Classic Poem

Ber. 'Twas here we were to meet; where does he stay?
This compound of strange contradicting parts,
Too flexible for virtue, yet too virtuous
To make a flourishing, successful villain.
Conscience! he still, preach not remorse to me;
Remorse is for the luckless failing villain.
He who succeeds repents not; penitence
Is but another name for ill success.
Was Nero penitent when Rome was burnt?
No; but had Nero been a petty villain,
Subject to laws and liable to fear,
Nero perchance had been a penitent.
He comes.—This paper makes him all my own.

  Or. At length this wretched, tempest-beaten bark
Seems to have found its haven: I'm resolved;
My wavering principles are fixed to honour;
My virtue gathers force, my mind grows strong,
I feel an honest confidence within,
A precious earnest of returning peace.
  Ber. Who feels secure, stands on the verge of ruin.
Trust me, it joys my heart to see you thus:
What have I not attempted for your sake!
My love for you has warped my honest nature,
And friendship has infringed on higher duties.
  Or. It was a generous fault.
  Ber. Yet 'twas a fault.
Oh for a flinty heart that knows no weakness,
But moves right onward, unseduc'd by friendship,
And all the weak affections!
  Or. Hear me, Bertrand!
This is my last farewell; absence alone
Can prop my stagg'ring virtue.
  Ber. You're resolv'd:
Then Julia's favours come too late:
  Or. What favours?
  Ber. Nay, nothing: I renounce these weak affections;
They have misled us both. I too repent,
And will return the letter back to Julia.
  Or. Letter! what letter? Julia write to me?
I will not see it. What would Rivers say?
Bertrand! he sav'd my life;—I will not see it.
  Ber. I do not mean you should: nay, I refus'd
To bring it you.
  Or. Refus'd to bring the letter?
  Ber. Yes, I refus'd at first.
  Or. Then thou hast brought it?
My faithful Bertrand!—come.
  Ber. 'Twere best not see it.
  Or. Not see it! how! not read my Julia's letter!
An empire should not bribe me to forbear.
Come, come.
  Ber. Alas, how frail is human virtue!
My resolution melts, and though I mean not
To trust you with the letter, I must tell you
With what a thousand, thousand charms she gave it.
“Take this,” said she, “and as Orlando reads it,
Attend to every accent of his voice;
Watch every little motion of his eye;
Mark if it sparkles when he talks of Julia;
If when he speaks, poor Julia be the theme;
If when he sighs, his bosom heave for Julia:
Note every trifling act, each little look,
For, oh! of what importance is the least
To those who love like me!”
  Or. Delicious poison!
O how it taints my soul! give me the letter.
Ha! where's the virtue which but now I boasted?
'Tis lost, 'tis gone—conflicting passions tear me.
I am again a villain. Give it—no;
A spark of honour strikes upon my soul.
Take back the letter; take it back, good Bertrand,
Spite of myself compel me to be just:
I will not read it.
  Ber. How your friend will thank you!
Another day makes Julia his for ever.
Even now the great pavilion is prepar'd;
There will the nuptial rites be solemnized.
Julia already dress'd in bridal robes,
Like some fair victim——
  Or. O no more, no more.
What can she write to me?
  Ber. Some prudent counsel.
  Or. Then wherefore fear to read it? Come, I'll venture;
What wondrous harm can one poor letter do?
The letter—quick—the letter.
  Ber. Since you force me.

  Or. Be firm, ye shivering nerves! It is her hand,
“To spare my blushes, Bertrand brings you this.
How have you wrong'd me! you believ'd me false;
'Twas my compassion for your friend deceiv'd you.
Meet me at midnight in the great pavilion;
But shun till then my presence; from that hour
My future life is yours; your once-lov'd friend
I pity and esteem; but you alone
Possess the heart of Julia.”
This to me!
I dream, I rave, 'tis all Elysium round me,
And thou, my better angel! this to me!
  Ber. I'm dumb; oh Julia! what a fall is thine!
  Or. What, is it such a crime to love? away——
Thy moral comes too late; thou shouldst have urg'd
Thy scruple sooner, or not urg'd at all;
Thou shouldst—alas! I know not what I say—
But this I know, the charming Julia loves me,
Appoints a meeting at the dead of night!
She loves! the rest is all beneath my care.
  Ber. Be circumspect; the hour is just at band;
Since all is ready for your purpos'd parting,
See your attendants he dispos'd aright,
Near the pavilion gate.
  Or. Why so?
  Ber. 'Tis plain
Julia must be the partner of your flight:
'Tis what she means, you must not mind her struggles;
A little gentle violence perhaps,
To make her yield to what she had resolv'd,
And save her pride; she'll thank you for it after.
  Or. Take her by force? I like not that, O Bertrand,
There is a mutinous spirit in my blood.
That wars against my conscience. Tell my Julia
I will not fail to meet her.
  Ber. I obey.
Be near the garden; I shall soon return.
  Or. This giant sin, whose bulk so lately scared me,
Shrinks to a common size; I now embrace
What I but lately fear'd to look upon.
Why, what a progress have I made in guilt!
Where is the hideous form it lately were?
It grows familiar to me; I can think,
Contrive, and calmly meditate on mischief,
Talk temp'rately of sin, and cherish crimes
I lately so abhorr'd, that had they once
But glanced upon the surface of my fancy
I had been terrified. Oh wayward conscience!
Too tender for repose, too sear'd for penitence!

  Riv. Ye lovely scenes of long-remember'd bliss!
Scenes which I hop'd were fated to bestow
Still dearer blessings on a beauteous bride!
Thou gay pavilion, which art dress'd so fair
To witness my espousals, why, ah, why
Art thou adorn'd in vain? Yet still I court thee,
For Julia lov'd thee once:—dear faithless Julia!
Yet is she false? Orlando swore she was not:
It may be so, yet she avoids my presence,
Keeps close from every eye, but most from mine.

  Or. Ah! Rivers here? would I had shunn'd his walks!
How shall I meet the man I mean to wrong?
  Riv. Why does Orlando thus expose his health
To this cold air?
  Or. I ask the same of Rivers?
  Riv. Because this solitude, this silent hour
Feeds melancholy thoughts, and soothes my soul.
My Julia will not see me.
  Or. How?
  Riv. She denies me
Admittance to her presence.
  Or. Then I'm lost,
Confirm'd a villain, now 'tis plain she loves me.
  Riv. She will not pardon me one single fault
Of jealous love, though thou hadst clear'd up all.
  Or. Wait till to-morrow, all will then be known.
  Riv. Wait till to-morrow! Look at that pavilion;
All was prepar'd; yes, I dare tell thee all,
For thou art honest now.
  Or. That wounds too deeply.
  Riv. Soon as the midnight bell gave the glad summons,
This dear pavilion had beheld her mine.
  Or. All will he well to-morrow. If I stay
I shall betray the whole.—Good night, my Rivers.
  Riv. Good night; go you to rest; I still shall walk.
Yes, I will trace her haunts; my too fond heart,
Like a poor bird that's haunted from its nest,
Dares not return, and knows not where to fix;
Still it delights to hover round the spot
Which lately held its treasure; eyes it still,
And with heart-breaking tenderness surveys
The scene of joys which never may return.
  Or. Did he say rest? talk'd he of rest to me?
Can rest and guilt associate? but no matter,
I cannot now go back; then such a prize,
Such voluntary love, so fair, so yielding,
Would make archangels forfeit their allegiance!
I dare not think; reflection leads to madness.

Bertrand! I was not made for this dark work;
My heart recoils—poor Rivers!
  Ber. What of Rivers?
  Or. I've seen him.
  Ber. Where?
  Or. Before the great pavilion.
  Ber. That's lucky, saves me trouble; were he absent,
Half of my scheme had fail'd.
  Or. He's most unhappy;
He wish'd me rest, spoke kindly to me, Bertrand;
How, how can I betray him?
  Ber. He deceives you;
He's on the watch, else wherefore now abroad
At this late hour? beware of treachery.
  Or. I am myself the traitor.
  Ber. Come, no more!
The time draws near, you know the cypress walk,
'Tis dark.
  Or. The fitter for dark deeds like mine.
  Ber. I have prepar'd your men; when the bell strikes
Go into the pavilion; there you'll find
The blushing maid, who with faint screams perhaps
Will feign resentment. But you want a sword.
  Or. A sword!—I'll murder no one—why a sword?
  Ber. 'Tis prudent to be arm'd; no words, take mine;
There may be danger, Julia may be lost,
This night secures or loses her for ever.
The cypress walk—spare none who look like spies.
  Or. How deeply is that soul involv'd in guilt,
Who dares not hold communion with its thoughts,
Nor ask itself what it designs to do!
But dailies blindly with the gen'ral sin,
Of unexamin'd, undefin'd perdition!

  Ber. Thus far propitious fortune fills my sails,
Yet still I doubt his milkiness of soul;
My next exploit must be to find out Rivers,
And, as from Julia, give him a feign'd message,
To join her here at the pavilion gate;
There shall Orlando's well-arm'd servants meet him,
And take his righteous soul from this bad world.
If they should fail, his honest cousin Bertrand
Will help him onward in his way to heav'n.
Then this good dagger, which I'll leave beside him,
Will, while it proves the deed, conceal the deer;
'Tis not an English instrument of mischief,
And who'll suspect good Bertrand wore a dagger?
To clear me further, I've no sword—unarm'd—
Poor helpless Bertrand! Then no longer poor,
But Guildford's heir, and lord of these fair lands.

  Or. Draw thy dun curtain round, oh, night! black night!
Inspirer and concealer of foul crimes!
Thou wizard night! who conjur'st up dark thoughts.
And mak'st him hold, who else would start at guilt
Beneath thy veil the villain dares to net
What in broad day he would not dare to think.
Oh, night! thou hid'st the dagger's point from men,
But canst thou screen the assassin from himself?
Shut out the eye of Heav'n? extinguish conscience?
Or heal the wounds of honour? Oh, no, no, no!
Yonder she goes—the guilty, charming Julia!
My genius drives me on—Julia, I come.

  Julia. Not here? not come? look out, my faithful Anna.
There was a time—oh, time for ever dear!
When Rivers would not make his Julia wait.
Perhaps he blames me, thinks the appointment bold,
Too daring, too unlike his bashful Julia;
But 'twas the only means my faithful love
Devis'd to save him from Orlando's rashness.
I have kept close, refus'd to see my Rivers;
Now all is still, and I have ventured forth,
With this kind maid, and virtue for my guard.
Come, we'll go in, he cannot sure be long.

  Or. What have I done? a deed that earns damnation!
Where shall I fly? ah! the pavilion door!
'Tis open—it invites me to fresh guilt;
I'll not go in—let that fallen angel wait,
And curse her stars as I do.
Hark! the hell!
Demons of darkness, what a peal is that!
Again! 'twill wake the dead—I cannot bear it!
'Tis terrible as the last trumpet's sound!
That was the marriage signal! Powers of hell,
What blessings have I blasted! Rivers! Julia?

  Julia. My Rivers calls; I come, I come.—Orlando!
  Or. Yes,
Thou beautiful deceiver! 'tis that wretch.
  Julia. That perjur'd friend.
  Or. That devil!
  Julia. I'm betray'd.
Why art thou here?
  Or. Thou canst make ruin lovely,
Or I would ask, why didst thou bring me here?
  Julia. I bring thee here?
  Or. Yes, thou, bright falsehood! thou.
  Julia. No, by my hopes of heaven? where is my Rivers?
Some crime is meant.
  Or. Julia! the crime is done.
Dost thou not shudder? art thou not amaz'd?
Art thou not cold and blasted with my touch?
Is not thy blood congeal'd? does no black horror
Fill thy presaging soul? look at these hands;
Julia! they're stain'd with blood; blood, Julia, blood!
Nay, look upon them.
  Julia. Ah! I dare not. Blood!
  Or. Yes, thou dear false one, with the noblest blood
That over stain'd a dark assassin's hand.
Had not thy letter with the guilty message
To meet thee here this hour, blinded my honour,
And wrought my passion into burning frenzy,
Whole worlds should not have bribed me.
  Julia. Letter and message?
I sent thee none.
  Or. Then Bertrand has betray'd me!
And I have done a deed beyond all reach,
All hope of mercy—I have murder'd Rivers.
  Julia. Oh!
  Or. O rich reward which love prepares for murder!
Thus hell repays its instruments!

  Guild. Where is he?
Where is this midnight murderer? this assassin?
This is the place Orlando's servant nam'd.
  Or. The storm comes on. 'Tis Guildford, good old man!
Behold the wretch accurst of Heaven and thee.
  Guild. Accurst of both indeed. How, Julia fainting!
  Or. She's pure as holy truth; she was deceiv'd,
And so was I.
  Guild. Who tempted thee to this?
  Or. Love, hell, and Bertrand.
  Julia. Give me back my Rivers;
I will not live without him. Oh, my father!
  Guild. Father! I'm none; I am no more a father!
I have no child; my son is basely murder'd
And my sweet daughter, at the fatal news,
Is quite bereft of reason.
  Or. Seize me, bind me:
If death's too great a mercy, let me live:
Drag me to some damp dangeon's horrid gloom,
Deep as the centre, dark as my offences;
Come, do your office, take my sword: oh, Bertrand,
Yet, ere I perish, could it reach thy heart!
  Julia. I will not long survive thee, oh, my Rivers!

  Riv. Who calls on Rivers with a voice so sad,
So full of sweetness?
  Guild. Ah, my son!
  Julia. 'Tis he, 'tis he!

  Or. He lives, he lives! the godlike Rivers lives!
Hear it, ye host of heaven! witness, ye saints!
Recording angels, tell it in your songs;
Breathe it, celestial spirits, to your lutes,
That Rivers lives!
  Julia. Explain this wondrous happiness?
  Riv. 'Twas Bertrand whom Orlando killed; the traitor
Has with his dying breath confess'd the whole.
  Or. Good sword, I thank thee!
  Riv. In the tangled maze
Orlando miss'd the path he was to take,
And pass'd through that where Bertrand lay conceal'd
To watch th' event: Orlando thought 'twas me,
And that I play'd him false: the walk was dark.
In Bertrand's bloody hand I found this dagger,
With which he meant to take my life; but how
Were you alarm'd?
  Guild. One of Orlando's men,
Whom wealth could never bribe to join in murder—
  Or. Murder! I bribe to murder?
  Riv. No; 'twas Bertrand
Brib'd them to that curst deed: he lov'd my sister.
  Or. Exquisite villain!
  Guild. Fly to Emmelina,
If any spark of reason yet remain,
Tell her the joyful news. Alas, she's here!
Wildly she flies! Ah, my distracted child!

  Em. Off, off! I will have way! ye shall not hold me:
I come to seek my lord; is he not here?
Tell me, ye virgins, have ye seen my love,
Or know you where his flocks repose at noon?
My love is comely—sure you must have seen him;
'Tis the great promiser! who vows and swears;
The perjur'd youth! who deals in oaths and breaks them.
In truth he might deceive a wiser maid.
I lov'd him once; he then was innocent;
He was no murderer then, indeed he was not;
He had not kill'd my brother.
  Riv. Nor has now;
Thy brother lives.
  Em. I know it—yes, he lives
Among the cherubim. Murd'rers too will live;
But where? I'll tell you where—down, down, down, down.
How deep it is! 'tis fathomless—'tis dark!
No—there's a pale blue flame—ah, poor Orlando!
  Guild. My heart will burst.
  Or. Pierce mine, and that will ease it.
  Em. I knew a maid who lov'd—but she was mad—
Fond, foolish girl! Thank Heav'n, I am not mad;
Yet the afflicting angel has been with me;
But do not tell my father, he would grieve;
Sweet, good old man—perhaps he'd weep to hear it:
I never saw my father weep but once;
I'll tell you when it was. I did not weep;
'Twas when—but soft, my brother must not know it,
'Twas when his poor fond daughter was refused.
  Guild. Who can bear this?
  Or. I will not live to bear it.
  Em. Take comfort, thou poor wretch! I'll not appear
Against thee, nor shall Rivers; but blood must,
Blood will appear; there's no concealing blood.
What's that? my brother's ghost—it vanishes;
Stay, take me with thee, take me to the skies;
I have thee fast; thou shalt not go without me.
But hold—may we not take the murd'rer with us?
That look says—No. Why then I'll not go with thee.
Yet hold me fast—'tis dark—I'm lost—I'm gone
  Or. One crime makes many needful; this day's sin
Blots out a life of virtue. Good old man!
My bosom bleeds for thee; thy child is dead.
And I the cause. 'Tis but a poor atonement;
But I can make no other.
  Riv. What hast thou done?
  Or. Fill'd up the measure of my sins. Oh, mercy!
Eternal goodness, pardon this last guilt!
Rivers, thy hand!—farewell! forgive me, Heaven!
Yet is it not an act which bars forgiveness,
And shuts the door of grace for ever?—Oh!