemly dire mischance 
 Or desecrating circumstance, 
 The idol that no stranger may — 
 
 When to the stranger's care transferr'd- 
 Worship with half such zeal as they, 
 
 Who had so blindly minister'd. 
 How selfish is this holiest feeling, 
 
 Though 'tis the true Promethean fire 
 That man from Heaven is ever stealing, 
 
 It smoulders but cannot expire ; 
 
Sir Aber dour ; or, the Sceptic. 127 
 
 Though oft it varies 'tis the same, 
 
 As flame whilst flickering still is flame ; 
 
 Now like a little twinkling star 
 
 It shines, and now more brilliant far, 
 
 Like the great sun, it floods with light 
 
 Those blessed souls that seem all good, 
 As though flung from th' empyrean height — 
 
 Sparkles of Heaven's beatitude — » 
 To show how sweet the yoke may be 
 We bear on to eternity ; 
 As much of Earth as 'tis of Heaven, 
 It seems not merely lent but given 
 To be our safeguard in distress, 
 A beacon in this wilderness, 
 Which heavenward points, and lights the path — 
 Where mingling oft with love is wrath, 
 Just as we see in certain weather 
 Sunshine and rain both out together. 
 As exhalations will arise 
 From the foul earth to cloud the skies, 
 So sordid thoughts will dim this feeling, 
 Though glimpses of it e'er revealing ! 
 
128 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 VI. 
 
 His thoughts pursued, and like the gnu 
 When hunted in the drear karoo 6 
 He turn'd at bay with fury wild, 
 Though a few moments since so mild: 
 Here was no sunshine, here no flowers, 
 Here dwelt no love in fragrant bowers, 
 No smiling faces beam'd around, 
 No blest contentment here was found ; 
 Oh ! why did Heaven deceive him so ! 
 Did Heaven but raise him up to throw 
 Him headlong from a pinnacle 
 Into the very depths of Hell ! 
 Poor youth ! he still is human, still 
 He sway'd is by his tyrant will ; 
 There is a something which he wants, 
 And for this something still he pants ; 
 But half repentant, half forgiven, 
 He made a hollow truce with Heaven, 
 And charges now to Heaven alone 
 The evil that is all his own. 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 129 
 
 VII. 
 
 How wise is Heaven, how ignorant 
 
 Is man, who scarce knows what to want ; 
 
 Left to himself he hates or loves, 
 
 Sway'd by some idle circumstance, 
 And as each puppet-master moves 
 
 He smiles or weeps, will howl or dance. 
 How weak are we, oh ! say how weak, 
 
 All you who have a favourite sin ; 
 
 But ask yourselves and look within. 
 Why are we haughty and not meek ? 
 We can do nothing but resolve, 
 
 And what is resolution more 
 Than that in fancy we revolve, — 
 
 A mere desire without the pow'r 
 To claim to-morrow what to-day 
 We fondly, ardently portray ? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 When his fierce passion spent its force 
 And disappointment turn'd to pain, 
 
130 Sir Aber dour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 Sir Aberdour grew cool, of course, 
 
 Till freshening passion urged again ; 
 And like a forest beast encaged, 
 
 Whom wayward urchins fret and tease, 
 He idly chafed, he idly raged, 
 
 And grew indifferent by degrees. 
 The more he thought the more he felt 
 What dire conflicting passions dwelt 
 Within his breast, which nought allays 
 But the great God his mind obeys. 
 And he, at length, was touch'd no less 
 With pity for his own distress 
 Than with a holy, reverent awe 
 
 For the High Majesty of Heaven, 
 The golden letters in whose law 
 
 Are, Mercy — all may be forgiven. 
 There is no god but God alone, 
 
 There is no glory on the earth 
 That emanates not from His throne, 
 
 Where every excellence had birth ! 
 
Sir Aberdour; or, the Sceptic. 131 
 
 IX. 
 
 It happen'd whilst he lay rebuked 
 
 And chasten'd by his grief, he look'd 
 
 Into a packet just received 
 
 From Teneriffe, — again he lived ! 
 
 There was a letter which had stray'd, 
 
 And which the joyful news convey'd 
 
 That Maud was neither lost nor dead. 
 
 Just like a spotless sunbeam flung 
 
 Crush'd flowers and rankling weeds among, 
 
 The pure, angelic Maud had flown — 
 
 Sweet messenger from Pity's throne — 
 
 To where the haughty Muscovite 
 
 Had arm'd him for aggressive fight ; 
 
 Where now the noble, young, and gay, 
 With many a vile and worthless name — 
 Since writ upon the scroll of fame — 
 
 One reeking mass of carnage lay. 
 
 The gentlest of the gentle band 
 
 That sallied from this tearful land, 
 
 Conveying to the wounded brave 
 
 The sympathies such angels have, 
 S 
 
132 Sir Aber dour ; or } the Sceptic. 
 
 Was Maud ; no dying hero there, 
 
 Son, father, brother, friend, or lover, 
 Who did not own her fostering care ; 
 
 And some there were would fain discover 
 In her a mother, sister, daughter, 
 For who but such, amidst that slaughter, 
 Could o'er their couches lean and weep, 
 Caress their wounds and lull to sleep ? 
 
 Thither went Aberdour in haste, 
 
 At least to view if not to taste 
 
 The luxury that freemen find 
 
 In battling for oppress'd mankind ; 
 
 To be near Maud, each wish of hers 
 
 Anticipating as she stirs, — 
 
 Her every movement shaking balm, 
 
 Her every smile a holy calm 
 
 Diffusing round, when groaning men 
 
 In gazing on her heavenly face 
 Forget their helplessness, their pain, 
 . And fancy that some mystic place 
 
Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 133 
 
 Where angel-forms are floating round, 
 Where angel voices soft resound, 
 Where sin is not, where wrong's forgiven, — 
 A sort of ante-room to Heaven ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 He stands upon the gory spot 
 Where England, France, Italia fought 
 Beneath one banner, in defence 
 Of sacred Freedom's influence. 
 The whizzing shot, the bursting shell, 
 Each had its fascinating spell, 
 To strike was but to curse or bless, 
 One martyr more, one tyrant less ! 
 Subdued he stands ; how slight the cause 
 Which forth such bloody havoc draws ! 
 If man from man, for small offence, 
 Exact such punishment, learn hence 
 How dread the chastisement should be 
 That Heaven awards to you and me ; 
 How slight the sin of man 'gainst man, 
 How vast is man's offence 'gainst Heaven, 
 
134 Sir Aberdour ; or, the Sceptic. 
 
 Great God ! vile man ! we hardly can 
 Forgive, yet we would be forgiven ! 
 To Heaven he lifted up his eyes, 
 And, sorrowing for the past, his sighs 
 Ascended like the vapour's breath, 
 Which rising leaves all bright beneath. 
 'Twas at this moment, when he seem'd 
 Most fit for Heaven, a rifle gleam'd, 
 And ere the flash had vanish'd, home 
 The fire-sent messenger had come. 
 
 He saw no more till his glazed eye 
 
 Was open'd by a rapturous touch, 
 When instantly a piercing cry 
 
 Broke on his ear, oh ! 'twas too much ! 
 He there beheld, though dim his vision, 
 His long-lost Maud ; what bliss Elysian 
 To feel her touch, to feel her breath, 
 E'en though such rapture closed in death ! 
 
NOTES TO CANTO IV. 
 
 1 " There is an insect of the pool, 
 At once unclean and beautiful." 
 
 HE Fairy Shrimp (chirocephalous diaphanous of 
 naturalists) is a small crustacean of elegant form 
 and of silvery transparency, found occasionally 
 in fresh-water pools. In fine weather it moves 
 gracefully on the surface of the water, balancing itself by 
 means of its branchial feet ; but on the least disturbance it 
 disappears and plunges into the mud at the bottom. 
 
 2 " Seem those fresh- water springs at sea, 
 Restoring life and liberty." 
 
 Humboldt says, " On the southern coast of Cuba, south-west of 
 the port of Batabano, in the Gulph of Xagua, a few miles from 
 the coast, springs of fresh water gush from the bed of the ocean 
 (probably under the influence of hydrostatic pressure) and rise 
 
136 Notes. 
 
 in the midst of the salt water. Trading vessels sometimes 
 visit these springs and take in a supply of fresh water." — As- 
 pects of Nature. 
 
 3 " Too like he seem'd to that vile thing 
 
 Which spreads destruction all around. 
 And kills itself with its own sting 
 When nothing else is left to wounds 
 
 I have read somewhere that the scorpion has the destructive 
 and suicidal propensities here attributed. 
 
 4 " Too like seenid the diminished earth 
 
 To the parch'' d steppe, when is forth 
 The desolating drought.'" 
 
 " In the South American Steppe, during the season of drought, 
 the indurated soil cracks asunder, as if from the shock of an 
 earthquake, the horizon draws nearer, and the steppe seems to 
 contract. — The mirage but increases the misery of the thirsty 
 wanderer. The wild horses and cattle roam about, the cattle 
 lowing dismally, the horses stretching out their long necks and 
 sniffing the wind, if happily a moister current of air may betray 
 the neighbourhood of a not wholly dried-up pool." — Aspects of 
 Nature. 
 
 5 " Where that illusive lake doth dwell, — 
 
 Mirage or thirst of the gazelle." 
 
 The mirage is called in Sanscrit " the thirst of the gazelle." 
 
Notes. 137 
 
 c " Like the gnu 
 
 When hunted in the drear haroo." 
 
 The gnu (Boselaphus gnu) is a species of antelope found in 
 the karoo of South Africa. It flies at the* approach of the 
 hunter, but when wounded often turns upon its pursuer. 
 
 Finis. 
 
 CHISW1CK PRESS : — PRINTED BY WHTTTINGHAM AND WILK1NS, 
 TOOKS COURT, CHANCERT LANE. 
 

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