He went, like one that hath been stunned
And is of sense forlorn :
A sadder and a wiser man
Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale
My husband's father told it me,
Poor old Leoni !-Angels rest his soul!
He was a woodman, and could fell and saw
With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel; Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree,
He found a baby wrapt in mosses lined
With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home And reared him at the then Lord Velez' cost.
A pretty boy, but most unteachable
And so the babe grew up a pretty boy,
And never learnt a prayer nor told a head,
But knew the names of birds, and mocked their notes,
And whistled, as he were a bird himself: And all the Autumn 'twas his only play
To gather seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them, With earth and water, on the stumps of trees.
A friar, who sought for simples in the wood, A grey-haired man-he loved this little boy,
The boy loved him—and, when the friar taught him, He soon could write with the pen; and from that time Lived chiefly at the convent or the castle.
So he became a very learned youth.
But, Oh! poor wretch-he read, and read, and read, Till his brain turned-and ere his twentieth year He had unlawful thoughts of many things : And though he prayed, he never loved to pray With holy men, nor in a holy place- But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet, The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him. And once, as by the north side of the chapel They stood together, chained in deep discourse, The earth heaved under them with such a groan, That the wall tottered, and had well-nigh fallen Right on their heads. My Lord was sorely frightened; A fever seized him, and he made confession
Of all the heretical and lawless talk
Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seized And cast into that cell. My husband's father Sobbed like a child-it almost broke his heart: And once as he was working near the cell He heard a voice distinctly; 'twas the youth's Who sang a doleful song about green fields, How sweet it were on lake or wild savannah, To hunt for food, and be a naked man, And wander up and down at liberty. Leoni doted on the youth, and now
His love grew desperate; and defying death, He made that cunning entrance I described, And the young man escaped.
With those bold voyagers who made discovery Of golden lands. Leoni's younger brother Went likewise; and when he returned to Spain, He told Leoni, that the poor mad youth, Soon after they arrived in that new world, In spite of his dissuasion, seized a boat, And, all alone, set sail by silent moonlight Up a great river, great as any sea,
And ne'er was heard of more: but 'tis supposed He lived and died among the savage men.
ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND; IN ANSWER TO A MELANCHOLY LETTER.
Away, those cloudy looks, that lab'ring sigh,
The peevish offspring of a sickly hour!
Nor meanly thus complain of Fortune's pow'r, When the blind gamester throws a luckless die.
Yon setting sun flashes a mournful gleam Behind those broken clouds, his stormy train; To-morrow shall the many colour'd main
In brightness roll beneath his orient beam!
Wild, as th' Autumnal gust, the hand of Time Flies o'er his mystic lyre: in shadowy dance Th' alternate groups of joy and grief advance Responsive to his varying strains sublime!
Bears on its wing each hour a load of fate. The swain, who, lull'd by Seine's mild murmurs, led His weary oxen to their nightly shed,
To-day may rule a tempest-troubled state.
Nor shall not Fortune, with a vengeful smile, Survey the sanguinary despot's might,
And haply hurl the pageant from his height, Unwept, to wander in some savage isle.
There shiv'ring sad, beneath the tempest's frown, Round his tir'd limbs to wrap the purple vest; And mix'd with nails and beads, an equal jest! Barter for food, the jewels of his crown.
WRITTEN AFTER A WALK BEFORE SUPPER.
Tho' much averse, dear Jack, to flicker, To find a likeness for friend V-ker, I've made, thro' earth, and air, and sea, A voyage of discovery!
And let me add (to ward off strife)
For V-kers, and for V-ker's wifeShe large and round, beyond belief,
A superfluity of beef!
Her mind and body of a piece,
And both compos'd of kitchen-grease. In short, dame Truth might safely dub her Vulgarity enshrin'd in blubber!
He, meagre bit of littleness,
All snuff, and musk, and politesse ; So thin, that strip him of his clothing, He'd totter on the edge of nothing! In case of foe, he well might hide Snug in the collops of her side. Ah then what simile will suit? Spindle leg in great jack-boot? Pismire crawling in a rut? Or a spigot in a butt?
Thus I humm'd and ha'd awhile
When Madam Memory, with a smile,
Thus touch'd my ear-" Why sure, In London streets thou oft hast seen The very image of this pair:
A little ape, with huge she bear Link'd by hapless chain together: An unlick'd mass the one-the other An antic huge with nimble crupper
But stop, my Muse! for here comes supper.
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