FullReads

Part the First

I.

“WHERE shall I hide myself?–
Lost and undone!–
A beggar–an outcast–
Insulting the Sun!
Oh! Yesterday vanished!
How lovely wert thou;–
The hope in my spirit,
The pride on my brow,
The firm self-reliance
My guardian and friend,
The courage unyielding
That Fate could not bend;
Were mine to support me;–
Oh! Yesterday fair!
Come back, oh come back to me,
Free from despair!
To-day is relentless,
My judge and my foe;–
And misery tracks me,
Wherever I go.
My temples are throbbing
With sin unforgiven;
Men shall not pity me!
Pity me, Heaven!”

II.

Down came the drenching rain,
Beating the window-pane.
Hoarsely the rusty vane,
Groan’d to the blast;–
Few in the dreary street.
Plodded with weary feet;–
He, through the piercing sleet
Shadow-like passed.
The lamps shook and stagger’d,
And creak’d to the wind;
And each on the pavement
Threw trailing behind,
A flickering beam,
As of fire on a stream,
Or torch of the Sprite,
That dances o’er stagnant pools
Cheating belated fools,
Roaming at night.

III.

Under the doorways.
Screened from the weather,
Desolate women stood
Crouching together;
They, as he passed them.
Wondered, and gazed;–
Said one to the other,
“He raves, he is crazed!–
Something has troubled him,–
Hark how he moans!
But why should we pity him
Here on the stones?
And yet who can help it?
Do you–if you can;–
I’d trample on Sorrow
If I were a man.
Men have no misery
Equal to ours!”
He saw not–he heard not–
Poor way-trodden flowers,
Your pity escaped him!
His world was within;–
A world–or a chaos–
Of anguish and sin.
The rain and the tempest
Were cool to his cheek,
Balm to his throbbing brow,–
Hark! did he speak?
“Madness broods over me!
Kind-hearted Death–
Canst thou not shelter me?
Vain is my breath!
Take it and welcome–
And low let me lie;
Low in the quiet grave;
Deep in the doleful wave;
Weary of living,
Unworthy to die.”

IV.

Down came the drenching rain,
Bubbling and swelling–
Fierce blew the gusty wind,
Roaring and yelling.
The senate was silent,
Its orators fled,
The ball-room was empty,
Its roses were dead.
Listless or half awake
Through the dull town,
Fashion rode homewards
In ermine and down;–
Fashion and Beauty
All jaded and wan;
Fast through the tempest
The steeds gallop’d on.
Fire from their clanging hoofs
Heavily shod
‘Mid the black rain pools
Flashed where they trod.
Indolent Fashion,
Weary and warm.
Saw from its chariot
That desolate form.
Beating its rapid way
Deaf to the storm:
“Mad!” said the Countess,
“Of drink!” said the Earl;–
“Or love!”said his daughter fair–
Twisting her flaxen hair
Back into curl.

V.

Pass, sleepy Luxury!
Pass on your way!–
You know not the wretchedness
Born every day.
High on life’s summit
In sunshine and snow,
You hear not the torrents
That thunder helow.
Pass! he regards you not!
Sees not, nor hears;
The roar of your burning wheels
Frets not his ears.
His senses are absent
In worlds of his own–
In deserts of agony
Lost and alone.