No More Learning

--You marked a Cottage,
That ragged Dwelling, close beneath a rock
By the brook-side: it is the abode of One,
A Maiden innocent till ensnared by Clifford,
Who soon grew weary of her; but, alas!
What she had seen and suffered turned her brain.
Cast off by her Betrayer, she dwells alone,
Nor moves her hands to any needful work:
She eats her food which every day the peasants
Bring to her hut; and so the Wretch has lived
Ten years; and no one ever heard her voice;
But every night at the first stroke of twelve
She quits her house, and, in the neighbouring Churchyard
Upon the self-same spot, in rain or storm,
She paces out the hour 'twixt twelve and one--
She paces round and round an Infant's grave,
And in the Churchyard sod her feet have worn
A hollow ring; they say it is knee-deep--
Ah! [1] what is here?


[A female Beggar rises up, rubbing her eyes as if in sleep--a Child in
her arms. ]


BEGGAR O Gentlemen, I thank you;
I've had the saddest dream that ever troubled
The heart of living creature. --My poor Babe
Was crying, as I thought, crying for bread
When I had none to give him; whereupon,
I put a slip of foxglove in his hand,
Which pleased him so, that he was hushed at once:
When, into one of those same spotted bells
A bee came darting, which the Child with joy
Imprisoned there, and held it to his ear,
And suddenly grew black, as he would die.


MARMADUKE We have no time for this, my babbling Gossip;
Here's what will comfort you.
[Gives her money. ]


BEGGAR The Saints reward you
For this good deed! --Well, Sirs, this passed away;
And afterwards I fancied, a strange dog,
Trotting alone along the beaten road,
Came to my child as by my side he slept
And, fondling, licked his face, then on a sudden
Snapped fierce to make a morsel of his head:
But here he is,
[kissing the Child]
it must have been a dream.


OSWALD When next inclined to sleep, take my advice,
And put your head, good Woman, under cover.


BEGGAR Oh, Sir, you would not talk thus, if you knew
What life is this of ours, how sleep will master
The weary-worn. --You gentlefolk have got
Warm chambers to your wish. I'd rather be
A stone than what I am.
--But two nights gone,
The darkness overtook me--wind and rain
Beat hard upon my head--and yet I saw
A glow-worm, through the covert of the furze,
Shine calmly as if nothing ailed the sky:
At which I half accused the God in Heaven. --
You must forgive me.


OSWALD Ay, and if you think
The Fairies are to blame, and you should chide
Your favourite saint--no matter--this good day
Has made amends.


BEGGAR Thanks to you both; but, Oh Sir!
How would you like to travel on whole hours
As I have done, my eyes upon the ground,
Expecting still, I knew not how, to find
A piece of money glittering through the dust.


MARMADUKE This woman is a prater. Pray, good Lady!
Do you tell fortunes?


BEGGAR Oh Sir, you are like the rest.
This Little-one--it cuts me to the heart--
Well! they might turn a beggar from their doors,
But there are Mothers who can see the Babe
Here at my breast, and ask me where I bought it:
This they can do, and look upon my face--
But you, Sir, should be kinder.


MARMADUKE Come hither, Fathers,
And learn what nature is from this poor Wretch!


BEGGAR Ay, Sir, there's nobody that feels for us.
Why now--but yesterday I overtook
A blind old Greybeard and accosted him,
I' th' name of all the Saints, and by the Mass
He should have used me better! --Charity!
If you can melt a rock, he is your man;
But I'll be even with him--here again
Have I been waiting for him.