  TALES OF THE HALL. Variants in edition of 1819 (first edition). ‘Original MS.’ readings given as footnotes in Life and Poems (1834). These are distinguished as ‘O.M.’ The Book opens: Bleak was the morn: said Richard, with a sigh, } “I must depart.”—“That, Brother, I deny,” } Said George, “you may; but prithee tell me why.” } This point before had been discuss’d, but still Richard submitted to his Brother’s will; But every day gave birth to doubt and fear; He heard not now, as he was wont to hear. George had discover’d such regret and pain, That Richard still consented to remain. Silence ensued—when, from the village bell Came sound for one who bade the world farewell. Enquiry made, and it was quickly found Sir Owen Dale had caused the doleful sound, Lord of a distant village, and his clay Was borne through Binning on its homeward way. “Knew you the Knight? Our Rector knew him well, And he’ll the story of his feelings tell, That show at least he had them.—Let us dine, I’ll introduce the subject with the wine. It is a compound story, if he paints The whole—and we must ply him, if he faints. The tale foreshorten’d, nothing is descried, But certain persons, that they lived and died; But let him fill the canvas, and he brings } In view the several passions and their springs, } And we have then more perfect view of things.” } The Vicar came; he dined; and they began Freely to speak of the departed man; Then ask’d the Vicar to repeat the tale That he could give them of Sir Owen Dale. (O.M.) l. 19. Creswell. instead of ll. 243–4: Scarcely his generous heart the ills sustain’d, And vows of vengeance for his ease remain’d: The shapeless purpose of a soul that feels, And half suppresses rage, and half reveals. (O.M.) Book XIII.Variant of ll. 43–77: “Is there not Danger when a lover gains His lady’s heart, and her consent obtains? (Suppose their union for a while delay’d, As when a flinching father is afraid.) Now, when the youth upon his labours past Delighted looks, and is in peace at last, Is there not Danger in those days of peace, When troubles lessen, and when terrors cease, Lest, from the love of novelty, the sin, Of changeful man, some wandering should begin? Lest a successful spirit, in its pride, Should not contented with its peace abide? “Not Troilus more true or fond could be, Not Orpheus to his lost Eurydice, Than to his Harriet Henry—all was done On either part, and either heart was won. For there had pass’d the lady’s wish to charm With due success; the lover felt th’ alarm; Then, more emotion in the man t’ excite, There pass’d in her the momentary slight; Then, after many a tender fear, there came A declaration of the deathless flame.” (O.M.) instead of ll. 188–9: “Here none approach to laugh, to sing, to prate; Here I can mourn, and muse, and meditate.” (O.M.) after l. 648: Her quill was one not pluck’d from Venus’ dove, And her smart language proved her wounded love. (O.M.) instead of ll. 786–93: And thus for ever shall it be, when vice Shall the weak heart from rectitude entice, Or fear, with some poor passion, shall unite To make that timid turning from the right, Unerring Justice shall her pains decree, And man shall own that thus it ought to be. (O.M.) After l. 372: Well, then, it seems from fairy land we come To this of truth! and this must be our home. What can we do? the air is bleak and cold, And all is dark and dull that we behold. Views dull and tedious our sad scenes disclose; } How cold and languid these! how warm and sprightly those! } There were Love’s friends—hope, joy, and generous trust: Here are his foes—care, caution, and disgust. There was the warm, confiding soul of youth, Here doubt and care, and cold assent to truth. Oh, ’tis beyond repair, beyond dispute, That flower of promise has this bitter fruit! Oh, ’tis a dismal fruit! I prithee strive For the old prospect—bid the dream revive. (O.M.) The Book opens: The Brothers dwelt upon their favourite themes Of ghosts, and spectres, demons, devils, dreams; These to all kinds of ghostly subjects led, } Things we believe not, yet we ever dread, } At which our reason halts, by which our fears are led. } “Sometimes,” said George, “the ghost and dream unite, As was the case with Lady Barbara’s spright.” (O.M.) after l. 305: “Yet when I look upon that face divine, Say, can I wish the goddess-mother mine? She who, like Venus, should provide me arms Against my foe—not bring me greater harms.” (O.M.) instead of ll. 443–8: “Hear, then, and hope not! to the tale I tell Belongs the warning on the gate of hell: ‘This is no place for hope!’ the guilt above } Excludes it here. Oh! now the guilt remove, } And fear the curse of interdicted love.” (O.M.)} variant of ll. 495–8: “Some to the dean referred us, who had made An atheist mad, so well could he persuade: Others to Doctor Bowles’s powerful art, Who found an entrance in the hardest heart.” (O.M.) variant of ll. 915–16: Such is our tale, and all that now remain Are sad varieties of grief and pain. variant of ll. 929–37: The day of love, like an autumnal day, Ev’n in its morning hastened to decay. Who gave her hand, determined not to give, Was doom’d in anguish and regret to live; Eager he sought her, eagerly to shun. He laugh’d at tears he caused himself to start, And mock’d the sorrows of a breaking heart, While she a sad and sighing slave remain’d, And to the dregs the cup of sorrow drain’d. (O.M.) Variant of ll. 38–63: “Would you believe it, Richard, that fair she Has had three husbands? I repeat it, three! True, she has years beyond your reckoning seen, With distance and a window for their screen. But she has something that may still command The warm admirer, and the ready hand. Her fortune, too; yet there indeed I doubt; Since so much money has run in and out, ’Tis hard to guess.—But there is this in her, That I to minds of stronger cast prefer. She may be made, with certainty and ease, To take what habits shall a husband please. Women will give up all their love of rule, Great as it is, if man be not a fool; They’re out of place, when they assume the sway, But feel it safe and easy to obey. Queens they have been, when men supply the means— But Heaven defend us from domestic queens! Now hear me, Richard; fairly I relate, The thrice devoted wife’s and widow’s fate; And you shall own, for I will fairly show, That men their misery to supineness owe, And that they could not of their fate complain, But that they govern with a slackened rein.” (O.M.) instead of ll. 249–50: “But, to prevent all babbling, there may be A bond and contract betwixt you and me.” (O.M.) instead of ll. 255–6: The bond was made; but he appear’d so fond, So kind and good, that she destroy’d the bond. (O.M.) instead of ll. 261–4: The reading girl dismissed, the books she read No longer visions caused, or fancies bred: The teacher gone, the lady took her place, And found she could instruct the infant race. (O.M.) He then would take a farm, and he would keep, As monied men are wont, a breed of sheep; He would attend at meetings and debate, } Would be a serious, useful magistrate, } Talk of his country’s rights, and think about the state. } Him should the poor esteem, his equals thank, } And he would class with men of certain rank, } Join in some firm, a partner in some bank— } He and his partner, Ronaldson and Co.— All this ambition saw: it must be so. Perhaps these children would require a lift, It was not right to turn them quite adrift. Of that hereafter—and he thought beside About the face and fortune of his bride. (O.M.) variant of ll. 313–20: Young as he was, and planning favourite schemes For future grandeur, wealth’s delirious dreams! He built a mansion in his mind, and one The country round should gaze with pride upon; But ere a stone was laid, or timber sawn, He to the narrow House of Death was drawn. (O.M.) variant of ll. 411–26: “It was a vast concern, and, when to think She forced herself, she could not sleep a wink. ‘Nothing,’ she wrote, ‘could for her loss atone; It was a wretched life to live alone: Yet, to be used unkindly, that was worse Than any evil, but an empty purse; And, as her own was not so poor a kind, What, in a change, could she expect to find? Not but a double fortune would produce A double pleasure—she confess’d the use. Yet at her time of life, what she desired Were humble comforts—little she required. And yet ’twas true as any truth could be, None had less pleasure in the world than she. And then her children! he must surely know What prudent mothers to their offspring owe; Not but a parent may restrain a child, Nay, may reject him, if he will be wild; But hers were good, and so they would remain; If not, alas! who should their wills restrain?’” (O.M.) variant of ll. 499–508: “Oh!” she cried, “stop, our means will never last;” For she had sad remembrance of the past. “Hence with all care!” the husband cried, “away! Him have I shunned, and hated day by day; And shall I turn and meet the villain now? In all my wants, I found expedients new, And my last, best resource, my dear, in you.” (O.M.) after l. 529: These graceful weeds will soon be laid aside; Exchanged for all the glories of a bride. There all is chance! for she is form’d to take The guiding hand, but not a guide to make. As men of skill the ductile clay command, And warm and soften for the plastic hand, Till, in each well-form’d feature of the face, He can the work of his creation trace, So may the future husband here survey The mind he models—if he wills, he may. Women, dear Richard, born to be controlled, Yet love the ensign of the power to hold, And would the power itself—but, this deny, And they with meek, well-order’d minds comply; Tyrants, no doubt, if you resign the sway— If you retain it, willing to obey. (O.M.) For a variant of ll. 1–15, see Variants, Book XII. ll. 1–9. l. 265. Catharine. after l. 294: The mother’s whisper cannot here have place; The words distinguish’d were but caps and lace, With something lying in a cedar chest, And a shrewd smile that further thoughts express’d. (O.M.) Instead of ll. 54–5: “To take my way, break in on no one’s plan, Filling a pause—‘the poor disorder’d man!’” (O.M.) Variants in Crabbe MSS. in the possession of Professor Edward Dowden. These are distinguished as ‘D.’ ‘Original MS.’ readings given as footnotes in Life and Poems (1834). These are distinguished as ‘O.M.’ The Tale opens: There was a Youth, and we would call him poor, Save that he wished not for one Shilling more— No, not one Shilling; but th’ ambitious Boy Wished for more Wealth than Mortals can enjoy: Unbounded Treasure, such as Fancy sees In morning Dreams and musing Reveries; Such as in Eastern Tales Magicians hide For their Unhappy Favourites to provide. Such Tales our Boy from Infancy had read With Faith enough to turn a stronger head. variant of ll. 73–4: His Father’s Club supplied a Matchless Store Of mental Wealth that Minds like his explore. He did as Misers yet as Spendthrifts do: Long to possess, and to Enjoy them too. variant of ll. 98–104: Yet would his Mind descend to humble food: He had a favourite Friend in Robin Hood; Knew Philip Quarle; in Crusoe’s Isle had strayed; } Nocturnal Visits had to Witches paid, } And gone through haunted Halls, delighted and afraid } after l. 104: Nor fail’d Arabian Tales his mind to please, Peruvian, Persian, Turkish, and Chinese; And his chief Reading both in Prose and Rhyme He found amusing and he thought sublime. And better these, I can but think, than some Which now are found in Miss and Master’s room. There lie the Moral Story—every age From six years upwards has th’ appropriate page— And Tales to win Attention, till the Mind Is train’d for Novels of superior Kind. The Heart is led on fancied Views to dote, To live in Error and to live by rote. But say that Love and all his naughty deeds Are not presented to the Child that reads— Are not such boys as in the World appear: They are too good, too bad, too weak, too wise; Children at once admire them or despise; And, thus instructed, they’re prepared to find Their Heroes or their Villains in Mankind, Such Baby Wisdom in the Nursery thrives And does small Service in their after lives. His Father kept an humble School, and Men Professing Law employed his ready Pen. He measured Land, and his poor Boy with Pain Drew o’er the stubbled Glebe a length of Chain. He many an hungry day his Fancy fed, And not till these his fairy Visions fled, That so much Honour, Wealth and Glory gave, Felt he for humble Food his fainting Nature crave. instead of ll. 183–6: Mirrors of mighty Size and Pictures Rare, Statues and Busts and Tap’stried Walls were there; There Art and Nature were, ’twas said, at Strife; Views looked like Pictures, Figures looked as Life; And Men disputed where the Charms abide Most worthy Praise; but no man could decide. after l. 387: “You read your Bible?” He assenting smil’d And grew in Favour—an improving Child. after l. 668: Figures that Fancy or the Painter drew, Profane and sacred, mingled in his View. variant of ll. 671–682: The Prophet sitting in the Lions’ Den, The Mountain Loadstone, and the marble Men— Whatever yet to dreaming Man appear’d, And all that Fancy ever form’d or fear’d, And all that Reading could supply, and all The Wonders he had view’d at Silford Hall. after l. 699: At length our Traveller found, tho’ hard to find, His Home, and boasted how he fared and dined. Six Days the Lad enjoyed the Pleasures past, And slowly settled to his Work at last. His Tasks were heavy, and his Food was mean, But O! the Glories he had lately seen! Like a wild Dream upon his Mind they dwelt, And still he prayed to feel what he had felt: Who lived and feasted in that glorious place. Where all were rich and splendid, fine and gay; } They had no Wants to fear, no Cost to pay, } But all day long were pleased and feasted every day. } But what, he thought with fresh Surprise, are they Whom even these with all their Pride obey; Whoso greater Pleasures to themselves are known, And who can call what they behold their own? He had no Words such pleasures to express; ’Twas not enough to call it Happiness. the Tale closes: Dream on, dear Boy! let pass a few brief years, Replete with troubles, comforts, hopes, and fears, Bold expectations, efforts wild and strong, And thou shalt find thy fond conjectures wrong. Imagination rules thee: thine are dreams, And every thing to thee is what it seems: Thou seest the surfaces of things, that pass Before thee, colour’d by thy fancy’s glass. The fact below is hidden! What is true In that fair mansion comes not in thy view; And thou would’st feel a new and strange surprise, Should all within upon thy mind arise. Thou think’st the lords of all these glorious things Are blest supremely! so they are—like kings! Envy them not their lofty state, my boy; They but possess the things that you enjoy. “Nay, but they’re lords of all you see around— Ring but a bell, and men obey the sound; Make but a motion, with the hand or eye, And their attendants at the signal fly.” True, my fair lad! but this is contract all, For James is paid to heed his Honour’s call. Let wages cease, and lay the livery by, And James will heed no more than you or I. Service has lawful bound, and that beyond Is no obedience—’tis not in the bond. Footman, or groom, or butler, still he knows, So does his lord, the duty that he owes. Labourers, you say, are grieved with daily toil— True—but the sweater goes not with the soil; He can change places, change his way of life, Take new employments—nay, can take a wife; If he offend, he knows the law’s decree, Nor can his judge in his accuser see; And, more than all the rest—or young or old, Useful or useless, he cannot be sold: Sorrow and want may in his cot be found, But not a Slave can live on British ground. Nor have the lords of all this wealth you see, Their perfect freedom; few are truly free; And kings themselves are subject to their state. Riches, and all that we desire to gain, } Bind their possessors in a golden chain— } ’Tis kept in peril, and ’tis lost with pain. } And thou too, Boy! wilt pass unheeding by The scenes that now delight thine eager eye. Dream on awhile! and there shall come a strange, And, couldst thou see it, an amazing change. Thou who wert late so happy, and so proud, To be a seat with liveried men allow’d, And would not, dared not, in thy very shame, The titles of their noble masters name— Titles that, scarcely known, upon thy tongue With tremulous and erring accent hung— Now, when accustomed to the splendid Place And known to all of that illustrious Race; His Senses all, and most of all his Sight, Indulged with all that can a Sense delight; His partial Friends, to humble Merits kind, And to his Failings heedless if not blind; Bound to no Duty but a wish to please, And living like a Beggar at his ease— Now do these Scenes delight him, doth he gaze On objects that enchant him and amaze In mute Surprise? oh, no! the Time is past; Raptures and Wonders are not formed to last. Pensive, alone, he walks the Rooms around And seeks for Pleasure; but it is not found. All he can see he many times has seen, And round and round the Maze of Pleasure been. The Pictures, now familiar to the Eye, He owns their beauty, but he passes by; These stately Rooms—that Park so fenced about, Where he was free, now shut his Freedom out, And keeps, he feels—yet fears it as a Sin, And he ungrateful—Lassitude within. Himself discerning, he has learned to trace The Signs of Languor in the loveliest face. The great, the wealthy, who cannot enjoy What Time brings forth, would Time himself destroy; But that a Lad from life laborious freed Should sigh for Action, this is strange indeed; And yet no Labours in the years gone by Cost him the feeling witnessed in that Sigh. Lo! now they meet and greeting seem to say, “How dealt you, Friends, with Father Time to-day?” When each his warfare has with Time confest, Then all acknowledge they are yet opprest. Our Youth has wandered in his Way and sees The Village tribe, as he conceives, at ease; All seeming well their Lot in Life to bear, Because they know not his peculiar Care. That he was free his Duties to pursue; Men, Women, Children, all appear’d to say, “I know the Part that I must take to-day.” All this our Youth beheld, and, with a sigh Reflected, “Not a care in Life have I.” Then why not seek it? Ask the man who dines Daily on costly food and generous Wines, Who feels no Pain, who no Complaint can make, But only feels he can no Pleasure take— And he will answer, that ’tis Fortune’s Will; He may be weary, but he must be still. Oh! had they told thee, when thou sat’st with pride, And grateful joy, at Madam Johnson’s side, And heard the lisping Flora, blue-eyed maid, Bid thee be neither bashful nor afraid, When Mrs. Jane thy burning blush had raised, Because thy modesty and sense she praised— Could’st thou have seen that in that place a room Should be thine own, thy house, thy hall, thy home; With leave to wander as thou would’st, to read Just as thy fancy was disposed to feed, To live with those who were so far above Thy reach, it seem’d to thee a crime to love, Or even admire, them!—Little didst thou know How near approach the lofty and the low! In all we dare, and all we dare not name, How much the great and little are the same! Well, thou hast tried it—thou hast closely seen What greatness has without it, and within; Where now the joyful expectation?—fled! The strong anticipating spirit?—dead! Variant of title: THE RAKE AND COQUETTE. variant of ll. 149–50: “Have you not heard—for though I do not mean To start an ill opinion of your Queen— variant of ll. 220–4: But these pass off and oh! what tempests shake The moral view, what dire change they make! Temper not hidden, vice no more supprest— What stores of Discord swell in either breast. the Tale concludes: The Authors both, both Victims [of] Deceit, Each feels the Craft that Each was doom’d to meet— Time present to regret and Suffering lent; While feeble Hopes in either Bosom reign, } That Death in time to come would snap their Chain } And free from Thraldom one, and one release from Pain. } l. 1. Withers. after l. 44: But Flesh and Blood are only white and red, And brown or auburn hairs adorn the head, And the dear Creatures are but large and small— The gay, the grave, the dwarfish or the tall. l. 63. Vickars. after l. 121: “But, if I must more certain Verdict give, My Friend and Neighbour, I will bid thee live; For Friends one would not in such times forgo, And ’tis Revenge to sacrifice a Foe. l. 172. Vickars. after l. 291: “We know of Ladies who refuse to sip The rosy Wine, nor wet the courted Lip, Yet drink at last; and Lovers, tho’ disgraced, At length may relish on the varying Taste. variant of ll. 449 to end: But Fate more grievous than her fears could draw, Or his Revenge forepurposed or foresaw, Was theirs: the Carriage was with speed borne on, And had in safety thro’ the by-way gone, Avoiding face of Man; and now [it] sped To the wild Heath that to the Ocean led. Their Minds, ev’n his who drove them with such speed, Were mov’d and troubled by the lawless Deed, And the Way plain, for so it seem’d; their Haste Was doubly urgent o’er the level Waste. None saw beside them, half o’ergrown, a Cave That sometimes Shelter to the Shepherd gave— To them, alarm—alarming Fate to one. The Driver saw it, but he could not shun; His Cry awaked the Terrors, but too late; It just preceded the unhappy fate. Villars escaped; the youth with heavy Groan Proclaimed abroad unheard the fractured bone. But poor Calista fell upon the Rock, The Cave’s foundation, nor survived the Shock. Hope and Contrition, Fancy might suggest; But, while he stood in Horror at the Sight, Those brilliant Eyes were set in endless night. A Fate like this, you may conceive, to paint Language and Colours are too weak and faint: The Lad in Agony with Grief and pain, The hurried Man too wretched to complain; But o’er the Body of the dead, her Guilt Forgotten, and her blood by Vengeance spilt, The very Beasts stood trembling, and the day In cloudy Stillness slowly past away. A Gipsy [Horde]—what time could intervene None knows, for Darkness then had veil’d the Scene— Led by the cry of pain, the idle Crew Approach, and pity touch’d them at the View. What they could do and what the Law decreed I need not tell—what further can we need? But from the Sense of Guilt or [Thought] of Grief Nor Law nor Truth can yield the [Soul] Relief. The man is old, and feeble lives retired; Gives much, takes little—little has transpired Of his Employments, Studies or Intent; Thankful, ’tis said, when every Day is spent. A Priest is with him; he has built his Tomb, And walks and muses by the purpos’d home— The Tomb of him who thought with too much Zeal Of Joy on Earth; whose Curse it was to feel And love intensely—may his Spirit know The Joys this World could not on him bestow; And for that world may he depart from this, Where Zeal is Duty and where Love is bliss! Instead of ll. 1–4: I’m now of Age and, if I be in fact Heir to a Fortune, it is mine to act. Alas! I am no Heir, with Grief I speak Mine is the Fortune that is yet to seek. (D.) l. 5 for And read Come. (D.) after l. 6: Yet, ere I venture on the bold design, And one by fate, not Inclination, mine, In a rough World ‘mid Friends and foes to dwell, Let me to mine own Neighbours bid farewell! (D.) after l. 84: But feebly gives the Time; the very Shore, Methinks, resounds not as it did before; Confounds my Sight—there’s Littleness in all. Yet is the Shore the same, the same the Sea, And every Change I mourn is Change in me. (D.) instead of ll. 97–100: Would I could one, a single, friend behold Who will to me the hidden facts unfold, One who will kindly to the Stranger show What much he wishes and yet fears to know! (D.) instead of ll. 105–6: For who looks backward to the Season fled, The Man departed is the Mortal dead. (D.) instead of l. 115–6: My hungry Mind may by Attention fill, And like the Ghost glide softly where I will. (D.) l. 146: To solve my Doubts: how affable and kind! (D.) l. 148: To all my Questions, and not few have I. (D.) after l. 152: Here, as along the sandy Shore we pace, Shall I hear Tidings of the young and old Of whom I took my leave—my Friend behold! (D.) instead of ll. 1–4: Farewell, my Friend, the Brother of my Heart; With whom ’tis new, ’tis difficult, to part; Whom I from very Infancy approved, And never asked the Question why I loved! (D.) l. 10. for mourner read Weeper. (D.) instead of ll. 11–5: My faults forgiving, sharing in my Joy, A frank, sincere, engaging, generous Boy! My Friend in pleasures of the passing Day, Mine in Disputes as transient as they, Each other’s Champion, never sought the Cause. (D.) l. 13: At School each other’s prompter, and at play. instead of ll. 21–2: And made that first Impression on my breast That rested not—perchance will never rest. (D.) l. 23. for fancy read Passion. (D.) I heard and shudder’d at th’ expected Wound. (D.) after l. 24: And thus we parted, with the same design: He had his Care in View, and I had mine. We wrote not, could not write; nor had we Woes In sentimental Sadness to disclose. Ours were the daily Troubles, such as Men Feel, keenly feel, but give not to the pen— Wounds that in after time may heal indeed, But pain us sorely while they’re fresh and bleed; Cares of the World and of the troubled Day, That in new Troubles die and pass away. But I must cease; or, speaking of my Friend, The Pain and Pleasure would not quickly end. (D.) l. 24. rueful meditation. instead of ll. 24–32: Hour after Hour in rueful Dulness sate, Puzzled and teizing every Boy at Hand; But, having all at last in his Command, All that he needed, and of that possessed— Who would, might think and labour for the rest. Knowledge to win was useless when obtained, As much as told him what he lost or gained; If he had envied Newton, it had been But for the Mint of Money he had seen. (D.) l. 109: The Vermin of the Customs and Excise. (D.) l. 118: some have failed. l. 119: And neither fled the Power nor—satisfied. (D.) instead of ll. 126–7: And to be One in a Concern so Grand } Was a rare Prospect—if it could be planned: } Why, he might build an House, and round it buy him Land! } l. 129: Might condescend in such Abode to dwell. (D.) instead of ll. 132–3: For he had heard in former Days the Chair } Was filled with Honour by a worthy Mayor, } Who had sold Cheese and Vinegar—so there! (D.)} l. 159: Join’d with his Sorrow, Penitence, and Shame. (D.) l. 163: And courts with patient Care the Gains he spurn’d. (D.) Tale IX.Instead of ll. 7–10: Jane, a sick Mother’s Child who dying knew What, when alone, her widow’d Man would do, And, having power, left Jane enough to live A Life of Ease, which none, she judged, would give. (D.) instead of ll. 29–30: Her Talents thus improv’d and thus employ’d, Her Cares are Comforts and her Hours enjoyed. (D.) instead of ll. 39–41: And often said, “What means the idle Boy; Will none his Talents and his Hands employ?” Alas! my Friend, thy Care was all in vain: That Boy had got the Bee within his Brain; But for thy Peace with grateful Heart he pray’d. (D.) l. 51: For then all childish Fancies take their Flight. l. 96. for Sat down read Appear’d. (D.) instead of ll. 97–9: The Thoughts I guess not she appear’d to read, When there came one a Stranger’s Cause to plead— A Stranger she, and enter’d in that Cause. l. 106: “True I’m his Mistress, am”—— “But what is he?” (D.) l. 106: but then what is he? l. 112: The Fiend he served, then prompting his Deceit. after l. 130: Reproach and Shame the peaceful Muse offend, And Tales of Vice and Error soon should end. (D.) l. 148: The Lover sought with all a Lover’s Skill. (D.) l. 158: Who were as happy as they were before. (D.) after l. 158: Yet such his Influence that his Victim found Her Bosom wounded with a hopeless Wound. (D.) l. 159: Not so his Victim. l. 167: The open Insult or the secret Pain. (D.) l. 5: Adieu, thou noble Pile, I kiss the sacred Ground. (D.) instead of ll. 24–5: So to her Chaplain she the one commends, And to the sick the village doctor sends. And keeps the antient Credit of the Hall. after l. 64: And loves the Part unseen from what is now in sight. (D.) after l. 66: Is not the idle Scheme of a projecting Hand. (D.) instead of ll. 80–4: This is the Spring; then Summer comes in pride, } Pure, silent streams, here hid and there discried, } Feed the unnumbered fry, that there glide; } Then steals th’ Autumnal Prospect o’er the Leaf. (D.) instead of l. 84: Then steals th’ Autumnal Prospect o’er the Leaf. l. 105. for behold read survey. (D.) l. 106: That Seat so honour’d, honour’d in decay. (D.) After l. 10: Here some for Cinders are in Ovens made, There Iron bars by Stacks of Deal are laid. instead of ll. 21–2: There is no Merchant, far or near, supplied With so much Store: no wonder he has Pride! (D.) after l. 58: But I must leave this lofty Man of Trade To make my Fortune—his is ready made. (D.) variant of ll. 66–8: And the Man waits till One advances more; What time the Lady, gliding through the Crowd, Makes her advance as she proceeds, aloud. instead of ll. 77–8: It is our Alms-house: men in years decay’d Are here sustain’d, once flourishing in Trade. (D.) l. 106: Would fain the Kindness that supports him hide. (D.) after l. 140: And, when I Male or female have addrest, I see them count the Buttons on my breast. Tale XII.Instead of ll. 9–14: Office and Wealth, and with disdain he sees His Brother Burgess in pursuit of these. He goes to Church and he is so content, Because his Father and his kindred went; But still some Reasons for Dissent he states, And on this point, at least, prevaricates. (D.) variant of l. 10: Of Wealth increasing, till he said “No more.” after l. 10: Office he hates, and with Disdain he sees His Brother seeking or possessing these. variant of ll. 11–4: He goes to Church, but is not quite content; } He goes indeed, because his Father went; } But he has Bias leaning to Dissent. } Reasons for this and all Dissent be gives, And thus at Variance with himself he lives. variant of ll. 23–4: James then retorts, “’Tis better this than place Your Hopes upon his Lordship or his Grace.” variant of ll. 29–32: “They call you loyal, and you use your Call To gain a Something by attempting all; And, if this Treasure to your Coffer bring, The Slave no wonder cries, ‘God save the King.’” after l. 36 “Do change your Name, and let our Father’s live In all the Credit Loyalty will give.” after l. 66: Hear then, while I the pleasing fact reveal } And prove that Men, nay Men of Party, feel, } And Love, when nicely moved, Conflicting Tempers heal. } Men toil for Learning half their younger Days, Yet fail to give it in their Ladies Praise. (D.) instead of ll. 24–5: Miranda loves about her Chair to see As many Men as can collected be. (D.) l. 24. Diana. l. 27: And passes thus her Mornings and her Nights. (D.) after l. 33: For its own Life with other Creeds to shift. (D.) For its own Life with other Creeds to shift. after l. 41: In all political Concerns at Home She tells us what they did in Greece and Rome; Of their Intrigues and Actions takes a View, And knows as well what we ourselves should do. (D.) l. 69. for Joanna read her. l. 70. Diana. instead of l. 77: He should be thought or difficult or dry. He should be thought or difficult or dry. (D.) after l. 85: As Critic she each Author’s Merit weighs And doles them out the due return of Praise; With equal Weight her many Censures fall, She knows the Merit and the Faults of all. Long are the Letters she receives, and fond She seems of Authors who will correspond. These to her humbler friends she proudly shows, And tells what literary Debts she owes; How many send her Works that give her Pain; She will be just! and they, alas! are vain, The foolish Creatures will her Judgment ask, And then they blame her Sentence—such her Task! Though she herself a ready Mistress makes Of every Science that she undertakes, Yet four or five are all she knows at most All she has mustered and can truly boast. (D.) l. 105. for the envious mass read capricious man. l. 107. for the world read proud man. after l. 109: “But where the learned Lady?” “Who, Sir, who?” } “She, my good Friend, who every Science knew; } The Triflers of her sex and ours pronounced her Blue. (D.)} l. 120. Diana Tompson. And those who once around her Table drew Are now diminished to an humble Few. after l. 131: Not that such Guests were by the palate led, Or would have aught except the Spirit fed; Yet, while the food of minds the men pursue, They judge it well to feed the Body too. The Frame’s supporters without that supply, } The Nerves, become unstrung; the Spirits fly, } And e’en the Tongue itself grows weary, faint, and dry; } And, like a noble but neglected Steed, Drops in the Race and falters in his speed. Diana’s Care displeased the selfish Crew, And all forsook her but a generous few. With these was Michael Sprat—let none deride A learned Sadler, or a Sadler’s pride! Him the wise Lady to her Friendship took, } And chose a Man as she would choose a Book— } For the intrinsic Worth, and not the outward Look. } Beside the Lady Michael took his chair, And people talked about the learned Pair; And vulgar Tongues, alas! a numerous Kind, Who cannot feel how Mind is mixed with Mind, Began the subject in such way to treat As if such Lady could be indiscreet; And, that the venom of such tongues might cease, They chose to marry and to live in peace. Now mark their Malice: when the learned Maid Had such a price for Reputation paid, The Guest at once the wedded friends forsook And left the Lady to her Spouse and Book. Still worse, the man ungratefully denied T’ assist the studies of his Friend and Bride; Retracted all that he had said before, And would be saddled with such Tasks no more! And, how they liv’d and lov’d from year to year, Or how they studied, does not yet appear. At length the Sadler died; but yet not now Would Men the Honour of the Past allow. (D.) after l. 149: Now had this Lady with a common View Married, and done as other Ladies do; Attended only to the poor Concerns Which any Woman without Genius learns; Govern’d her Household in a decent Way, And taught her Nurslings how to read and pray. Had she, the Mistress of a mighty Mind, Her Pride to this and to her House confined, And only read, not criticised, a Book— Such is the World, it had the Life approv’d, And ten to one the Husband’s self had lov’d. (D.) Variant of Title: THE WIDOW SOPHIA. the Tale opens: Some female Minds are with such Strength endued, Man they excell in genuine Fortitude. A Widow now, Sophia once sustained The Toils of War and in a Camp remained. (D.) instead of l. 8: By Reasons powerful at such time, to wed. instead of ll. 36–7: She is not one at tales of Woe to faint, Or weep at Sorrows dreaming Poets paint. (D.) variant of ll. 46–7: “Where now the Lady, with that mental strength And even Temper, does she rest at length? Weds she again, and does her second Choice In all her strength and Energies rejoice? (D.) l. 54: for yet young was read expiring. l. 93: Nay, and for his, the Voyage would undertake. (D.) l. 96: The Rage of Men who could not hold their Prey. (D.) instead of ll. 114–5: The Husband died; and, having now the Skill To know a Wife, judicious was his Will. (D.) instead of l. 169: And largely mixt with Sorrow and Contempt. Instead of l. 21: Who will Belinda wed? it seems, must Chance decide. after l. 30: The Butcher brought it, ’tis the Butcher’s Care; ’Tis cooked below, but how she cannot tell; Above ’tis eaten, and so all is well. (D.) For some are born to eat what some are born to earn. (D.) l. 45: for her critic’s indolence read that springs from Indolence. after l. 64: Not yet from Scotland came the yearly set That put all Europe in the Author’s Debt. instead of ll. 100–1: She wonders why the Butcher brings his Bill; She wonders why a Tradesman will not trust. l. 108: for fretted read petted. l. 111: That she shall faint and die; she faints but never dies. after l. 131: Who for no venturous Deed the Praise assumes, But bills and coos and smooths her shining Plumes. (D.) Variant of Title: THE WEALTHY MERCHANT AND CONSCIENCIOUS CLERK. l. 4: For—but the terms are only known to friends (D.) l. 15: Her he immures and fixes in her stead. (D.) instead of ll. 25–6: The cruel Man who robs him fain would lend Aid to his Grief—his Grief is near its End. (D.) after l. 45: There are who reason, but in reasoning stray Because they deviate from the plain, right Way; Who by their own just feelings might abide And seldom need a Caution or a Guide. (D.) instead of ll. 51–2: In paths of Danger and beware of Sleep— A Guide he needed, for his Mind was slow. (D.) l. 75: I from this bold, bad Spirit must depart. (D.) after l. 79: Thus reasoned John who, by his feelings led, Had from his Place as from Contagion fled. (D.) l. 96: “But, O my Conscience, be not you beguiled.” (D.) after l. 97: “’Twas thus I left John Pewit; can you state How he and Conscience finished their Debate?” (D.) The Wife whom now her Husband’s Death had freed. instead of l. 122: The Man now left appeared awhile as one. after l. 170: ’Tis a dull story, and of one so vile I have no Hope that I can raise a Smile; But from a Life so vile, a Death so swift, Reflecting Man a moral thought may sift. Variant of Title: THE FRIENDS. l. 23. for in their maturer read that in their quiet. instead of l. 45: Not with embroidery rich nor pieced and poor. variant of l. 86: And are the Parents of that Pair allied? instead of ll. 159–60: For now the Quay and Shipping, once his pride, Were with his blue Surtout laid all aside. instead of ll. 247–8: For they alone, by Love and Hope sustained, The Sole Advantage of the Visit gained. l. 335. for Just then her chance read Then ’twas her chance. instead of l. 357: But in his Breast no more a Flame would grow For her whose Heart a second Love could know. l. 11. for stiff sailors read strong Spirits. l. 146. for For man’s read At man’s. after l. 194: Once more he said, “What more must now be past?” The Captain call’d and made that Once the Last. The storm without, within them—but I dwell Too long in telling what I dread to tell. l. 137. for rises read offered. l. 171. for sea read Seat. l. 195. for her lips read those. After l. 29: “Suppose I err, yet still your Son has shewn That he believes his Father’s Lands his own— Not his in Strictness of the Law, but yet By an implied and uncontracted Debt. after l. 176: “He who beheld thee in thy Closet—none In Sight, in hearing—thou, it seemed, alone. instead of ll. 183: “Go to thy trial! me thou may’st believe, Yet doubt of that; but me thou may’st deceive. Him thou can’st not, and so may I with thee. Variant of title: THE FRIEND. instead of l. 14: He was not made their Victim or their Dupe. instead of ll. 51–2: May now present a face of Griefs and pains, Where not a Grace or sprightly Look remains. (D.) instead of ll. 80–1: But, though her Precepts I had not obeyed, Religious thoughts had made my Soul afraid. (D.) l. 147: “Something to sweeten Labour; What care I?” (D.) after l. 196: Of his successful Voyage we know full well; But I of no discovered Worlds can tell. (D.) l. 200: for worst read Ease. (D.) MISCELLANEOUS PIECES PREVIOUSLY PRINTED.Variants in transcripts from Belvoir MSS. These are distinguished as ‘B.’ Variants in Crabbe MSS. in the possession of the Cambridge University Press. These are distinguished as ‘U.P.’ Variants in Crabbe MSS. in the possession of Mrs. Mackay. These are distinguished as ‘M.’ STORM AND CALM.l. 42. The noon and night. l. 54. powers. (B.) BELVOIR CASTLE.Title. for Written at the request of the Duchess Dowager of Rutland... read Written at the request of Mary Isabella, Duchess Dowager of Rutland ... l. 18. for recess read keep. l. 51. for Then read There. l. 69. for massy read mossy. after l. 74: “I fear, when this my noble Work decays, None then shall live a rival Pile to raise. after l. 78: In the still Night and in his Hours of Rest } Thoughts of the kind in Dreams his Soul possess’d; } He view’d the Place he lov’d, and what he felt express’d: } “Hail, favorite Seat, The Valley’s Crown and Pride! Would in thy Glory thou might’st still abide, Nor feel the Lapse of Ages; but thy Doom, Strong as Thou art, and Beautiful, must come. When thou art then but as a Ruin known, And a new Structure to that Age is shown, Like the First Temple’s shall thy Fortune be; The Old shall sigh an humble Dome to see; That Lord himself will say—‘In ancient Time, Not in our days, were built the Towers Sublime; We cannot equal Works so grand, so vast; The Wealth is wanted, and the Power is past, Gone is the Glory of the far-fam’d Hill; The Sons arrive not at their Fathers’ Skill, O’er what vast space the Noble Ruins press, And Time has done what Time cannot redress.’” l. 79. for sigh’d read spake. l. 111. for kingdoms read islands. l. 112. for And one great sovereign read And but one sovereign. after l. 116: “And all thy Building can of Fate obtain Is, that with his some Portion may remain.” “I see them yet; Those Terraces I trace, That noble Tower, that light but sacred Place. Yes Time shall be that, what the Vision told, In very Truth shall that blest Age behold; And then this Mansion I so proudly made, These strong Foundations for my Glory laid, Shall to another yield its honour’d Name, And a new Belvoir shine in cloudless Fame.” l. 123. for pile shall mine read Work shalt thou. l. 124. for his read them. l. 125. for its read thy. (B.) LINES WRITTEN AT WARWICK.Variant of title: GUY OF WARWICK. A POEM IN PRAISE OF GUY. l. 12. for some read her. l. 39. her food was men. (U.P.) ON A DRAWING OF THE ELM TREE, ETC.Variant of title: A DRAWING OF THE WATERLOO TREE. after l. 6: Of him who bad the World’s disturber cease From his dire course, and gave the Nations peace. l. 14. for thy read this. l. 19. Shall see thy glory. l. 20. for a read their. after l. 27: In times far off shall the ambitious Muse That Field of Glory for her subject choose; When every spot where noble deeds were done— And not a spot was there unmarked by one— Each little space, unknown thro’ many a year, Shall then in some immortal verse appear. Here fell some Hero; there the foe began To feel his Fate and learn that he was Man, And doomed to yield—not now, as when he fled } Through Northern Climes, and o’er the frozen Bed } Of Icy Death, and o’er the unwounded Dead— } But Man to Man, and Troop to Troop, the last Hard Strife for Conquest—and then all was past. Here stood this Tree, and, tho’ no more it stands, Its very Picture our Respect commands, Thanks to the Skill that gives to many an Eye The view that every Heart must gratify. Trees may, perhaps, of loftier kind be found, But none more glorious in the World around. Yet no Memorial shall that Field require That shall the Soldier, that the Britton, fire; And many a Pilgrim to that Field shall go, } To see where stood the Chief when fled the Foe, } And talk at his return of Deeds at Waterloo. (U.P.)} ON RECEIVING ... A PRESENT OF A RING.After l. 26: The fond Esteem by Time endear’d, The Worth respected, lov’d, revered, Of either Heart the Knowledge gain’d That nothing there is false or feign’d, And all the dear domestic Cares And Joys that Friendship soothes or shares. (U.P.) TO A LADY ... AT SIDMOUTH.Instead of ll. 3–4: Must go, and leave my aching Heart, What must that Heart adore, behind me. l. 21. for makes read wakes. l. 28. for those read more. (B.) TO SARAH, COUNTESS OF JERSEY....Title. The date, 4 March 1814, is added. l. 6. for a read the. l. 12. for to read do. l. 13. for should read to. (B.) l. 5. for As read Like. l. 7. for when read while. l. 8: He checks the Spirit that he tries to raise. l. 22: Those Charms that seize the Eye or win the Heart. l. 23. for propitious read returning. (M.) THE FRIEND IN LOVE.l. 4: By borrowing Friendship’s softer Name. instead of ll. 6–7: And yet must all the Signs suppress, Nor look for those soft Smiles that cure. l. 9: When she kind Looks to others lend. l. 11. for then read yet. l. 12. for torments read tears. l. 15: And ever angry Thought correct. l. 17. for such read these. l. 19. for These read The. for hope read hopes. l. 20. for These read The. (B.) [ON THE DEATH OF SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY.]l. 16. for Thou wouldst read He would. l. 18. for thy read his. l. 20. for wrest read arrest. (U.P.) LINES ADDRESSED TO THE DOWAGER DUCHESS OF RUTLAND.l. 12. for Three read These. l. 18. for temper read tender. for cried read said. l. 19. for test read proof. l. 35. for say read cry. l. 40. for in read on. (B.) |
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