Louisa: A Poetical Novel. Third Epsitle. Poem by Anna Seward

O THOU soft Hope, that once with lustre gay
Didst gild the hours of Love's delicious day!
What, though no more the lively joy remains,
That trac'd thy light step o'er these earthly plains,
Yet, piercing now Despair's incumbent shroud,
Soft Hope, thou lookest from yon parting cloud;
And my lov'd EMMA'S hand the vision shews,
That smiles my struggling Spirit to repose!
Bright in EUGENIO'S vindicated truth,
That vision lights anew my drooping youth;
Since, in perspective beauteous, it displays
A long eternity of blissful days;
Of all those sacred joys our Souls shall prove,
'When pleading Seraphs reunite our love.'


'Tis true, EUGENIO , through Life's thorny way,
In far divided paths our steps shall stray;
It is not given us, when rude blasts assail,
And pale Misfortune breathes the bitter gale,
It is not given, to temper, and assuage,
Each for the other's breast, its cruel rage;
Nor mutually to feel the cheering rays,
When Health, and Joy, inspirit Summer-days.
Our little Barks, their flattering Port in view,
Fate, on Life's billowy surge, asunder threw;
Friend of my soul! we are not doom'd to gain
The sunny Isle of that tempestuous Main;
But Oh! thy Virtue, long imagin'd lost,
Has felt the wreck of no insidious coast!
The deep and troubled floods, it knew to brave!
It rises buoyant on the stormy wave!
Vain are those Storms, by which its course is driven,
Since sure, though distant, is the port of Heaven.


My dear EUGENIO , the dread Voice will prove
Indulgent to the frail excess of Love,
Which to such sad extremes would blindly run,
Lavish of health, and sickening at the Sun;
Since, while an unaccusing Conscience threw
Th' eternal portals open to my view,
My Spirit sunk, a prey to fond Despair,
And coldly view'd that Heaven thou could'st not share;
Soil'd with its griefs those amaranthine flowers,
Inwove by Faith in bright Religion's bowers.
Angel of Mercy! thou wilt gently breathe.
Exhaling sighs upon that sullied wreath;
And the dim stains of my impatient tears,
Impassion'd yearnings, and desponding fears,
Shall vanish, as chill dews that Morning throws,
By Summer Winds are wasted from the Rose!


Oh! how o'er-joy'd my dazzled sight survey'd
These words, in EMMA'S characters pourtray'd,
'He is not guilty!'--rapid from my tongue
They, in exulting iteration, sprung.
'Read, dear LOUISA , and acquit the Heart
'That bears in all thy griefs so large a Part.'


Think'st thou, my EMMA , thy benign command
Met an unwilling eye, a tardy hand?
Heaven! with what force these hands, these eyes, impell'd,
Seize the known characters, so long with-held!
While every letter, ere examin'd, wears
Th' uninjured magic of the vanish'd years!
Disorder'd sounds my lips pronounce, nor spare
The useless question to th' unconscious air.
'Does that dear hand yet trace LOUISA'S name?
'Will it his Love, his Innocence proclaim?
'How may this be?--yet EMMA says 'tis so.'
Then did I read, and weep, and throb, and glow,
Approve, absolve, admire, and smile, and sigh,
Till pensive Peace shone mildly in my eye;
Back with that lost esteem, my heart deplor'd,
The Wanderer came, with half her rights restor'd.


So luckless CLAIRMONT'S thorny path she smooths;
So his sharp sense of many an ill she sooths;
One dear recover'd Hope his grief beguiles,
And, 'midst the wreck of all the rest, he smiles.
EMMA , thou knew'st him well;--the jocund Youth,
Ambition's Votary, yet of taintless truth.
Lur'd by the wealth the glowing Andes hide,
He long'd to pass the interposing tide.
Remembrance sees him on the Sea-beach stand,
His fair CLARISSA weeping on his hand.
With anxious smiles her varying cheek he dries,
And talks of prosperous Winds, and favoring Skies.
Clear was the Sky, and gentle were the Gales,
And wide and waving stream'd the snowy Sails;
While, tossing the green sea-weed o'er, and o'er,
Crept the hush'd billow on the shelly shore;
Soft as th' autumnal breeze among the sheaves,
Or gently rustling in the fallen leaves;
And rolling in blue Light thy watery Way
With frosted silver seem'd bedropt, and gay.


Impatient CLAIRMONT led his pensive Bride,
As slow she scal'd the Vessel's stately side.
So smooth the Seas, the tall Bark seem'd to sleep,
While her gay Pennants ting'd the glassy Deep.
Day after Day mild Breezes freshen'd round,
Till Skies alone the mighty Waters bound.


But now, far distant from Britannia's shore,
Round craggy Steeps where angry billows roar,
Rise the dark Winds!--and borne on flagging wing,
On the bent mast the screaming Fulmars cling!
And soon the fury of the wildest Storm
That could the vext and swelling Sea deform,
With Death's shrill voice, shrieks in the rending shrouds,
As whirls the dizzy Vessel to the clouds;
Or prone shoots swiftly to the billowy vale,
While the wet Seaman's altering cheek is pale.


The whirling Ship the guiding Rudder mocks,
It strikes!--it bursts upon the bulging Rocks!
Unhappy CLAIRMONT , who had vainly tried
In the toss'd Boat to place his beauteous Bride,
Sees on the deck, pale, trembling, as she stood,
The sudden Billow dash her to the Flood;
While on the riven plank himself convey'd,
With only Life, beneath a stranger Shade,
Wakes from the briny trance, and wakes to know,
Of Fate's dark stores, the most accomplish'd Woe!
Borne by a friendly Sail, that now he stands
A ruin'd Wanderer on his native Lands,
Seems little;--Love's severer tortures reign
With force despotic, and exclusive pain.


This borne, from month to month, and year to year,
At length unlook'd-for tidings charm his ear;
His fair CLARISSA lives!--on coasts unknown
Wreck'd, like himself, unfriended and alone,
By destiny severe, an hapless Slave,
Pines on rude shores beyond th' Atlantic wave;
Yet, that she lives is so unhop'd a joy!--
Before it Doubt, and Fear, and Anguish fly!
She lives!--and Fate may aid the ardent strife,
And to his arms restore his long-lost Wife!
In that dear hope pale Misery's tortures cease,
And agony subsides almost to peace.


So I--but to EUGENIO swift impart
How full the pardon of LOUISA'S heart!
Oh! let him not repent he wrung her Mind
With fruitless woes, so generously design'd;
Since, though they fail'd her freedom to restore,
Had she not long been destin'd to deplore
His Mind, as cruel, venal, false, and vain--
O but for that!--the Soul-distracting pain,
Whose unexpected flight makes other grief
Sink in the softness of that blest relief,
Her Spirit ne'er, as now, had risen above
The poignant woes of disappointed Love;
Of that disunion here, stern Fate commands,
Who throws her edicts with such ruthless hands!
But greater Ills remov'd, the less remain
Shorn of their pointed stings, and lost their bane.
Say, in LOUISA'S breast no longer glow
The inward fires of life-consuming Woe;
Distant alike from Pain's incumbent gloom,
And sprightly Pleasure's gaily-kindling bloom,
The vital Powers effuse a softer flame,
And with serener beams pervade her Frame.
Oh, bid him live!--live, to fulfil each part
That makes such awful claims upon his heart;
And as an Husband, as a Father, prove
Virtuous, and great, as in his filial love!


I too shall live!--Health's warmer currents break,
Yet unconfirm'd, upon my faded cheek:
Last Night their honey'd dews prolong'd my rest,
As soft they sprung within my cherish'd breast.
O Night! the first exempt from wildest throes
Of fever'd Pain, that chas'd the short repose,
Since my EUGENIO'S seeming coldness strove,
Alas! how much in vain! to quench my Love.
Yes, I shall live to expiate by a Mind
Bow'd to its fate, and cheerfully resign'd,
The dangerous rashness, which my peace had thrown
On human chance, and errors not my own.


Here, to my favorite bower, at rising Day,
With tranquil step, I bent my purpos'd way;
For here I first beheld the graceful Youth,
And here he promis'd everlasting truth;
And here, to thee, my Friend, I us'd to grieve,
When Life could charm no more, nor Hope deceive;
And here, my long afflicted Spirit, freed
From that barb'd shaft, on which it wont to bleed,
Now bids its soften'd feelings gently flow
To her, who draws the deadly sting of Woe.


Once more these eyes, with smiles of pleasure hail
The vernal beauties of my native Vale;
The plenteous dews, that in the early ray
Gem the light leaf, and tremble on the spray;
The fresh cool gales, that undulating pass,
With shadowy sweep, along the bending grass.--
Now throw the shrubs and trees the lengthen'd shade
On the smooth turf distinct!--and now they fade,
As sinks the Sun, behind a cloud withdrawn,
That late unveil'd shone yellow on the lawn.
Soft o'er the Vale, from this my favorite seat,
Serene I mark the vagrant beauties fleet;
In different lights the changing features trace,
Catch the bright form, and paint the shadowy grace.
Where the light Ash, and browner Oak extend,
And high in Air their mingled branches bend,
The mossy bank, beneath their trembling bowers,
Arises, fragrant with uncultur'd flowers,
That stoop the sweet head o'er the latent spring,
And bear the pendant Bees, that humming cling.
Just gleams the Fount--for, curving o'er it's brink,
The lengthen'd grass the shining Waters drink;
Their green arms half its glassy beauties hide,
As from beneath them steals the wandering tide,
And down the Valley careless winds away,
While in its streams the glancing Sun-beams play.


But where the Greenwood-hill, with arching shade,
Opes the light Vista up the winding Glade,
I see a venerable Form descend;
His slow steps falter as they hither bend.
Soft lifts the breeze the locks of silver grey,
And gentlest meanings his mild looks convey!
Stranger, whoe'er thou art, thy faded face
And bending form have many a touching grace.
He stops!--I hasten to explore the cause
Of that fix'd gaze!--of that impassion'd pause!