VI.

"O lonely beech, beneath whose bowering shade The tryst, encircling Paradise, was made, How the heart heard afar the hurrying feet, And swell'd to breathless words--'At last we meet!' But Autumn fades--dark Winter comes, and then Fate from Elysium calls me back to men; We part!--not equal is the anguish;--she Parts with all earth in that farewell to me; For not the grate more bars the veiled nun From the fair world with which her soul has done, Than love the heart, that vows, without recall, To one,--fame, honour, memory, hope, and all! But I!--behold me in the dazzling strife, The gaud, the pomp, the joyous roar of life,-- Man, with man's heart insatiate, ever stirr'd By the crowd's breath to conflict with the herd; Which never long one thought alone can sway,-- The dream fades from us when we leap to-day. New scenes surround me, new ambitions seize,-- All life one fever,--who defy disease?-- Each touch contagion:--living with the rest, The world's large pulse keeps time in every breast. Yet still for her--for her alone, methought, Its web of schemes the vulgar labour wrought: To ransom fate--to soar, from serfdom, free, Snap the strong chains of high-born penury; And, grown as bold to earth as to the skies, Proclaim the bliss of happy human ties:-- So, ever scheming, the soothed conscience deem'd! Fate smiled, and speeded all for which I schemed. My noble kinsman saw with grave applause My sober'd moods, too wise to guess the cause. ''Tis well,' said he, one evening; 'you have caught From me the ardour of the patriot's thought; No more distinguish'd in the modes of vice, Forsworn the race-course, and disdain'd the dice: A nobler race, a mightier game await The soul that sets its cast upon the state. Thoughtful, poor, calm, yet eager; such, in truth, He who is great in age should be in youth, Lo, your commencement!'

"And my kinsman set Before the eyes it brighten'd--the Gazette! Oh, how triumphant, Calendar of Fame! Halo'd in type, emerged the aspirant's name!

"'We send you second to a court, 'tis true; Small, as befits a diplomat so new,' Quoth my wise kinsman: 'but requiring all Your natural gifts;--to rise not is to fall! And harkye, stripling, you are handsome, young,

## Active, ambitious, and from statesmen sprung!

_Wed_ well--add wealth to power by me possess'd, And sleep on roses,--I will find the rest! But one false step,--pshaw, boy! I do not preach Of saws and morals, his own code to each,-- By one false step, I mean one foolish thing, And the wax melts, my Icarus, from your wing! Let not the heart the watchful mind betray,-- Enough!--no answer!--sail the First of May!'

"Here, then, from vapour broke at last the sun! Station, career, fame, fortune, all begun! Now, greater need than ever to conceal The secret spring that moved the speeding wheel; And half forgetting that I wish'd forgot, Each thought divides the absent from my lot. One night, escaped my kinsman's hall, which blazed With dames who smiled, and garter'd peers who praised, I seek my lonely home,--ascend the stair,-- Gain my dim room,--what stranger daunts me there? A grey old man!--I froze his look before; } The Gorgon's eye scarce fix'd its victim more,-- } The bride's sad father on the bridegroom's floor! } In the brief pause, how terrible and fast, As on the drowning seaman, rush'd the past! How had he learn'd my name,--abode,--the tie That bound?--for all spoke lightning in his eye. Lo, on the secret in whose darkness lay Power, future, fortune, pour'd the hateful ray! Thus silence ceased.

"'When first my home you deign'd To seek, what found you?--cheeks no tears had stain'd! Untroubled hearts, and conscience clear as day: And lips that loved, where now they fear, to pray: 'Twixt kin and kin, sweet commune undefiled-- The grateful father--the confiding child! What now that home?--behold! its change may speak In hair thus silver'd--in this furrow'd cheek! My child'--(he paused, and in his voice, not eyes, Tears seek the vent indignant pride denies) 'My child--God pardon me!--I was too proud To call her "daughter!"--what shall call the crowd? Man--man, she cowers beneath a Father's eye, And shuns his blessing--with one wish to die; And I that death-bed will resign'd endure If--speak the word--the soul that parts is pure?'

"'Who dares deny it?' I began, but check'd In the warm burst--cold wisdom hiss'd--'Reflect; Thy fears had outstripp'd truth--as yet unknown, The vows, the bond!--are these for thee to own?' The father mark'd my pause, and changing cheek, 'Go on!--why falter if the truth thou speak?' "Who dares deny it?"--Thou!--thy lip--thine eye-- Thy heart--thy conscience--_these_ are what deny? O Heaven, that I were not thy priest!'

"His look Grew stern and dark--the natural Adam shook The reverend form an instant;--like a charm The pious memory stay'd the lifted arm; And shrunk to self-rebuke the threatening word, 'Man's not my weapons--I thy servant, Lord!' Moved, I replied--'Could love suffice alone } In this hard world,--the love to thee made known, } A bliss to cherish, 'twere a pride to own: } And if I pause, and if I falter--yet I hide no shame, I strive with no regret. Believe mine honour--wait the ripening hour; Time hides the germ, the season brings the flower.' Wildly he cried--'What words are these?--but one Sentence I ask--her sire should call thee _son_! Hist, let the heavens but hear us!--in her life Another lives--if pure she is thy wife! Now answer!'

I had answer'd, as became The native manhood and the knightly name; But shall I own it? the suspicious chill, The world-wise know, froze up the arrested will. Whose but _her_ lips, sworn never to betray, Had fail'd their oath, and dragg'd my name to day? True, she had left the veil upon the shrine, But set the snare to make confession mine. Thus half resentment, half disdain, repell'd The man's frank justice, and the truth withheld. Yet, so invoked, I scorn'd at least the lie, And met the question with this proud reply:-- 'If thou dost doubt thy child, depart secure, My love is sinless, and her soul is pure. This by mine honour, and to Heaven, I swear! Dost thou ask more?--then bid thy child declare; What she proclaims as truth, myself will own; What she withholds, alike I leave unknown; What she demands, I am prepared to yield; Now doubt or spurn me--but my lips are seal'd.' I ceased, and stood with haughty mien and eye, That seem'd all further question to defy; He gazed, as if still spell'd in hope or fear, And hungering for the word that fail'd the ear. At last, and half unconscious, in the thrall Of the cold awe, he groan'd--

'And is this all? Courage, poor child--there may be justice yet-- Justice, Heaven, justice!'

With this doubtful threat He turn'd, was gone!--that look of stern despair, The uncertain footstep tottering down the stair, The clapping door; and then that void and chill, Which would be silence, were the conscience still; That sense of something gone, we would recall; The soul's dim stun before it feels its fall.