Rural Tales, Ballads, and Songs by Robert Bloomfield (motivational books to read txt) 📖

said his eyes----

For, as he spoke, a big round drop
Fell bounding on his ample sleeve;
A witness which he could not stop,
A witness which all hearts believe.

Thou, FILIAL PIETY, wert there;
And round the ring, benignly bright,
Dwelt in the luscious half-shed tear,
And in the parting word--_Good Night_.

_The Return home._

With thankful Hearts and strengthen'd Love,
The poor old PAIR, supremely blest,
Saw the Sun sink behind the grove,
And gain'd once more their lowly rest.




WALTER AND JANE: or, THE POOR BLACKSMITH.

_A Country Tale._

Bright was the summer sky, the Mornings gay,
And Jane was young and chearful as the Day.
Not yet to Love but Mirth she paid her vows;
And Echo mock'd her as she call'd her Cows.
Tufts of green Broom, that full in blossom vied,
And grac'd with spotted gold the upland side,
The level fogs o'erlook'd; too high to share;
So lovely JANE o'erlook'd the clouds of Care;

_Jane._

No meadow-flow'r rose fresher to the view,
That met her morning footsteps in the dew;
Where, if a nodding stranger ey'd her charms,
The blush of innocence was up in arms,
Love's random glances struck the unguarded mind,
And Beauty's magic made him look behind.
Duly as morning blush'd or twilight came,
Secure of greeting smiles and Village fame,
She pass'd the Straw-roof'd Shed, in ranges where
Hung many a well-turn'd Shoe and glitt'ring _Share_;
Where WALTER, as the charmer tripp'd along,
Would stop his roaring Bellows and his Song.--
Dawn of affection; Love's delicious sigh!
Caught from the lightnings of a speaking eye,
That leads the heart to rapture or to woe,
'Twas WALTER'S fate thy mad'ning power to know;
And scarce to know, ere in its infant twine,
As the Blast shakes the tendrils of the Vine,

_The Separation._

The budding bliss that full of promise grew
The chilling blight of separation knew.
Scarce had he told his heart's unquiet case,
And JANE to shun him ceas'd to mend her pace,
And learnt to listen trembling as he spoke,
And fondly judge his words beyond a joke;
When, at the Goal that bounds our prospects here,
Jane's widow'd Mistress ended her career:
Blessings attended her divided store,
The Mansion sold, (Jane's peaceful home no more,)
A distant Village own'd her for its Queen,
Another service, and another scene;
But could another scene so pleasing prove,
Twelve weary miles from Walter and from Love?
The Maid grew thoughtful: yet to Fate resign'd,
Knew not the worth of what she left behind.
He, when at Eve releas'd from toil and heat,
Soon miss'd the smiles that taught his heart to beat,

_The Lover's-Journey._

Each sabbath-day of late was wont to prove
Hope's liberal feast, the holiday of Love:
But now, upon his spirit's ebbing strength
Came each dull hour's intolerable length.
The next had scarcely dawn'd when Walter hied
O'er hill and dale, Affection for his guide:
O'er the brown Heath his pathless journey lay,
Where screaming Lapwings hail'd the op'ning day.
High rose the Sun, the anxious Lover sigh'd;
His slipp'ry soles bespoke the dew was dried:
Her last farewell hung fondly on his tongue
As o'er the tufted Furze elate he sprung;
Trifling impediments; his heart was light,
For Love and Beauty glow'd in fancy's sight;
And soon he gaz'd on Jane's enchanting face,
Renew'd his passion,--but, destroy'd his peace.
Truth, at whose shrine he bow'd, inflicted pain;
And Conscience whisper'd, '_Never come again_.'

_Self-Denial._

For now, his tide of gladness to oppose,
A clay-cold damp of doubts and fears arose;
Clouds, which involve, midst Love and Reason's strife,
The poor man's prospect when he takes a wife.
Though gay his journeys in the Summer's prime,
Each seem'd the repetition of a crime;
He never left her but with many a sigh,
When tears stole down his face, she knew not why.
Severe his task those visits to forego,
And feed his heart with voluntary woe.
Yet this he did; the wan Moon circling found
His evenings cheerless, and his rest unsound;
And saw th' unquenched flame his bosom swell:
What were his doubts, thus let the Story tell
A month's sharp conflict only serv'd to prove
The pow'r, as well as truth, of Walter's love.
Absence more strongly on his mind portray'd
His own sweet, injur'd, unoffending Maid.

_The renew'd Journey._

Once more he'd go; full resolute awhile,
But heard his native Bells on every stile;
The sound recall'd him with a pow'rful charm,
The Heath wide open'd, and the day was warm;
There, where a bed of tempting green he found,
Increasing anguish weigh'd him to the ground;
His well-grown limbs the scatter'd Daisies press'd,
While his clinch'd hand fell heavy on his breast.
'Why do I go in cruel sport to say,
"I love thee, Jane; appoint the happy day?"
'Why seek her sweet ingenuous reply,
'Then grasp her hand and proffer--poverty?
'Why, if I love her and adore her name,
'Why act like time and sickness on her frame?
'Why should my scanty pittance nip her prime,
'And chace away the Rose before its time?
'I'm young, 'tis true; the world beholds me free;
'Labour ne'er show'd a frightful face to me;

_Love of Prudence._

'Nature's first wants hard labour _should_ supply;
'But should it fail, 'twill be too late to fly.
'Some Summers hence, if nought our loves annoy,
'The image of my Jane may lisp her joy;
'Or, blooming boys with imitative swing
'May mock my arm, and make the Anvil ring;
'Then if in rags.--But, O my heart, forbear,--
'I love the Girl, and why should I despair?
'And that I love her all the village knows;
'Oft from my pain the mirth of others flows;
'As when a neighbour's Steed with glancing eye
'Saw his par'd hoof supported on my thigh:
'Jane pass'd that instant; mischief came of course;
'I drove the nail awry and lam'd the Horse;
'The poor beast limp'd: I bore a Master's frown,
'A thousand times I wish'd the wound my own.
'When to these tangling thoughts I've been resign'd,
'Fury or languor has possess'd my mind,

_Recollections_.

'All eyes have stared, I've blown a blast so strong;
'Forgot to smite at all, or smote too long.
'If at the Ale-house door, with careless glee
'One drinks to Jane, and darts a look on me;
'I feel that blush which her dear name will bring,
'I feel:--but, guilty Love, 'tis not thy sting!
'Yet what are jeers? the bubbles of an hour;
'Jane knows what Love can do, and feels its pow'r;
'In her mild eye fair Truth her meaning tells;
'Tis not in looks like her's that falsehood dwells.
'As water shed upon a dusty way
'I've seen midst downward pebbles devious stray;
'If kindred drops an adverse channel keep,
'The crystal friends toward each other creep;
'Near, and still nearer, rolls each little tide,
'Th' expanding mirror swells on either side:
'They touch--'tis done--receding bound'ries fly,
'An instantaneous union strikes the eye:

_The Interview._

'So 'tis with us: for Jane would be my bride;
'Shall coward fears then turn the bliss aside?'
While thus he spoke he heard a gentle sound,
That seem'd a jarring footstep on the ground:
Asham'd of grief, he bade his eyes unclose,
And shook with agitation as he rose;
All unprepared the sweet surprise to bear;
His heart beat high, for Jane herself was there.--
Flusht was her cheek; she seem'd the full-blown flower,
For warmth gave loveliness a double power;
Round her fair brow the deep confusion ran,
A waving handkerchief became her fan,
Her lips, where dwelt sweet love and smiling ease,
Puff'd gently back the warm assailing breeze.
'I've travell'd all these weary miles with pain,
'To see my native village once again;
'And show my true regard for neighbour _Hind_;
'Not like you, Walter, _she_ was always kind.'

_Resentment and Tenderness_.

'Twas thus, each soft actuation laid aside,
She buoy'd her spirits up with maiden pride;
Disclaimed her love, e'en while she felt the sting;
'What, come for Walter's sake!' 'Twas no such thing.
But when astonishment his tongue releas'd,
Pride's usurpation in an instant ceas'd:
By force he caught her hand as passing by,
And gaz'd upon her half averted eye;
His heart's distraction, and his boding fears
She heard, and answer'd with a flood of tears;
Precious relief; sure friends that forward press
To tell the mind's unspeakable distress.
Ye Youths, whom crimson'd health and genuine fire
Bear joyous on the wings of young desire,
Ye, who still bow to Love's almighty sway,
What could true passion, what could Walter say?
Age, tell me true, nor shake your locks in vain,
Tread back your paths, and be in love again;

_Visit to a Friend_.

In your young days did such a favouring hour
Show you the littleness of wealth and pow'r?
Advent'rous climbers of the Mountain's brow;
While Love, their master, spreads his couch below--
'My dearest Jane,' the untaught Walter cried,
As half repell'd he pleaded by her side;
'My dearest Jane, think of me as you may--'
Thus--still unutter'd what he strove to say,
They breath'd in sighs the anguish of their minds,
And took the path that led to neighbour _Hind's_.

A secret joy the well-known roof inspir'd,
Small was its store, and little they desir'd;
Jane dried her tears; while Walter forward flew
To aid the Dame; who to the brink updrew
The pond'rous Bucket as they reach'd the well,
And scarcely with exhausted breath could tell
How welcome to her Cot the blooming Pair,
O'er whom she watch'd with a maternal care.

_The Expostulation_.

'What ails thee, Jane?' the wary Matron cried;
With heaving breast the modest Maid reply'd,
Now gently moving back her wooden Chair
To shun the current of the cooling air;
'Not much, good Dame; I'm weary by the way;
'Perhaps, anon, I've something else to say.'
Now, while the Seed-cake crumbled on her knee,
And Snowy Jasmine peeped in to see;
And the transparent Lilac at the door,
Full to the Sun its purple honors bore,
The clam'rous Hen her fearless brood display'd,
And march'd around; while thus the Matron said:
'Jane has been weeping, Walter;--prithee why?
'I've seen her laugh, and dance, but never cry.
'But I can guess; with _her_ you should have been,
'When late I saw you loit'ring on the green;
'I'm an old Woman, and the truth may tell:
I say then, Boy, you have not us'd her well.'

_Pleadings of Experience for Love with extreme Prudence._

JANE felt for WALTER; felt his cruel pain,
While Pity's voice brought forth her tears again.
'Don't scold him, Neighbour, he has much to say,
'Indeed he came and met me by the way.'
The Dame resum'd--'Why then, my Children, why
'Do such young bosoms heave the piteous sigh?
'The ills of Life to you are yet unknown;
'Death's sev'ring shaft, and Poverty's cold frown:
'I've felt them both, by turns:--but as they pass'd,
'Strong was my trust, and here I am at last.
'When I dwelt young and cheerful down the _Lane_.
'(And, though I say it, I was much like JANE,)
'O'er flow'ry fields with _Hind_, I lov'd to stray,
'And talk, and laugh, and fool the time away:
'And Care defied; who not one pain could give,
'Till the thought came of how we were to live;
'And then Love plied his arrows thicker still:
'And prov'd victorious;--as he always will.

_The Victory_.

'We brav'd Life's storm together; while that Drone,
'Your poor old Uncle, WALTER, liv'd alone.
'He died the other day: when round his bed
'No tender soothing tear Affection shed--
'Affection!