Classic Poem

(From " Tales of the Hall " )

There was a Widow in the village known
To our good Squire, and he had favour shown
By frequent bounty. — She as usual came,
And Richard saw the worn and weary frame,
Pale cheek, and eye subdued, of her whose mind
Was grateful still, and glad a friend to find,
Though to the world long since and all its hopes resigned:
Her easy form, in rustic neatness clad,
Was pleasing still, but she for ever sad.

" Deep is her grief! " said Richard, — " truly deep,
And very still, and therefore seems to sleep;
To borrow simile, to paint her woes,
Theirs, like the river's motion, seems repose,
Making no petty murmuring, — settled, slow,
They never waste, they never overflow.
Rachel is one of those — for there are some
Who look for nothing in their days to come,
No good nor evil, neither hope nor fear,
Nothing remains or cheerful or severe;
One day is like the past, the year's sweet prime
Like the sad fall, — for Rachel heeds not time:
Nothing remains to agitate her breast,
Spent is the tempest, and the sky at rest;
But while it raged her peace its ruin met,
And now the sun is on her prospects set; —
Leave her, and let us her distress explore,
She heeds it not — she has been left before. "

There were two lads called Shelley hither brought,
But whence we know not — it was never sought;
Their wandering mother left them, left her name,
And the boys throve and valiant men became:
Handsome, of more than common size, and tall,
And, no one's kindred, seemed beloved of all:
All seemed alliance by their deeds to prove,
And loved the youths who could not claim their love.
One was called James, the more sedate and grave,
The other Robert — names their neighbours gave;
They both were brave, but Robert loved to run
And meet his danger — James would rather shun
The dangerous trial, but, whenever tried,
He all his spirit to the act applied.

Robert would aid on any man bestow,
James would his man and the occasion know;
For that was quick and prompt — this temperate and slow.
Robert would all things he desired pursue,
James would consider what was best to do;
All spoke of Robert as a man they loved,
And most of James as valued and approved.

Both had some learning: Robert his acquired
By quicker parts, and was by praise inspired;
James, as he was in his acquirements slow,
Would learn the worth of what he tried to know.
In fact, this youth was generous — that was just;
The one you loved, the other you would trust:
Yet him you loved you would for truth approve,
And him you trusted you would likewise love.

Such were the brothers — James had found his way
To Nether Hall, and there inclined to stay;
He could himself command, and therefore could obey.
He with a keeper took his daily round,
A rival grew, and some unkindness found;
But his superior farmed! the place was void,
And James, guns, dogs, and dignity enjoyed.

Robert had scorn of service; he would be
A slave to no man — happy were the free,
And only they: by such opinions led,
Robert to sundry kinds of trade was bred;
Nor let us wonder if he sometimes made
An active partner in a lawless trade;
Fond of adventure, wanton as the wave,
He loved the danger and the law to brave;
But these were chance-adventures, known to few, —
Not that the hero cared what people knew.

The brothers met not often — When they met,
James talked of honest gains and scorn of debt,
Of virtuous labour, of a sober life,
And what with credit would support a wife.

But Robert answered, — " How can men advise
Who to a master let their tongue and eyes?
Whose words are not their own? whose foot and hand
Run at a nod, or act upon command?
Who cannot eat or drink, discourse or play,
Without requesting others that they may?
Debt you would shun; but what advice to give,
Who owe your service every hour you live!
Let a bell sound, and from your friends you run,
Although the darling of your heart were one;
But if the bondage fits you, I resign
You to your lot — I am content with mine! "

Thus would the lads their sentiments express,
And part in earnest, part in playfulness;
Till Love, controller of all hearts and eyes,
Breaker of bonds, of friendship's holy ties,
Awakener of new wills and slumbering sympathies,
Began his reign, — till Rachel, meek-eyed maid,
That form, those cheeks, that faultless face displayed,
That child of gracious nature, ever neat
And never fine; a floweret simply sweet,
Seeming at least unconscious she was fair;
Meek in her spirit, timid in her air,
And shrinking from his glance if one presumed
To come too near the beauty as it bloomed.

Robert beheld her in her father's cot
Day after day, and blessed his happy lot;
He looked indeed, but he could not offend
By gentle looks — he was her father's friend:
She was accustomed to that tender look,
And frankly gave the hand he fondly took;
She loved his stories, pleased she heard him play,
Pensive herself, she loved to see him gay,
And if they loved not yet, they were in Love's highway.
But Rachel now to womanhood was grown,
And would no more her faith and fondness own;
She called her latent prudence to her aid,
And grew observant, cautious, and afraid;
She heard relations of her lover's guile,
And could believe the danger of his smile;
With art insidious rival damsels strove
To show how false his speech, how feigned his love;
And though her heart another story told,
Her speech grew cautious, and her manner cold.

Rachel had village fame, was fair and tall,
And gained a place of credit at the Hall;
Where James beheld her seated in that place,
With a child's meekness, and an angel's face;
Her temper soft, her spirit firm, her words
Simple and few as simple truth affords.

James could but love her, — he at church had seen
The tall, fair maid, had met her on the green,
Admiring, always, nor surprised to find
Her figure often present to his mind;
But now he saw her daily, and the sight
Gave him new pleasure and increased delight.

But James, still prudent and reserved, though sure
The love he felt was love that would endure,
Would wait awhile, observing what was fit,
And meet, and right, nor would himself commit;
Then was he flattered — James in time became
Rich, both as slayer of the Baron's game
And as protector, — not a female dwelt
In that demesne who had not feigned or felt
Regard for James; and he from all had praise
Enough a young man's vanity to raise;
With all these pleasures he of course must part,
When Rachel reigned sole empress of his heart.

Robert was now deprived of that delight
He once experienced in his mistress' sight;
For, though he now his frequent visits paid,
He saw but little of the cautious maid:
The simple common pleasures that he took
Grew dull, and he the wonted haunts forsook;
His flute and song he left, his book and pen,
And sought the meetings of adventurous men;
There was a love-born sadness in his breast,
That wanted stimulus to bring on rest;
These simple pleasures were no more of use,
And danger only could repose produce;
He joined the associates in their lawless trade,
And was at length of their profession made.

He saw connected with the adventurous crew
Those whom he judged were sober men and true;
He found that some, who should the trade prevent,
Gave it by purchase their encouragement;
He found that contracts could be made with those
Who had their pay these dealers to oppose;
And the good ladies whom at church he saw
With looks devout, of reverence and awe,
Could change their feelings as they change their place,
And, whispering, deal for spicery and lace:
And thus the craft and avarice of these
Urged on the youth, and gave his conscience ease.

Him loved the maiden Rachel, fondly loved,
As many a sigh and tear in absence proved,
And many a fear for dangers that she knew,
And many a doubt what one so gay might do:
Of guilt she thought not, — she had often heard
They bought and sold, and nothing wrong appeared;
Her father's maxim this: she understood
There was some ill, — but he, she knew, was good.
It was a traffic — but was done by night —
If wrong, how trade? why secrecy, if right?
But Robert's conscience, she believed, was pure —
And that he read his Bible she was sure.

James, better taught, in confidence declared
His grief for what his guilty brother dared:
He sighed to think how near he was akin
To one reduced by godless men to sin;
Who, being always of the law in dread,
To other crimes were by the danger led —
And crimes with like excuse. — The Smuggler cries,
" What guilt is his who pays for what he buys? "
The Poacher questions, with perverted mind,
" Were not the gifts of Heaven for all designed? "
This cries, " I sin not — take not till I pay; " —
That , " My own hand brought down my proper prey: " —
And while to such fond arguments they cling,
How fear they God? how honour they the king?
Such men associate, and each other aid,
Till all are guilty, rash, and desperate made;
Till to some lawless deed the wretches fly,
And in the act, or for the acting, die.

The maid was frightened, — but, if this was true,
Robert for certain no such danger knew;
He always prayed ere he a trip began,
And was too happy for a wicked man:
How could a creature, who was always gay,
So kind to all men, so disposed to pray, —
How could he give his heart to such an evil way?
Yet she had fears, — for she could not believe
That James could lie, or purpose to deceive;
But still she found, though not without respect
For one so good, she must the man reject;
For, simple though she was, full well she knew
What this strong friendship led him to pursue;
And, let the man be honest as the light,
Love warps the mind a little from the right;
And she proposed, against the trying day,
What in the trial she should think and say.

And now, their love avowed, in both arose
Fear and disdain, — the orphan pair were foes.

Robert, more generous of the two, avowed
His scorn, defiance, and contempt aloud.

James talked of pity in a softer tone,
To Rachel speaking, and with her alone:
He knew full well, he said, to what must come
His wretched brother, what would be his doom:
Thus he her bosom fenced with dread about;
But love he could not with his skill drive out.
Still he effected something, — and that skill
Made the love wretched, though it could not kill;
And Robert failed, though much he tried, to prove
He had no guilt — she granted he had love.

Thus they proceeded, till a winter came,
When the stern keeper told of stolen game:
Throughout the woods the poaching dogs had been,
And from him nothing should the robbers screen,
From him and law, — he would all hazards run,
Nor spare a poacher, were his brother one, —
Love, favour, interest, tie of blood should fail,
Till vengeance bore him bleeding to the jail.

Poor Rachel shuddered, — smuggling she could name
Without confusion, for she felt not shame;
But poachers were her terror, and a wood
Which they frequented had been marked by blood;
And though she thought her Robert was secure
In better thoughts, yet could she not be sure.

James now was urgent, — it would break his heart
With hope, with her, and with such views to part,
When one so wicked would her hand possess,
And he a brother! — that was his distress,
And must be hers. — She heard him, and she sighed,
Looking in doubt, — but nothing she replied.
There was a generous feeling in her mind,
That told her this was neither good nor kind:
James caused her terror, but he did no more —
Her love was now as it had been before.

Their traffic failed — and the adventurous crew
No more their profitless attempts renew:
Dig they will not, and beg they might in vain,
Had they not pride, and what can then remain?

Now was the game destroyed, and not a hare
Escaped at least the danger of the snare;
Woods of their feathered beauty were bereft,
The beauteous victims of the silent theft;
The well-known shops received a large supply,
That they who could not kill at least might buy.

James was enraged, enraged his lord, and both
Confirmed their threatening with a vengeful oath:
Fresh aid was sought, — and nightly on the lands
Walked on their watch the strong, determined bands:
Pardon was offered, and a promised pay,
To him who would the desperate gang betray.
Nor failed the measure, — on a certain night
A few were seized — the rest escaped by flight;
Yet they resisted boldly ere they fled,
And blows were dealt around, and blood was shed;
Two groaning helpers on the earth were laid,
When more arrived the lawful cause to aid;
Then four determined men were seized and bound,
And Robert in this desperate number found:
In prison fettered, he deplored his fate,
And cursed the folly he perceived too late.

James was a favourite with his lord, — the zeal
He showed was such as masters ever feel:
If he for vengeance on a culprit cried,
Or if for mercy, still his lord complied;
And now, 'twas said, he will for mercy plead,
For his own brother's was the guilty deed:
True, the hurt man is in a mending way,
But must be crippled to his dying day.

Now James had vowed the law should take its course,
He would not stay it, if he did not force;
He could his witness, if he pleased, withdraw,
Or he could arm with certain death the law:
This he attested to the maid, and true,
If this he could not, yet he much could do.

How suffered then that maid! — no thought she had,
No view of days to come, that was not sad;
As sad as life with all its hopes resigned,
As sad as aught but guilt can make mankind.

With bitter grief the pleasure she reviewed
Of early hope, with innocence pursued,
When she began to love, and he was fond and good.
He now must die, she heard from every tongue —
Die, and so thoughtless! perish, and so young!
Brave, kind, and generous, tender, constant, true —
And he must die — " Then will I perish too! "

A thousand acts in every age will prove
Women are valiant in a cause they love;
If fate the favoured swain in danger place,
They heed not danger — perils they embrace;
They dare the world's contempt, they brave their name's disgrace;
They on the ocean meet its wild alarms,
They search the dungeon with extended arms;
The utmost trial of their faith they prove,
And yield the lover to assert their love.

James knew his power — his feelings were not nice —
Mercy he sold, and she must pay the price:
If his good lord forbore to urge their fate,
And he the utmost of their guilt to state,
The felons might their forfeit lives redeem,
And in their country's cause regain esteem;
But never more that man, whom he had shame
To call his brother, must she see or name.

Rachel was meek, but she had firmness too,
And reasoned much on what she ought to do:
In Robert's place, she knew what she should choose —
But life was not the thing she feared to lose:
She knew that she could not their contract break,
Nor for her life a new engagement make;
But he was man, and guilty, — death so near
Might not to his as to her mind appear;
And he might wish, to spare that forfeit life,
The maid he loved might be his brother's wife,
Although that brother was his bitter foe,
And he must all the sweets of life forego.

This would she try, — intent on this alone,
She could assume a calm and settled tone:
She spake with firmness, — " I will Robert see,
Know what he wishes, and what I must be; "
For James had now discovered to the maid
His inmost heart, and how he must be paid,
If he his lord would soften, and would hide
The facts that must the culprit's fate decide.
" Go not, " he said, — for she her full intent
Proclaimed — to go she purposed, and she went:
She took a guide, and went with purpose stern
The secret wishes of her friend to learn.

She saw him fettered, full of grief, alone,
Still as the dead, and he suppressed a groan
At her appearance. — Now she prayed for strength;
And the sad couple could converse at length.
It was a scene that shook her to repeat, —
Life fought with love, both powerful, and both sweet.

" Wilt thou die, Robert, or preserve thy life?
Shall I be thine own maid, or James's wife? "

" His wife! — No! — never will I thee resign —
No, Rachel, no! " — " Then am I ever thine:
I know thee rash and guilty, — but to thee
I pledged my vow, and thine will ever be.
Yet think again, — the life that God has lent
Is thine, but not to cast away — consent,
If 'tis thy wish; for this I made my way
To thy distress — command, and I obey. "

" Perhaps my brother may have gained thy heart? "
" Then why this visit, if I wished to part?
Was it — ah, man ungrateful! — wise to make
Effort like this, to hazard for thy sake
A spotless reputation, and to be
A suppliant to that stern man for thee!
But I forgive, — thy spirit has been tried,
And thou art weak, but still thou must decide.

" I asked thy brother James, wouldst thou command,
Without the loving heart, the obedient hand?
I ask thee, Robert, lover, canst thou part
With this poor hand, when master of the heart? —
He answered, Yes! — I tarry thy reply,
Resigned with him to live, content with thee to die. "

Assured of this, with spirits low and tame,
Here life so purchased — there a death of shame;
Death once his merriment, but now his dread,
And he with terror thought upon the dead:
" O! sure 'tis better to endure the care
And pain of life, than go we know not where: —
And is there not the dreaded hell for sin,
Or is it only this I feel within?
That, if it lasted, no man would sustain,
But would by any change relieve the pain:
Forgive me, love! it is a loathsome thing
To live not thine; but still this dreaded sting
Of death torments me, — I to nature cling.
Go, and be his — but love him not, be sure —
Go, love him not, — and I will life endure:
He, too, is mortal! " — Rachel deeply sighed,
But would no more converse: she had complied,
And was no longer free — she was his brother's bride.

" Farewell! " she said, with kindness, but not fond,
Feeling the pressure of the recent bond,
And put her tenderness apart to give
Advice to one who so desired to live:
She then departed, joined the attending guide,
Reflected — wept — was sad — was satisfied.

James on her worth and virtue could depend, —
He listened gladly to her story's end:
Again he promised Robert's life to save,
And claimed the hand that she in payment gave.

Robert, when death no longer was in view,
Scorned what was done, but could not this undo:
The day appointed for the trial near
He viewed with shame, and not unmixed with fear:
James might deceive him; and, if not, the schemes
Of men may fail. — " Can I depend on James? "

He might; for now the grievous price was paid —
James to the altar led the victim maid,
And gave the trembling girl his faithful word
For Robert's safety, and so gave my lord.

But this, and all the promise hope could give,
Gilded not life, — it was not joy to live;
There was no smile in Rachel, nothing gay,
The hours passed off, but never danced away.
When drew the gloomy day for trial near,
There came a note to Robert, — " Banish fear! "

He knew whence safety came, — his terror fled,
But rage and vengeance filled his soul instead.

A stronger fear in his companions rose —
The day of trial on their hopes might close:
They had no brothers, none to intercede
For them, their friends suspected, and in need;
Scattered, they judged, and could unite no more, —
Not so, — they then were at the prison door.

For some had met who sought the haunts they loved,
And were to pity and to vengeance moved:
Their fellows perish? and they see their fall? —
Why not attempt the steep but guardless wall?

Attempt was made, his part assigned each man,
And they succeeded in the desperate plan;
In truth, a purposed mercy smoothed their way,
But that they knew not — all triumphant they.
Safe in their well-known haunts, they all prepared
To plan anew, and show how much they dared.

With joy the troubled heart of Robert beat,
For life was his, and liberty was sweet;
He looked around in freedom — in delight?
O! no — his Rachel was another's right!
" Right! — has he then preserved me in the day
Of my distress? — He has the lovely pay!
But I no freedom at the slave's request, —
The price I paid shall then be repossessed!
Alas! her virtue and the law prevent,
Force cannot be, and she will not consent;
But were that brother gone! — A brother? No!
A circumventor! — and the wretch shall go!
Yet not this hand — How shifts about my mind,
Ungoverned, guideless, drifting in the wind!
And I am all a tempest, whirled around
By dreadful thoughts, that fright me and confound.
I would I saw him on the earth laid low!
I wish the fate, but must not give the blow! "

So thinks a man when thoughtful; he prefers
A life of peace till man his anger stirs,
Then all the efforts of his reason cease,
And he forgets how pleasant was that peace;
Till the wild passions what they seek obtain,
And then he sinks into his calm again.

Now met the lawless clan, — in secret met,
And down at their convivial board were set;
The plans in view to past adventures led,
And the past conflicts present anger bred;
They sighed for pleasures gone, they groaned for heroes dead:
Their ancient stores were rifled, — strong desires
Awaked, and wine rekindled latent fires.

It was a night such bold desires to move,
Strong winds and wintry torrents filled the grove;
The crackling boughs that in the forest fell,
The cawing rooks, the cur's affrightened yell,
The scenes above the wood, the floods below,
Were mixed, and none the single sound could know;
" Loud blow the blasts, " they cried, " and call us as they blow. "

In such a night — and then the heroes told
What had been done in better times of old;
How they had conquered all opposed to them,
By force in part, in part by stratagem;
And as the tales inflamed the fiery crew,
What had been done they then prepared to do;
" 'Tis a last night! " they said — the angry blast
And roaring floods seemed answering, " 'Tis a last! "

James knew they met, for he had spies about,
Grave, sober men, whom none presumed to doubt!
For if suspected, they had soon been tried
Where fears are evidence, and doubts decide:
But these escaped. — Now James companions took,
Sturdy and bold, with terror-stirring look:
He had before, by informations led,
Left the afflicted partner of his bed:
Awaked his men, and through plantations wide,
Deep woods, and trackless ling, had been their guide:
And then returned to wake the pitying wife,
And hear her tender terrors for his life.

But in this night a sure informer came, —
They were assembled who attacked his game;
Who more than once had through the park made way,
And slain the dappled breed, or vowed to slay;
The trembling spy had heard the solemn vow,
And need and vengeance both inspired them now

The keeper early had retired to rest
For brief repose; sad thoughts his mind possessed:
In his short sleep he started from his bed,
And asked in fancy's terror, " Is he dead? "
There was a call below, when James awoke,
Rose from his bed, and arms to aid him took,
Not all defensive! — there his helpers stood,
Armed like himself, and hastening to the wood.

" Why this? " he said; for Rachel poured her tears
Profuse, that spoke involuntary fears:
" Sleep, that so early thou for us mayst wake,
And we our comforts in return may take;
Sleep, and farewell! " he said, and took his way,
And the sad wife in neither could obey;
She slept not nor well fared, but restless dwelt
On her past life, and past afflictions felt:
The man she loved, the brother and the foe
Of him she married! — It had wrought her woe;
Not that she loved, but pitied, and that now
Was, so she feared, infringement of her vow:
James too was civil, though she must confess
That his was not her kind of happiness:
That he would shoot the man who shot a hare,
Was what her timid conscience could not bear;
But still she loved him — wondered where he strayed
In this loud night, and if he were afraid.

More than one hour she thought, and, dropping then
In sudden sleep, cried loudly, " Spare him, men!
And do no murder! " — then awaked she rose,
And thought no more of trying for repose.

'Twas past the dead of night, when every sound
That nature mingles might be heard around;
But none from man, — man's feeble voice was hushed,
Where rivers swelling roared, and woods were crushed;
Hurried by these, the wife could sit no more,
But must the terrors of the night explore.

Softly she left her door, her garden gate,
And seemed as then committed to her fate:
To every horrid thought and doubt a prey,
She hurried on, already lost her way:
Oft as she glided on in that sad night,
She stopped to listen, and she looked for light;
An hour she wandered, and was still to learn
Aught of her husband's safety or return:
A sudden break of heavy clouds could show
A place she knew not, but she strove to know:
Still further on she crept with trembling feet,
With hope a friend, with fear a foe to meet;
And there was something fearful in the sight
And in the sound of what appeared to-night;
For now, of night and nervous terror bred,
Arose a strong and superstitious dread;
She heard strange noises, and the shapes she saw
Of fancied beings bound her soul in awe.

The moon was risen, and she sometimes shone
Through thick white clouds, that flew tumultuous on,
Passing beneath her with an eagle's speed,
That her soft light imprisoned and then freed:
The fitful glimmering through the hedge-row green
Gave a strange beauty to the changing scene;
And roaring winds and rushing waters lent
Their mingled voice that to the spirit went.

To these she listened; but new sounds were heard,
And sight more startling to her soul appeared;
There were low lengthened tones with sobs between,
And near at hand, but nothing yet was seen;
She hurried on, and " Who is there? " she cried, —
" A dying wretch! " was from the earth replied.

It was her lover — was the man she gave,
The price she paid, himself from death to save;
With whom, expiring, she must kneel and pray,
While the soul flitted from the shivering clay
That pressed the dewy ground, and bled its life away!
This was the part that duty bade her take,
Instant and ere her feelings were awake;
But now they waked to anguish: there came then,
Hurrying with lights, loud-speaking, eager men.

" And here, my lord, we met — And who is here?
The keeper's wife! — Ah! woman, go not near!
There lies the man who was the head of all —
See, in his temples went the fatal ball!
And James that instant, who was then our guide,
Felt in his heart the adverse shot, and died!
It was a sudden meeting, and the light
Of a dull moon made indistinct our fight;
He foremost fell! — But see, the woman creeps
Like a lost thing, that wanders as she sleeps.
See, here her husband's body — but she knows
That other dead, and that her action shows.
Rachel! why look you at your mortal foe?
She does not hear us — Whither will she go? "

Now, more attentive, on the dead they gazed,
And they were brothers: sorrowing and amazed,
On all a momentary silence came,
A common softness, and a moral shame.

" Seized you the poachers? " said my lord. — " They fled,
And we pursued not — one of them was dead,
And one of us: they hurried through the wood,
Two lives were gone, and we no more pursued.
Two lives of men, of valiant brothers, lost!
Enough, my lord, do hares and pheasants cost! "

So many thought, and there is found a heart
To dwell upon the deaths on either part;
Since this their morals have been more correct,
The cruel spirit in the place is checked;
His lordship holds not in such sacred care,
Nor takes such dreadful vengeance for a hare;
The smugglers fear, the poacher stands in awe
Of Heaven's own act, and reverence the law;
There was, there is, a terror in the place
That operates on man's offending race;
Such acts will stamp their moral on the soul,
And, while the bad they threaten and control,
Will to the pious and the humble say,
Yours is the right, the safe, the certain way;
'Tis wisdom to be good, 'tis virtue to obey.

So Rachel thinks, the pure, the good, the meek,
Whose outward acts the inward purpose speak;
As men will children at their sports behold,
And smile to see them, though unmoved and cold,
Smile at the recollected games, and then
Depart and mix in the affairs of men:
So Rachel looks upon the world, and sees
It cannot longer pain her, longer please,
But just detain the passing thought, or cause
A gentle smile of pity or applause;
And then the recollected soul repairs
Her slumbering hope, and heeds her own affairs.