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And all that time, I gaz'd away,

Those fiends upon a shaking fen
The setting sun's sad rays were seen.

Fix'd me in dark tempestuous night;

There never trod the foot of men, At length a moment's sleep stole on,

There flock'd the fowl in wint’ry fight; Again came my commission'd foes;

There danc'd the moor's deceitful light, Again through sea and land we're gone,

Above the pool where sedges grow;
No peace, no respite, no repose:

And when the morning sun shone bright, Above the dark broad sea we rose,

It shone upon a field of snow.
We ran through bleak and frozen land;
I had no strength, their strength t'oppose,

They hung me on a bough, so small,
An infant in a giant's hand.

The rook could build her nest no higher;

They fix'd me on the trembling ball, They plac'd me where those streamers play,

That crowns the steeple's quiv'ring spire; Those nimble beams of brilliant light;

They set me where the seas retire, It would the stoutest heart dismay,

But drown with their returning tide; To see, to feel, that dreadful sight:

And made me flee the mountain's fire,
So swift, so pure, so cold, so bright,

When rolling from its burning side.
They pierc'd my frame with icy wound,
And all that half-year's polar night,

I've hung upon the ridgy steep
Those dancing streamers_wrapt me round.

Of cliffs, and held the rambling brier;

I've plung'd below the billowy deep,
Slowly that darkness pass'd away,

Where air was sent me to respire;
When down upon the earth I fell,--

I've been where hungry wolves retire; Some hurried sleep was mine by day;

And (to complete my woes) I've ran
But, soon as toll'd the evening bell,

Where Bedlam's crazy crew conspire
They forc'd me on, wherever dwell
Far-distant men in cities fair,

Against the life of reasoning man.
Cities of whom no trav’llers tell,

I've furl'd in storms the flapping sail,
Nor feet but mine were wanderers there.

By hanging from the top-mast-head;

I've serv'd the vilest slaves in jail, Their watchmen stare, and stand aghast,

And pick'd the dunghill's spoil for bread; As on we hurry through the dark;

I've made the badger's hole my bed,
The watch-light blinks, as we go past,

I've wander'd with a gipsy crew;
The watch-dog shrinks and fears to bark;

I've dreaded all the guilty dread,
The watch-tower's bell sounds shrill; and, hark !

And done what they would fear to do. The free wind blows-we've left the town A wide sepulchral ground I mark,

On sand where ebbs and flows the flood, And on a tombstone place me down.

Midway they plac'd and bade me die;

Propt on my staff, I stoutly stood What monuments of mighty dead!

When the swift waves came rolling by; What tombs of various kinds are found!

And high they rose, and still more high, And stones erect their shadows shed

Till my lips drank the bitter brine; On humble graves, with wickers bound;

I sobb'd convuls'd, then cast mine eye Some risen fresh, above the ground,

And saw the tide's re-flowing sign.
Some level with the native clay,
What sleeping millions wait the sound,

And then, my dreams were such as nought “Arise, ye dead, and come away!"

Could yield but my unhappy case;

I've been of thousand devils caught,
Alas! they stay not for that call;

And thrust into that horrid place,
Spare me this woe! ye Demons spare!

Where reign dismay, despair, disgrace; They come! the shrowded shadows all,

Furies with iron fangs were there, 'Tis more than mortal brain can bear;

To torture that accursed race, Rustling they rise, they sternly glare

Doom'd to dismay, disgrace, despair.
At man upheld by vital breath;
Who, led by wicked fiends, should dare

Harmless I was; yet hunted down
To join the shadowy troops of death!

For treasons, to my soul unfit;

I've been pursu'd through many a town, Yes! I have felt all man can feel,

For crimes that petty knaves commit; Till he shall pay his nature's debt;

I've been adjudg'd t' have lost my wit, Ills that no hope has strength to heal,

Because I preach'd so loud and well, No mind the comfort to forget:

And thrown into the dungeon's pit, Whatever cares the heart can fret,

For trampling on the pit of hell. the

temper gall, Woe, want, dread, anguish, all beset

Such were the evils, man of sin,
My sinful soul !-together all !

That I was fated to sustain;

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And add to all, without-within,

But old I wax and passing poor, A soul defil'd with every stain,

Stern, rugged men my conduct view,
That man's reflecting mind can pain;

They chide my wish, they bar my door,
That pride, wrong, rage, despair can make; 'Tis hard—I weep-you see I do.-
In fact, they'd nearly touch'd my brain,
And reason on her throne would shake.

Must you, my friends, no longer stay?

Thus quickly all my pleasures end! But pity will the vilest seek,

But I'll remember, when I pray, If punish'd guilt will not repine,

My kind physician and his friend; I heard a heavenly teacher speak,

And those sad hours, you deign to spend And felt the sun of mercy shine:

With me, I shall requite them all; I hail'd the light! the birth divine !

Sir Eustace for his friends shall send,
And then was seal'd among the few;

And thank their love at Greyling Hall.
Those angry fiends beheld the sign,
And from me in an instant flew.

Visitor.
Come hear how thus the charmers cry

The

poor Sir Eustace !-Yet his hope To wandering sheep, the strays of sin ;

Leads him to think of joys again; While some the wicket-gate pass by,

And when his earthly visions droop, And some will knock and enter in:

His views of heavenly kind remain:Full joyful 'tis a soul to win,

But whence that meek and humbled strain, For he that winneth souls is wise;

That spirit wounded, lost, resign'd; Now hark! the holy strains begin,

Would not so proud a soul disdain And thus the sainted preacher cries:

The madness of the poorest mind? “ Pilgrim, burthen’d with thy sin,

Physician. “ Come the way to Zion's gate, “ There, till mercy let thee in,

No! for the more he swell'd with pride, “ Knock and weep and watch and wait.

The more he felt misfortune's blow; “ Knock!-He knows the sinner's cry:

Disgrace and grief he could not hide, “ Weep!-He loves the mourner's tears:

And poverty had laid him low: “ Watch!—for saving grace is nigh:

Thus shame and sorrow working slow, “ Wait,-till heavenly light appears.

At length this humble spirit gave;

Madness on these began to grow, “ Hark! it is the bridegroom's voice;

And bound him to his fiends a slave. “ Welcome, pilgrim, to thy rest; “ Now within the gate rejoice,

Though the wild thoughts had touch'd his brain, “ Safe and seal'd and bought and blest !

Then was he free:-So, forth he ran; “ Safe_from all the lures of vice,

To soothe or threat, alike were vain: Seal'd-by signs the chosen know,

He spake of fiends; look'd wild and wan; Bought-by love, and life the price,

Year after year, the hurried man “ Blest—the mighty debt to owe.

Obey'd those fiends from place to place ;

Till his religious change began “ Holy Pilgrim! what for thee,

To form a frenzied child of grace. « In a world like this remain ? “ From thy guarded breast shall flee,

For, as the fury lost its strength, « Fear and shame and doubt and pain.

The mind repos'd; by slow degrees, “ Fear—the hope of Heaven shall fly, “ Shame—from glory's view retire,

Came lingering hope, and brought at length,

To the tormented spirit, ease: 66 Doubt-in certain rapture die, “ Pain-in endless bliss expire.”

This slave of sin, whom fiends could seize,

Felt or believ'd their power had end;But though my day of grace was come,

“ 'Tis faith,” he cried, “ my bosom frees, Yet still my days of grief I find;

“ And now my Saviour is my friend." The former clouds' collected gloom Still sadden the reflecting mind;

But ah! though time can yield relief, The soul, to evil things consign'd,

And soften woes it cannot cure; Will of their evil some retain;

Would we not suffer pain and grief, The man will seem to earth inclin'd,

To have our reason sound and sure? And will not look erect again.

Then let us keep our bosoms pure,

Our fancy's favourite flights suppress ;
Thus, though elect, I feel it hard,
To lose what I possess'd before,

Prepare the body to endure,
To be from all my wealth debarr'd,

And bend the mind to meet distress ; The brave Sir Eustace is no more:

And then His guardian care implore,

Whom demons dread and men adore.

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LETTER I.

GENERAL DESCRIPTION.

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CRABBE

Renewing oft his poor attempts to beat
THE BOROUGH.

His tingling fingers into gathering heat.

He shall again be seen when evening comes,

And social parties crowd their favourite rooms: “ Describe the Borough"—though our idle tribe

Where, on the table pipes and papers lie, May love description, can we so describe,

The steaming bowl or foaming tankard by; That you shall fairly streets and buildings trace,

'Tis then, with all these comforts spread around, And all that gives distinction to a place ?

They hear the painful dredger's welcome sound; This cannot be; yet, mov’d by your request,

And few themselves the savoury boon deny,
A part I paint-let fancy form the rest.

The food that feeds, the living luxury.
Cities and towns, the various haunts of men,

Yon is our quay! those smaller hoys from town, Require the pencil; they defy the pen:

Its various wares, for country use, bring down; Could he, who sang so well the Grecian fleet,

Those laden waggons, in return, impart So well have sug of alley, lane, or street?

The country produce to the city mart; Can measur'd lines these various buildings show,

Hark! to the clamour in that miry road,
The town-hall turning, or the prospect-row?

Bounded and narrow'd by yon vessels' load;
Can I the seats of wealth and want explore,

The lumbering wealth she empties round the place,
And lengthen out my lays from door to door?

Package, and parcel, hogshead, chest, and case:
Then let thy fancy aid me-1 repair

While the loud seaman and the angry hind,
From this tall mansion of our last-year's mayor,

Mingling in business, bellow to the wind.
Till we the out-skirts of the Borough reach,

Near these a crew amphibious, in the docks,
And these half-buried buildings next the beach;

Rear, for the sea, those castles on the stocks: Where hang at open doors, the net and cork,

See! the long keel, which soon the waves must hide; While squalid sea-dames mend the meshy work;

See! the strong ribs which form the roomy side;
Till comes the hour, when fishing through the tide,

Bolts yielding slowly to the sturdiest stroke,
The weary husband throws his freight aside; And planks which curve and crackle in the smoke.
A living mass, which now demands the wife, Around the whole rise cloudy wreaths, and far
Th' alternate labours of their humble life. [wood,

Bear the warm pungence of o'er-boiling tar.
Can scenes like these withdraw thee from thy

Dabbling on shore half-naked sea boys crowd,
Thy upland forest, or thy valley's flood ?

Swim round a ship, or swing upon the shroud;
Seek then thy garden's shrubby bound, and look,

Or in a boat purloin’d, with paddles play,
As it steals by, upon the bordering brook;

And grow familiar with the watery way:
That winding streamlet, limpid, lingering, slow, Young though they be, they feel whose sons

they are, Where the reeds whisper when the zephyrs blow;

They know what British seamen do and dare; Where in the midst, upon her throne of green,

Proud of that fame, they raise and they enjoy be 唐 Sits the large lily as the water's queen;

The rustic wonder of the village-boy.
And makes the current, forc'd awhile to stay,

Before you bid these busy scenes adieu,
Murmur and bubble, as it shoots away;

Behold the wealth that lies in public view,
Draw then the strongest contrast to that stream,

Those far-extended heaps of coal and coke,
And our broad river will before thee seem.

Where fresh-fill'd lime-kilns breathe their stilling
With ceaseless motion comes and goes the tide;

smoke.
Flowing, it fills the channel vast and wide;

This shall pass off, and you behold, instead,
Then back to sea, with strong majestic sweep

The night-fire gleaming on its chalky bed;
It rolls, in ebb yet terrible and deep;

When from the light-house brighter beams will rise,
Here samphire-banks and salt-wort bound the flood, To show the shipman where the shallow lies.
There stakes and sea-weeds withering on the mud;

Thy walks are ever pleasant; every scene
And higher up, a ridge of all things base,

Is rich in beauty, lively, or serene
Which some strong tide has roll'd upon the place.

Rich-is that varied view with woods around,
Thy gentle river boasts its pigmy boat,

Seen from the seat, within the shrubb’ry bound; Urg'd on by pains, half grounded, half afloat;

Where shines the distant lake, and where appear While at her stern an angler takes his stand,

From ruins bolting, unmolested deer; And marks the fish he purposes to land,

Lively—the village-green, the inn, the place From that clear space, where, in the cheerful ray

Where the good widow schools her infant race; Of the warm sun, the scaly people play.

Shops, whence are heard the hammer and the saw, Far other craft our prouder river shows, [snows: And village pleasures unreproved by law. Hoys, pinks and sloops; brigs, brigantines and Then how serene! when in your favourite room, Nor angler we on our wide stream descry,

Gales from your jasmines soothe the evening gloom; But one poor dredger where his oysters lie: When from your upland paddock you look down, He, cold and wet, and driving with the tide, And just perceive the smoke which hides the town; Beats his weak arms against his tarry side,

When weary peasants at the close of day Then drains the remnant of diluted gin,

Walk to their cots, and part upon the way; To aid the warmth that lânguishes within;

When cattle slowly cross the shallow brook,

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And shepherds pen their folds, and rest upon their An equal motion; swelling as it sleeps, crook.

Then slowly sinking; curling to the strand, We prune our hedges, prime our slender trees, Faint, lazy waves o'ercreep the ridgy sand, And nothing looks untutor'd and at ease;

Or tap the tarry boat with gentle blow, On the wide heath, or in the flowery vale,

And back return in silence, smooth and slow.
We scent the vapours of the sea-born gale;

Ships in the calm seem anchor'd-for they glida
Broad-beaten paths lead on from stile to stile, On the still sea, urg'd solely by the tide.
And sewers from streets the road-side banks defile; Art thou not present, this calm scene before,
Our guarded fields a sense of danger show,

Where all beside is pebbly length of shore,
Where garden-crops with corn and clover grow; And far as eye can reach, it can discern no more!
Fences are formed of wreck, and plac'd around, Yet sometimes comes a ruffling cloud to make
(With tenters tippd) a strong repulsive bound; The quiet surface of the ocean shake;
Wide and deep ditches by the gardens run, As an awaken'd giant, with a frown,
And there in ambush lie the trap and gun;

Might show his wrath, and then to sleep sink down. Or yon broad board, which guards each tempting View now the winter-storm! above, one cloud, prize,

Black and unbroken all the skies o'ershroud; “Like a tall bully, lifts its head and lies.”

Th' unwieldy porpus through the day before, There stands a cottage with an open door, Had rollid in view of boding men on shore; Its garden undefended blooms before:

And sometimes hid and sometimes show'd his form,
Her wheel is still, and overturn'd her stool,

Dark as the cloud, and furious as the storm.
While the lone widow seeks the neighb'ring pool : All where the eye delights, yet dreads to roam,
This gives us hope, all views of town to shun The breaking billows cast the flying foam
No! here are tokens of the sailor son ;

Upon the billows rising-all the deep
That old blue jacket, and that shirt of check, Is restless change; the waves so swellid and steep,
And silken kerchief for the seaman's neck;

Breaking and sinking, and the sunken swells,
Sea spoils and shells from many a distant shore, Nor one, one moment, in its station dwells:
And furry robe from frozen Labrador.

But nearer land you may the billows trace,
Our busy streets and sylvan walks between, As if contending in their watery chace;
Fen, marshes, bog, and heath all intervene; May watch the mightiest till the shoal they reach,
Here pits of crag, with spongy, plashy base, Then break and hurry to their utmost stretch;
To some enrich th'uncultivated space:

Curl'd as they come, they strike with furious force,
For there are blossoms rare, and curious rush, And then re-flowing, take their grating course,
The gale's rich balm, and sun-dew's crimson blush, Raking the rounded flints, which ages past
Whose velvet leaf with radiant beauty drest, Roll'd by their rage, and shall to ages

last. Forms a gay pillow for the plover's breast.

Far off the petril in the troubled way
Not distant far, a house commodious made, Swims with her brood, or flutters in the spray;
(Lonely yet public) stands, for Sunday-trade; She rises often, often drops again,
Thither, for this day free, gay parties go,

And sports at ease on the tempestuous main. Their tea-house walk, their tipling rendezvous ; High o'er the restless deep, above the reach There humble couples sit in corner-bowers, Of gunner's hope, vast flights of wild ducks stretch; Or gaily ramble for th' allotted hours;

Far as the eye can glance on either side, Sailors and lasses from the town attend,

In a broad space and level line they glide; The servant-lover, the apprentice-friend;

All in their wedge-like figures from the north

, With all the idle social tribes who seek,

Day after day, flight after flight, go forth.
And find their humble pleasures once a week.
Turn to the watery world!—but who to thee

In shore their passage tribes of sea-gulls urge,

And drop for prey within the sweeping surge;
(A wonder yet unview'd) shall paint—the sea ? Oft in the rough opposing blast they fly
Various and vast, sublime in all its forms,
When lull'd by zephyrs, or when rous'd by storms,

Far back, then turn, and all their force apply,
Its colours changing, when from clouds and sun

While to the storm they give their weak comShades after shades upon the surface run;

plaining cry; Embrown'd and horrid now, and now serene,

Or clap the sleek white pinion to the breast, In limpid blue, and evanescent green;

And in the restless ocean dip for rest. And oft the foggy banks on ocean lie,

Darkness begins to reign; the louder wind List the fair sail, and cheat th' experienced eye.

Appals the weak and awes the firmer mind; Be it the summer-noon: a sandy space

But frights not him, whom evening and the spray The ebbing tide has left upon its place;

In part conceal-yon prowler on his way: Then just the hot and stony beach above,

Lo! he has something seen; he runs apace, Light twinkling streams in bright confusion move;

As if he fear'd companion in the chace; (For heated thus, the warmer air ascends,

He sees his prize, and now he turns again, And with the cooler in its fall contends)

Slowly and sorrowing-"Was your search in vain?” Then the broad bosom of the ocean keeps

Gruffy he answers, * 'Tis a sorry sight!
A seaman's body: there 'll be more to-night!

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PETER GRIMES.

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LETTER XXII.
Hark! to those sounds! they're from distress at sea:
How quick they come! What terrors may there be !
Yes, 'tis a driven vessel: I discern
Lights, signs of terror, gleaming from the stern;

Old Peter Grimes made fishing his employ,
Others behold them too, and from the town,

His wife he cabin'd with him and his boy, In rious parties seamen hurry down;

And seem'd that life laborious to enjoy: Their wives pursue, and damsels urg'd by dread, To town came quiet Peter with his fish, Lest men so dear be into danger led;

And had of all a civil word and wish. Their head the gown has hooded, and their call

He left his trade upon the Sabbath-day, In this sad night is piercing like the squall;

And took young Peter in his hand to pray: They feel their kinds of power, and when they meet,

But soon the stubborn boy from care broke loose, Chide, fondle, weep, dare, threaten, or intreat.

At first refus'd, then added his abuse:
See one poor girl, all terror and alarm,

His father's love he scorn’d, his power defied,
Has fondly seiz'd upon her lover's arm;

But being drunk, wept sorely when he died. “Thou shalt not venture ;" and he answers No! Yes! then he wept, and to his mind there came "I will 20ť—still she cries, “ Thou shalt not go.”

Much of his conduct, and he felt the shame,
No need of this; not here the stoutest boat

How he had oft the good old man revil'd,
Can through such breakers, o'er such billows float; And never paid the duty of a child;
Yet may they view these lights upon the beach, How, when the father in his Bible read,
Which yield them hope, whom help can never reach. He in contempt and anger left the shed:
From parted clouds the moon her radiance throws

" It is the Word of Life," the parent cried; On the wild waves, and all the danger shows;

- This is the life itself,' the boy replied; But shows them beaming in her shining vest,

And while old Peter in amazement stood,
Terrific splendour! gloom in glory drest!

Gave the hot spirit to his boiling blood :-
This for a moment, and then clouds again

How he, with oath and furious speech, began
Hide every beam, and ferr and darkness reign.

To prove his freedom and assert the man;
But hear we now those sounds? Do lights appear?

And when the parent check'd his impious rage,
I see them not! the storm alone I hear:

How he had curs'd the tyranny of age,
And lo! the sailors homeward take their way;

Nay, once had dealt the sacrilegious blow
Man must endure-let us submit and pray.

On his bare head, and laid his parent low;
Such are our winter views; but night comes on-

The father groan'd" If thou art old," said he,
Now business sleeps, and daily cares are gone;

“ And hast a son-thou wilt remember me: Now parties form, and some their friends assist

Thy mother left me in a happy time, (crime." To waste the idle hours at sober whist;

Thou kill’dst not her–Heav'n spares the double
The tavern's pleasure, or the concert's charm,

On an inn-settle, in his maudlin grief,
Uunumber'd moments of their sting disarm;

This he revolv'd, and drank for his relief.
Play-bills and open doors a crowd invite,

Now liv'd the youth in freedom, but debarr'd
To pass off one dread portion of the night;

From constant pleasure, and he thought it hard;
And show and song and luxury combin'd,

Hard that he could not every wish obey,
Lift off from man this burthen of mankind,

But must awhile relinquish ale and play;
Others advent'rous walk abroad and meet

Hard! that he could not to his cards attend,
Returning parties pacing through the street. But must acquire the money he would spend.
When various voices, in the dying day,

With greedy eye he look'd on all he saw,
Hum in our walks, and greet us in our way;

He knew not justice, and he laugh'd at law;
When tavern lights fit on from room to room,

On all he mark’d, he stretch'd his ready hand;
And guide the tippling sailor staggering home :

He fish'd by water and he filch'd by land:
Lab
There as we pass, the jingling bells betray

Oft in the night has Peter dropp'd his oar,
How business rises with the closing day:

Fled from his boat and sought for prey on shore;
Now walking silent, by the river's side,

Oft up the hedge-row glided on his back,
The ear perceives the rippling of the tide;

Bearing the orchard's produce in a sack,
Or measur'd cadence of the lads who tow

Or farm-yard load, tugg'd fiercely from the stack;
Some enter'd hoy, to fix her in her row;

And as these wrongs to greater numbers rose,
Or hollow sound, which from the parish bell

The more he look'd on all men as his foes.
To some departed spirit bids farewell!

He built a mud-wall'd hovel, where he kept
Thus shall you something of our Borough know,

His various wealth, and there he oft times slept;
Far as a verse with fancy's aid can show;

But no success could please his cruel soul,
Of sea or river, of a quay or street,

He wish'd for one to trouble and controul;
The best description must be incomplete;

He wanted some obedient boy to stand, But when a happier theme succeeds, and when

And bear the blow of his outrageous hand; Men are our subjects and the deeds of men ; And hop'd to find in some propitious hour Then may we find the Muse in happier style, A feeling creature subject to his power. And we may sometimes sigh and sometimes smile. Peter had heard there were in London then,

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