NOT in a verdant varying vale,
Not shelter’d by a wood,
Not sweetly fann’d by zephyr’s gale,
Or margin’d by a flood,
Whose gentle stream meand’ring flow’d
Clear as the mirror’s glare,
And, by reflection, plainly show’d
Each form which wander’d there;
But Donald’s habitation stood
Near rocks, whose tow’ring height
Seem’d form’d primeval with the flood,
So firmly fix’d their might.
No placid rivulet was near
That bleak, that drear abode;
The gloomy cypress here, and there,
Proclaim’d the footstepp’d road
Which led to Donald’s dreary den–
For such I might it call–
As there the busy hum of men
Ne’er echo’d, through the hall!
Silence, and Solitude, proclaim’d
The master’s turn of mind;
Yet Donald’s name had once been fam’d
For noble deeds–and kind.
But treach’ry harden’d Donald’s breast;
Treach’ry of deepest dye—-
A friend depriv’d his soul of rest,
And dimm’d his lust’rous eye.
A friend!–blasphemy to a name
Which spotless Seraphs bear!
A friend it was, who, lost to shame,
Drove Donald to despair.
Donald, the Chief of a proud clan,
Whose castle’s tow’r’d the Clyde;
And whose domain extended ran
Along that river’s side.
Yet not of wealth or titles proud,
But of those noble deeds
Which time itself can never shroud,
Or veil like widow’s weeds!
In feats of valour he had shone;
Fame had those feats proclaim’d;
But his sun set, alas! at noon,
And ‘velop’d him in shade.
Douglass, and Donald, long were friends,
Each fought on virtue’s side;
Donald on Douglass oft depends,
And makes his will, a guide.
A treach’rous guide, a subtle foe,
Who, with insidious art,
Instill’d a poison deep, yet slow;
Which touch’d a noble heart.
Jessey and Donald were a pair
Unmatch’d–unheard–unseen!
She was the fairest of the fair;
He–of unequall’d mien!
Mars scarcely mov’d with equal grace;
Apollo’s lute his voice;
Adonis’ not so fine a face;
Such–was fair Jessey’s choice.
If Donald might with Mars compare,
With Venus Jessey strove;
Not Helen, that fam’d Grecian fair,
Seem’d form’d like her–for love!
Her roseate lip, her blooming cheek,
Her eye of azure blue,
Did not the pow’r of love bespeak
In language half so true:
For modesty bestow’d a grace,
A charm almost divine,–
Which, Helen, beam’d not in thy face,
But, Jessey,–shone in thine.
No wanton look; no luring glare;
In Jessey’s eye was seen;
She seem’d to shun the broad, bold stare,
And wish to bloom unseen.
The din of arms had ceas’d to sound,
The trumpet’s voice was mute;
And Jessey sweet enjoyment found
In Donald’s tuneful flute.
Attention mark’d her speaking eye,
As o’er the strain she hung;
And bliss inspir’d a feeling sigh,
When Donald play’d or sung!
Douglass attended to the sound,
And saw the bliss inspir’d;
He mark’d each gaze with look profound
Each gaze–his bosom fir’d,
With passion,–fiend-like as the heart
From whence that passion flow’d,
He form’d his plans with subtle art,
Whilst pure esteem he show’d:
For Donald, when retir’d from arms,
Ask’d Douglass to his house,
To spend some months in rural charms,
And see his lovely spouse.
The sword , then to the ploughshare turn’d,
The spear into the prune;
And Donald husbandry had learn’d
In the preceding June.
Douglass pretended to enjoy
Pleasure from rural sports;
Weaving a web that should destroy
Bliss seldom known in Courts!–
Long, long, had Jessey been assail’d
By Donald’s treach’rous friend;
But though his ev’ry scheme had fail’d,
Yet still he would depend
Upon that pride which women feel
When husbands faithless prove:
And there, with venom’d aspine steel,
He poison’d Jessey’s love!
A tale, maliciously untrue ,
He whisper’d in her ears;
But, Jessey, may each fair by you
Be caution’d how she hears,
Or listens to, a treach’rous tale
Against the man whose name
Should reach her ears through plaudit’s gale,
Proclaiming worth and fame!
For jealousy, when once inspir’d,
Is not to be repress’d;
It burns with fury, when its fir’d,
Like a volcano’s breast.
And Jessey’s gentle bosom felt
That fierce volcanic fire;
A bosom Nature form’d to melt
And soothe each rough desire.
Swift, swift the progress from the road
Of virtue, if we stray;
And few–if any–who have trod,
Return’d the perfect way.
This dang’rous path did Jessey tread;
Jessey, once pure as fair;
Whilst retrospective horror spread
A veil of black despair!
“Oh, Douglass! causer of my woes,”
(In frantic grief she cried,)
“Shield me beneath the Alpine snows,
Or in some cavern hide
“Me from Donald’s piercing eye,
Which, sure, must read my shame!
To the remotest realm I’d fly,
To hide my perjur’d name!
“Wretch that I am! disgrac’d and lost ,
By varying passions torn;
My mind, like raging billows toss’d,
Hopeless! distress’d! forlorn!”
“Fly, my belov’d!” (Douglass exclaim’d,
And clasp’d her to his breast
“Let but the spot of earth be nam’d
Where Jessey seeks for rest:
“Not Afric’s sun, or Alpine snow,
Should e’er retard my flight;
With thee, contented would I go,
Thinking each danger light!
“My Jessey’s spotless form would prove
A guardian angel’s light !”—-
“Stop! Douglass, stop!” reply’d his love,
“Virtue alone –shines bright!
“But me, degen’rate and forlorn,
Detesting ev’n myself;
I rue the day that I was born,
Endow’d with charms and health!”
The plan of flight was soon arrang’d,
To distant realms they flew;
And Jessey from her lord estrang’d,
Jessey, once fond and true!
But who shall paint her lord’s distress?
Or tell the horrid tale,
Which whisp’ring rumours soon express
On aggravation’s gale?
He heard she fled–and by consent;–
With rapid force and speed;
He heard it as he homeward bent,
And found her gone, indeed!
His infant Jessey tearful ran,
And met him at the door;
“Mamma is gone!” the child began,
“And will not see us more!”
“Not see us more!” Donald reply’d,
Tortur’d with fresh alarms;
He groan’d–he wept–he rav’d–and sigh’d–
Then press’d her in his arms.
“Oh, hapless innocent!” he cry’d,
“Forsaken and forlorn;
Would but to Heav’n I had died,
E’er thou–dear babe, wast born!
“For now thou chain’st me to this earth;
Thou art a pow’rful tie;
Yet, as I gavest thee thy birth,
For thee–I will not die!”
Grief, indignation, and despair,
Tortur’d his manly breast;
Quick he pursu’d the treach’rous fair,
Who robb’d his soul of rest.
Douglass nor Jessey could be trac’d;
Half o’er the globe he flew;
When homeward he return’d disgrac’d,
He scarce young Jessey knew.
Thrice had the sun its circuit ran,
Or thrice the earth mov’d round,
When Donald, poor unhappy man,
Resought his native ground.
Unable to support the taunts
He fancied would be thrown,
He then resolv’d to seek some haunts
Where he could not be known.
Long did he seek–at length he found
A spot which charm’d his soul;
Sterility o’erspread the ground;
Rough winds–incessant howl!
Far as the eye extends its ken,
Rude rocks majestic rise,
An unfit spot for social men;
Yet thither Donald flies,
Attended by the lovely child,
Whose youthful joyous sports
Render’d the rocks a pleasing wild,
More pleasing far, than courts.
Remembrance never could recall
To Jessey other scenes;
Her father’s noble banner’d hall,
Or park of vary’d greens,
If e’er remember’d, soon appear’d
Like an illusive dream;
For Jessey’s childhood had been rear’d
Where pleasures–never beam.
To see the sea-fowl fly to rest,
To hear the billows roar,
Or sometimes for the kirk be drest,
Then stroll along the shore,
Was all of pleasure Jessey knew,
Yet Jessey was serene;
And as to womanhood she grew,
She rivall’d Beauty’s queen.
Grace in her step; love in her eye;
Contentment in her breast;
And but for Donald’s smother’d sigh,
Young Jessey had been bless’d.
Untutor’d she in worldly bliss;
Unskill’d in guile or art;
When Donald smiling gave a kiss,
Joy touch’d her tender heart.
She was, in fact, pure Nature’s child,
Yet might have grac’d a court;
Not rustically rude or wild,
But gentleness her forte.
Jessey at ev’ning oft would stray,
To mark the ebbing tide;
Whilst Cynthia lent her silv’ry ray,
To innocence–a guide!
One ev’ning, as she watch’d the tide,
A sudden storm appears;
Cynthia no longer prov’d a guide,
But darkness veil’d the spheres.
A vessel tow’ring on the waves
Drew near to Jessey’s coast;
It rises! sinks! rises! and laves!
Then seems for ever lost!
At length surmounting shoals and sands,
It gains the wish’d-for shore;
A female form descends–and lands
Amidst the billow’s roar!
Impervious as the rock she stood,
Fix’d was her azure eye;
When just emerging from the flood,
Jessey she chanc’d to spy.
“Your name, young lady? oh, declare;”
(She said in accents wild)—-
“Jessey;” reply’d the trembling fair—-
“Oh God!” she cry’d, “my child!”
Then with maternal transport prest
The maiden in her arms;
Alternate clasp’d her to her breast,
And gaz’d upon her charms.
Delighted gaz’d; then smiling wept;
And smiling, wept anew;
A soft sensation quickly crept
Through Jessey’s heart, which flew
Spontaneous to her lovely eyes,
And dimm’d them with soft tears,
More beauteous than the pearl of skies,
Which in the dew appears.
Donald began to think the fair
Unusual time had staid;
A thousand fears excited care,
Lest danger haunted shade:
Or that the lightning’s lurid glare
Had terror-struck her heart;
For though as innocent as fair,
She fear’d the rapid dart.
Donald, acquainted with the road
Jessey was prone to take,
Quitted his gloomy, drear abode,
For his lov’d daughter’s sake.
True did he mark the fair one’s race,
And drew to Jessey near,
Just as a mother’s fond embrace
Call’d forth the tender tear.
Eager amazement mark’d his eye
What mingled passions rise!
His lab’ring bosom heav’d a sigh
Of joy, distress, surprise!
He saw, he knew his long-lost love;
But ah! no longer pure:
No longer like a spotless dove;
Her frailty prov’d his cure!
“Jessey,” he said, in solemn tone,
“Say farewell to our dear!”
Yet whilst he spoke, the deep-drawn groan
Was follow’d by a tear.
“If poverty has been thy doom,
I will its cares remove;
But virtue in its op’ning bloom
Demands a father’s love;
“Demands his fond protecting care,
To shield it from all vice:
Contagion mixes in its air,
And females must be nice,
“If they would wish to save their fame
From Calumny’s foul breath;
And to preserve a spotless name
For Jessey–I’d brave death!
“Dreadful the tortures which I feel,
Whilst making this decree;
But for our daughter’s future weal,
This night she parts from thee.”
Appall’d the timid Jessey stood,
Gazing upon that form,
Preserv’d from the engulphing flood,
To brave a still worse storm.
Then falling prostrate on the ground,
“My father lov’d,” she cry’d,
“A mother I’ve this moment found
I always thought had died
“In giving birth to this frail form,
Which begs, intreats, implores!
Be not less piteous than the storm,
Or hard, like rocky shores!
“My mother’s faults may have been great,
But like a God, forgive;
Permit her but to share your fate,
And let your Jessey live!
“For ah! I feel to part is death!
Death to your darling child!”
As she said this, she gasp’d for breath,
Her lovely eyes look’d wild.
“Kill you, my life!” Donald exclaim’d,
Kill her my soul holds dear!
A savage fury would be tam’d,
Could he behold that tear!”
He clasp’d her to his throbbing breast,
Then turning to his wife,
“Jessey, forgive a mind distress’d,
And almost sick of life,
“The harsh expressions which I made,
Resentment now is o’er;
Severely, doubtless, you have paid
For quitting Albion’s shore.”
And now behold the trio rush
Into each other’s arms;
Whilst Donald saw the rising blush
Restore his Jessey’s charms:
Those charms rekindled that soft flame
Which once was Donald’s pride;
Yet still a feeling sense of shame
Induc’d him for to hide
Those charms within a drear abode;
There still his child confine,
Though form’d to tread life’s gayest road;
And in a court to shine.
Hear this, ye mothers! and beware
How ye support the name;
For if not virtuous as fair,
Your daughters feel the shame.
(Mary Hopkins Pilkington)
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