The
CRUEL
PARENT
.
A
DREAM
.
'TWAS
when
the
Sun
had
his
swift
Progress
made
,
And
left
his
Empire
to
the
Queen
of
Shade
;
Bright
Cynthia
too
,
with
her
refulgent
Train
,
Shot
their
pale
Lustre
o'er
the
dewy
Plain
:
Sat
lonely
Mira
with
her
Head
reclin'd
,
And
mourn'd
the
Sorrows
of
her
helpless
Kind
:
Then
to
her
Fancy
Celia's
Woes
appear
,
The
Nymph
,
whose
Tale
deserves
a
pitying
Tear
;
Whose
early
Beauties
met
a
swift
Decay
;
A
Rose
that
faded
at
the
rising
Day
,
While
Grief
and
Shame
oppress'd
her
tender
Age
,
Pursu'd
by
Famine
and
a
Father's
Rage
;
Till
too
much
Thought
the
aking
Heart
oppress'd
.
And
Mira's
Eye-lids
clos'd
in
silent
Rest
:
Then
active
Fancy
,
with
her
airy
Train
,
Compos'd
the
Substance
of
the
ensuing
Dream
.
In
a
black
Shade
my
wand'ring
Self
I
found
,
A
Wood
encircl'd
by
a
thorny
Bound
;
Where
Oaks
up-rais'd
their
kingly
Heads
on
high
,
And
the
pleas'd
Linnets
thro'
the
Branches
fly
:
There
lofty
Elms
the
wond'ring
Skies
invade
,
And
the
dark
Cypress
cast
a
browner
Shade
:
Grave
Laurels
there
the
humbler
Shrubs
o'erlook
;
There
the
pale
Ash
,
and
there
the
Poplar
shook
;
Here
pliant
Elder
whom
her
Fruits
adorn
,
And
the
brown
Hasel
wove
with
shagged
Thorn
:
Rude
Briers
there
their
clasping
Tendrels
twine
,
Whose
rugged
Arms
with
useless
Roses
shine
.
Beyond
the
Confines
of
the
dusky
Brake
,
A
Plain
was
bounded
with
a
putrid
Lake
,
Where
Planks
of
Timber
stretch'd
on
mould'ring
Beams
,
Form'd
a
weak
Passage
o'er
the
standing
Streams
,
Whose
slimy
Waters
to
its
Arches
clung
,
Where
wrap'd
in
Weeds
the
clodded
Vermin
hung
,
On
this
brown
Plain
surrounded
by
the
Wood
,
And
the
green
Lake
—
an
aged
Castle
stood
;
Whose
iron
Gates
were
strictly
shut
to
all
,
And
frowning
Roofs
hung
o'er
the
crumbling
Wall
:
Here
perch'd
Revenge
and
ever-wasting
Care
,
And
Melancholy
with
dishivel'd
Hair
.
Before
the
Portals
wait
a
grisly
Band
,
Fraud
with
a
Pencil
in
her
shaking
Hand
:
Long
Scrolls
of
Parchment
at
her
Feet
were
laid
,
Behind
her
Shoulder
stood
her
ghastly
Maid
:
Oppreffion
nam'd
—
and
stretch'd
her
filthy
Claw
,
And
next
pale
Av'rice
with
insatiate
Maw
;
Two
cumbrous
Bags
his
twining
Arms
infold
,
Of
canker'd
Silver
and
of
useless
Gold
:
Grimly
he
stands
,
and
by
his
Side
appears
Fierce
Cruelty
,
all
drench'd
in
Orphans
Tears
;
Within
(
attended
by
relentless
Hate
)
Suspicion
squinted
through
the
barbarous
Grate
:
To
these
rude
Doors
approach'd
with
bashful
Mien
,
Soft
Celia
once
the
brightest
of
the
Plain
,
But
now
the
Roses
from
her
Cheeks
were
flown
,
Nor
cou'd
the
Fair
One
by
her
Charms
be
known
;
Those
Charms
are
now
in
sable
Weeds
array'd
,
Her
Arm
supported
by
a
mournful
Maid
:
From
her
wan
Eyes
the
Tears
incessant
flow
,
And
all
her
Form
was
Penitence
and
Woe
.
But
see
Lysegus
,
her
relentless
Sire
,
Whose
Eye-balls
sparkl'd
with
disdainful
Ire
;
His
potent
Hand
the
sounding
Locks
obey
,
With
grating
Noise
the
horrid
Gates
gave
way
:
Then
prostrate
at
his
Feet
the
Damsel
lay
.
Three
times
to
speak
the
lovely
Mourner
try'd
;
Thrice
on
her
Lips
the
fainting
Murmurs
dy'd
;
Sigh
follows
Sigh
,
and
Tear
succeeds
to
Tear
:
At
length
she
cry'd
—
Ah
!
may
Lysegus
hear
;
If
Nature
or
if
Penitence
may
sue
,
Ah
!
let
my
Sorrows
find
Relief
from
you
;
The
nightly
Stars
my
constant
Wailings
know
,
The
rising
Sun
is
Witness
to
my
Woe
:
But
who
shall
paint
what
wretched
Celia
feels
,
While
Shame
and
Famine
hunt
her
flying
Heels
:
The
Fools
deride
me
,
and
the
virtuous
shun
,
Then
to
the
Fields
and
lonely
Shades
I
run
;
Yet
find
no
Comfort
from
the
lonely
Shade
,
At
my
Approach
the
Blossoms
seem
to
fade
:
I
fly
to
Wilds
unknown
to
human
Kind
,
But
cannot
leave
my
hated
Self
behind
;
And
am
—
Oh
am
I
—
by
my
Parent
curs'd
;
Of
all
my
Woes
the
deepest
and
the
worst
:
She
said
—
Lysegus
answer'd
in
a
Rage
,
Hence
vile
Disturber
of
my
luckless
Age
:
Think
not
by
Tears
this
stubborn
Heart
to
win
,
Nor
jar
my
Senses
with
thy
hateful
Din
:
Go
learn
of
Vagrants
(
fit
Companions
)
go
,
Their
Arts
of
Stealing
and
their
Whine
of
Woe
.
Yet
when
before
the
Gate
of
Pride
you
stand
,
And
crave
your
Morsel
at
the
Porter's
Hand
;
May
some
stern
Slave
prevent
the
coming
Prize
,
Thrown
to
the
Dogs
before
thy
longing
Eyes
:
He
ceas'd
—
but
Celia
views
no
more
the
Sun
,
For
now
her
Sorrow
with
her
Life
was
done
:
Her
Eyes
no
more
afford
their
lucid
Streams
,
Nor
the
Pulse
struggles
in
her
quiet
Veins
.
The
Tyrant
view'd
her
with
a
ghastly
Look
,
His
Heart
beat
heavy
,
and
his
Sinews
shook
;
When
lo
a
Spectre
horrible
to
view
,
Rose
quick
as
Vapours
of
a
Morning
Dew
;
Whose
Presence
cast
unpleasing
Darkness
round
,
A
Cypress
Wreath
his
faded
Temples
crown'd
:
Strange
Forms
were
painted
on
his
sable
Robe
,
One
Hand
extended
bore
a
crystal
Globe
;
Where
the
pale
Sinner
might
his
Picture
find
,
Yet
not
his
Features
,
but
his
darker
Mind
:
In
vain
to
shun
the
faithful
Glass
he
tries
,
It
plays
unask'd
before
his
aking
Eyes
:
His
quick
left
Hand
with
this
perform'd
its
Part
,
His
Right
was
dreadful
with
a
poison'd
Dart
:
Then
with
a
loud
and
horrid
Voice
he
cry'd
,
Lysegus
,
mourn
thy
Cruelty
and
Pride
:
From
the
fair
Court
of
Equity
I
came
,
Call'd
by
thy
Sins
,
and
Conscience
is
my
Name
:
This
venom'd
Dart
shall
now
thy
Entrails
tear
,
And
teach
thy
Eyes
to
know
the
melting
Tear
:
Prepare
thy
Spirits
for
their
Weight
of
Woe
,
With
Celia's
Name
I
arm
the
dreadful
Blow
:
He
said
and
struck
—
the
visionary
Dart
Sought
the
dark
Bottom
of
Lysegus'
Heart
:
He
fell
—
and
falling
rais'd
a
fearful
Cry
;
Then
Mira
'woke
,
and
found
the
Morning
Sky
.