Sure these were sights to tempt an anchorite!
What! do I hear thy slender voice complain?
Thou wailest when I talk of beauty's light,
As if it brought the memory of pain;
Thou art a wayward being-well-come near,
And pour thy tale of sorrow in my ear.
What say'st thou, slanderer!-rouge makes thee sick? And China Bloom at best is sorry
And Rowland's Kalydor, if laid on thick,
Poisons the thirsty wretch that bores for blood?
Go! 't was a just reward that met thy crime-
But shun the sacrilege another time.
That bloom was made to look at-not to touch;
To worship-not approach-that radiant white;
And well might sudden vengeance light on such
As dared, like thee, most impiously to bite.
Thou should'st have gazed at distance, and admired-
Murmured thy admiration, and retired.
Thou 'rt welcome to the town-but why come here
To bleed a brother poet, gaunt like thee?
Alas! the little blood I have is dear,
And thin will be the banquet drawn from me.
Look round-the pale-eyed sisters in my cell,
Thy old acquaintance, song and famine, dwell.
Try some plump alderman, and suck the blood
Enriched by generous wine and costly meat;
On well-filled skins, sleek as thy native mud,
Fix thy light pump, and press thy freckled feet:
Go to the men for whom, in ocean's halls,
The oyster breeds, and the green turtle sprawls.
There corks are drawn, and the red vintage flows,
To fill the swelling veins for thee, and now
The ruddy cheek, and now the ruddier nose
Shall tempt thee, as thou flittest round the brow;
And when the hour of sleep its quiet brings,
No angry hand shall rise to brush thy wings.
WHY am I thus? the maniac cried,
Confined 'mid crazy people? Why?
I am not mad-knave, stand aside!
I'll have my freedom, or I'll die;
It's not for cure that here I've come;
I tell thee, all I want is rum-
I must have rum!
Sane? yes, and have been all the while;
Why, then, tormented thus? 'Tis sad:
Why chained, and held in duress vile?
The men who brought me here were mad;
I will not stay where specters come;
Let me go home: I must have rum—
I must have rum!
'Tis he! 'tis he! my aged sire!
What has disturbed thee in thy grave?
Why bend on me that eye of fire?
Why torment, since thou canst not save?
Back to the church-yard whence you've come!
Return, return! but send me rum-—
O, send me rum!
Why is my mother musing there,
On that same consecrated spot,
Where once she taught me words of prayer?
But now she hears, she heeds me not.
Mute in her winding-sheet she stands;
Cold, cold, I feel her icy hands—
Her icy hands!
She's vanished; but a dearer friend,
I know her by her angel smile,
Has come her partner to attend,
His hours of misery to beguile;
Haste! haste! loved one, and set me free;
'T were heaven to 'scape from hence to thee
From hence to thee.
She does not hear; away she flies,
Regardless of the chain I wear,
Back to her mansion in the skies,
To dwell with kindred spirits there.
Why has she gone?
O God, I'm ruined!
Why did she come?
Give me rum!
Hark! hark! for bread my children cry,
A cry that drinks my spirits up;
But 'tis in vain, in vain to try;
O give me back the drunkard's cup!
My lips are parched, my heart is sad;
This cursed chain! 't will make me mad-
'T will make me mad!
It wont wash out, that crimson stain!
I've scoured those spots, and made them white; Blood reappears again, again,
Soon as the morning brings the light!
When from my sleepless couch I come,
To see-to feel-O give me rum!
I must have rum!
'Twas there I heard his piteous cry,
And saw his last imploring look,
But steeled my heart, and bade him die,
Then from him golden treasures took;
Accursed treasure! stinted sum!
Reward of guilt! Give, give me rum—
O, give me rum !
Hark! still I hear that piteous wail;
Before my eyes his specter stands;
And when it frowns on me I quail!
O, I would fly to other lands!
But, that pursuing, there 't would come;
There's no escape! O, give me rum—
O, give me rum!
Guard, guard those windows! bar that door!
Yonder I arméd bandits see!
They've robbed my house of all its store,
And now return to murder me;
They 're breaking in! do n't let them come!
Drive, drive them hence! but give me rum!
O, give me rum!
I stake again? not I; no more,
Heartless, accurséd gamester, no!
I staked with thee my all before,
And from thy den a beggar go!
Go where? A suicide to hell!
And leave my orphan children here,
In rags and wretchedness to dwell,
A doom their father can not bear.
Will no one pity? no one come?
Not thou; O come not, man of prayer! Shut that dread volume in thy hand;
For me damnation 's written there-
No drunkard can in judgment stand!
Talk not of pardon there revealed;
No, not to me, it is too late;
My sentence is already sealed;
Tears never blot the book of fate;
Too late, too late these tidings come;
There is no hope! O give me rum!
I must have rum!
See how that rug those reptiles soil!
They're crawling o'er me in my bed!
I feel their clammy, snaky coil
On every limb-around my head;
With forked tongue I see them play;
I hear them hiss-tear them away!
Tear them away!
A fiend! a fiend! with many a dart,
Glares on me with his blood-shot eye,
And aims his missiles at my heart,-
O, whither, whither shall I fly!
Fly? no, it is no time for flight!
Fiend! I know thy hellish purpose well!
Avaunt, avaunt, thou hated sprite,
And hie thee to thy native hell!
He's gone! he's gone! and I am free;
He's gone, the faithless, braggart liar
He said he'd come to summon me-
See there again, my bed 's on fire!
Fire! water! help! O haste, I die!
The flames are kindling round my head!
This smoke!-I'm strangling!-can not fly!
O, snatch me from this burning bed!
There, there again! that demon's there,
Crouching to make a fresh attack;
See how his flaming eye-balls glare!
Thou fiend of fiends, what's brought thee back?
Back in thy car? for whom? for where?
He smiles, he beckons me to come;
What are those words thou 'st written there ?—
"In hell they never want for rum!”
Not want for rum? Read that again!
I feel the spell! haste, drive me down
Where rum is free, where revelers reign,
And I can wear the drunkard's crown.
Accept thy proffer, fiend? I will,
And to thy drunken banquet come;
Fill the great cauldron from thy still
With boiling, burning, fiery rum ;
There will I quench this horrid thirst,
With boon companions drink and dwell,
Nor plead for rum, as here I must-
There's liberty to drink in hell!
Thus raved that maniac rum had made;
Then starting from his haunted bed,
On, on! ye demons, on! he said,
Then silent sunk-his soul had fled.
Scoffer, beware! he in that shroud,
Was once a temperate drinker, too!
Ex. CXXX.-BERNARDO DEL CARPIO.
THE warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire,
And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire; "I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive train, I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord!-Oh! break my father's chain !"
"Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man, this day!
Mount thy good horse; and thou and I will meet him on his way."
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