Him in iron case
(Reader, forgive the intolerable thought)
They hung not:--no one on _his_ form or face 660
Could gaze, as on a show by idlers sought;
No kindred sufferer, to his death-place brought
By lawless curiosity or chance,
When into storm the evening sky is wrought,
Upon his swinging corse an eye can glance, 665
And drop, as he once dropped, in miserable trance.
(Reader, forgive the intolerable thought)
They hung not:--no one on _his_ form or face 660
Could gaze, as on a show by idlers sought;
No kindred sufferer, to his death-place brought
By lawless curiosity or chance,
When into storm the evening sky is wrought,
Upon his swinging corse an eye can glance, 665
And drop, as he once dropped, in miserable trance.
Wordsworth - 1
"
LXIX
Alas! the thing she told with labouring breath
The Sailor knew too well. That wickedness
His hand had wrought; and when, in the hour of death, 615
He saw his Wife's lips move his name to bless
With her last words, unable to suppress
His anguish, with his heart he ceased to strive;
And, weeping loud in this extreme distress,
He cried--"Do pity me! That thou shouldst live 620
I neither ask nor wish--forgive me, but forgive! "
LXX
To tell the change that Voice within her wrought
Nature by sign or sound made no essay;
A sudden joy surprised expiring thought,
And every mortal pang dissolved away. 625
Borne gently to a bed, in death she lay;
Yet still while over her the husband bent,
A look was in her face which seemed to say,
"Be blest: by sight of thee from heaven was sent
Peace to my parting soul, the fulness of content. " 630
LXXI
_She_ slept in peace,--his pulses throbbed and stopped,
Breathless he gazed upon her face,--then took
Her hand in his, and raised it, but both dropped,
When on his own he cast a rueful look.
His ears were never silent; sleep forsook 635
His burning eyelids stretched and stiff as lead;
All night from time to time under him shook
The floor as he lay shuddering on his bed;
And oft he groaned aloud, "O God, that I were dead! "
LXXII
The Soldier's Widow lingered in the cot; 640
And, when he rose, he thanked her pious care
Through which his Wife, to that kind shelter brought,
Died in his arms; and with those thanks a prayer
He breathed for her, and for that merciful pair.
The corse interred, not one hour he remained 645
Beneath their roof, but to the open air
A burthen, now with fortitude sustained,
He bore within a breast where dreadful quiet reigned.
LXXIII
Confirmed of purpose, fearlessly prepared
For act and suffering, to the city straight 650
He journeyed, and forthwith his crime declared:
"And from your doom," he added, "now I wait,
Nor let it linger long, the murderer's fate. "
Not ineffectual was that piteous claim:
"O welcome sentence which will end though late," 655
He said, "the pangs that to my conscience came
Out of that deed. My trust, Saviour! is in thy name! "
LXXIV
His fate was pitied.
Him in iron case
(Reader, forgive the intolerable thought)
They hung not:--no one on _his_ form or face 660
Could gaze, as on a show by idlers sought;
No kindred sufferer, to his death-place brought
By lawless curiosity or chance,
When into storm the evening sky is wrought,
Upon his swinging corse an eye can glance, 665
And drop, as he once dropped, in miserable trance.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1845.
Three years . . . 1842. ]
[Variant 2:
1845.
. . . rose and pursued . . . 1842. ]
[Variant 3:
1845.
.
LXIX
Alas! the thing she told with labouring breath
The Sailor knew too well. That wickedness
His hand had wrought; and when, in the hour of death, 615
He saw his Wife's lips move his name to bless
With her last words, unable to suppress
His anguish, with his heart he ceased to strive;
And, weeping loud in this extreme distress,
He cried--"Do pity me! That thou shouldst live 620
I neither ask nor wish--forgive me, but forgive! "
LXX
To tell the change that Voice within her wrought
Nature by sign or sound made no essay;
A sudden joy surprised expiring thought,
And every mortal pang dissolved away. 625
Borne gently to a bed, in death she lay;
Yet still while over her the husband bent,
A look was in her face which seemed to say,
"Be blest: by sight of thee from heaven was sent
Peace to my parting soul, the fulness of content. " 630
LXXI
_She_ slept in peace,--his pulses throbbed and stopped,
Breathless he gazed upon her face,--then took
Her hand in his, and raised it, but both dropped,
When on his own he cast a rueful look.
His ears were never silent; sleep forsook 635
His burning eyelids stretched and stiff as lead;
All night from time to time under him shook
The floor as he lay shuddering on his bed;
And oft he groaned aloud, "O God, that I were dead! "
LXXII
The Soldier's Widow lingered in the cot; 640
And, when he rose, he thanked her pious care
Through which his Wife, to that kind shelter brought,
Died in his arms; and with those thanks a prayer
He breathed for her, and for that merciful pair.
The corse interred, not one hour he remained 645
Beneath their roof, but to the open air
A burthen, now with fortitude sustained,
He bore within a breast where dreadful quiet reigned.
LXXIII
Confirmed of purpose, fearlessly prepared
For act and suffering, to the city straight 650
He journeyed, and forthwith his crime declared:
"And from your doom," he added, "now I wait,
Nor let it linger long, the murderer's fate. "
Not ineffectual was that piteous claim:
"O welcome sentence which will end though late," 655
He said, "the pangs that to my conscience came
Out of that deed. My trust, Saviour! is in thy name! "
LXXIV
His fate was pitied.
Him in iron case
(Reader, forgive the intolerable thought)
They hung not:--no one on _his_ form or face 660
Could gaze, as on a show by idlers sought;
No kindred sufferer, to his death-place brought
By lawless curiosity or chance,
When into storm the evening sky is wrought,
Upon his swinging corse an eye can glance, 665
And drop, as he once dropped, in miserable trance.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1845.
Three years . . . 1842. ]
[Variant 2:
1845.
. . . rose and pursued . . . 1842. ]
[Variant 3:
1845.
.
