The scenes that once so brilliant shone are past, and can return
no more to cheer the pensive heart; and memory recalls them with
a tear; some lowering cloud succeeds, and all the gay delusive
landscape fades.
[On the Death of a Friend and Schoolfellow (here from "Poetical
Essays" in _Gentleman's Magazine_, vol. 32, 1762), opening lines:
Scarce rolls, alas! o'er mortal buds a year,
But claims afresh the tributary tear:
Soon each fair hope some lowering cloud invades,
And all the gay delusive landscape fades.]
While Alida remained at the village school, surrounded by the festive
scenes of childhood, and pursuing her studies with assiduous emulation,
with the hope of meriting, in future time, the praises of her fond
parents, an unforeseen misfortune awaited her that no human foresight
could have power to arrest.
The health of her mother had been long declining, and her illness at
this time increased so far as to render medical assistance useless, and
baffled the skill of the ablest physicians. A trial so new, so
afflicting, and so grievous to her youthful mind, to lose one of her
honoured parents, and to be unexpectedly summoned to her parental home
to receive the last benediction of a beloved mother, and at this early
period of her life to be deprived of her kind care and protection, was
unfortunate in the extreme.
[["Baffled the skill of the ablest physicians" was a stock
phrase.]]
Every anxious solicitude and responsibility now rested alone upon a
widowed father, who mourned deeply their common bereavement, while he
felt conscious that all his fatherly care and caresses could never
supply to Alida all the necessary requisitions that she had unhappily
lost in so dear and interested a friend. When he observed her spirits
languish, and the tear frequently starting in her eye, and her former
sprightly countenance shaded with the deep tinges of melancholy, he saw
that the cheerfulness and gaiety of her natural disposition had received
a powerful check, which promised to be lasting.
[["Sprightly" is a favorite adjective in _Alonzo and Melissa_;
by the time of _Alida_ it was going out of fashion.]]
From this unhappy period she remained at home a long time with her
father. In kindred grief there was derived a congenial sympathy, and her
society contributed in some degree to allay his sorrow, as the deep
concern he felt in her welfare caused him sometimes to restrain the flow
of it in her presence. Self-exertion roused him in a measure from his
lethargy, and by thus assuming serenity, to become in reality something
more composed. Nevertheless, he would often witness the excess of
anguish which had taken place in the bosom of his child, and behold her
interesting face bathed in tears, and her youthful brow clouded with a
sadness that nothing seemingly could dissipate.
[_NY Weekly_: Mrs. Mordaunt:
to me they were inexpressibly soothing, from kindred grief there
was derived a congenial sympathy.
...
Their happiness, the education of my child, and self-exertion,
roused me from the lethargy of grief, and diffused a calm over my
mind I never hoped to have experienced.]
His situation now became more sequestered than ever; he roamed in
solitude, or pleased himself in ranging through silent glens in
loneliness. His thoughts were absorbed in the gloomy experience of the
misery of a painful separation from a dear and beloved object; he wept
for her whose mild and winning graces had power to soften and illuminate
the darkest shades of life, or alleviate the distressful scenes of
adversity.
[[This unidentified paragraph about Alida's widowed father reads
like the description of a young romantic hero.]]
His mind was wholly absorbed in those gloomy reflections that scarcely
admitted a ray of consolation, when the weekly newspaper arrived from
the neighbouring village; he took it up, hoping to find something to
amuse his thoughts; he opened it to read the news of the day; he ran his
eye hastily over it, and was about to lay it aside, "when the death list
arrested his attention by a display of broad black lines," and he, who
had not yet become reconciled to his present misfortune, was now about
to experience another equally severe.
[_A&M_ (Alonzo reads of Melissa's death):
He returned, and as he was entering the door he saw the weekly
newspaper of the town, which had been published that morning, and
which the carrier had just flung into the hall. The family had not
yet arisen. He took up the paper, carried it to his chamber, and
opened it to read the news of the day. He ran his eye hastily over
it, and was about to lay it aside, when the death list arrested his
attention, by a display of broad black lines.]
What could equal his bitterness, his surprise and grief, when he read
the disastrous news that his youngest son (who had lately gone on a
foreign expedition) had died of a fever in a distant land a few weeks
previous!
The paper fell from his palsied hand,--a sudden faintness came over
him,--he fell back almost senseless in his chair,--exhausted by excess
of grief, he remained a long time in a stupifying anguish.
[_A&M_:
The paper fell from his palsied hand--a sudden faintness came upon
him--the room grew dark--he staggered, and fell senseless upon the
floor.
...
Exhausted by excess of grief, he now lay in a stupifying
anguish....]
The tidings were so unlooked-for of the premature death of his
unfortunate son, who about this time was expected to arrive in New-York.
For him an only brother was inconsolable; and Alida, who had long been
accustomed to his kindness and caresses, was overcome with a dejection
that time alone could alleviate.
Her father observed her affliction in commisseration with his own,--he
was dejected and lonely, and the world appeared like a wilderness;
nothing could lessen his present evil, or soothe his afflicted mind.
The former peaceful serenity of his life was materially clouded; and in
his turn calamitous wo had overtaken him--the inalienable portion of
humanity,--and the varied and shifting scenery in the great drama of
time had brought with it disaster. His spirit was sunk in despondency,
and his sensations became utterly absorbed in melancholy; and all the
pious and philosophical reflections that he exerted himself to bring to
his remembrance, could scarcely afford even a transitory consolation in
this afflicting dispensation.
[_A&M_ (same scene, author's own voice):
mark well the varied and shifting scenery in the great drama
of time ... then say, if disappointment, distress, misery and
calamitous woe, are not the inalienable portion of the susceptible
bosom.]
[_A&M_ (later scene):
Alonzo was too deeply absorpt in melancholy reflection....]
From foreign lands the tidings borne,
With pain to wake a parent's anguish,
O, brother dear, beloved of all,
For thee a brother's heart must languish.
"That eye of brightness glows no more,
That beaming glance in night is clouded;"
On Maracaibo's distant shore,
"In death's dark cell untimely shrouded."
[Tighe, _Verses Written at the Commencement of Spring_, stz. 12, 13
(mid-line ellipses in original):
Haste, sweetest Babe, beloved of all!
Our cheerful hours without thee languish:
Ah! hush!.... he hears no more thy call!
Ah! hush!.... nor wake a parents anguish!]
That lip of roses glows no more;
That beaming glance in night is clouded;
Those bland endearments all are o'er,
In death's dark pall for ever shrouded.]
Alas! for him no kindred near
In hopes to minister relief;
He sees no tear of pity shed,
He sees no parents' anxious grief.
And as still evening came on,
In saddest solitude and tears,
His thoughts would turn on distant home,
On peaceful scenes and happier years.
He thought, too, what a favour'd clime
His gallant bark had left behind;
He thought how science there, sublime,
Beam'd her full radiance on the mind.
Though destined in a stranger's land,
Detain'd from all he held most dear,
Yet one kind hand, benevolent,
Was found the gloomy hours to cheer.
O, how consoling is the eye
Of him who comes to soothe our woes;
O, what relief those cares supply
Which a kind, watchful friend bestows.
When from this hand full well he found
How much can lenient kindness do
The generous Briton strives with care
His drooping spirits to renew.
Yes, stranger, thou wast kind, humane,
With quick assistance prompt to move;
To ease the lingering hours of pain,
In pity's kind endeavour strove.
When sickness o'er thy pallid cheek
Had stole the lustre from thine eye,
When near the doubtful crisis drew,
And life approach'd its latest sigh,--
He moved thee to his own retreat,
In his own mansion watch'd thee there;
Around thy couch he still remained,
Thy drooping heart with hopes to cheer.
[Tighe: _Verses Written in Sickness_, stanzas 3-12 (of 15).
Alas! for him whose youth has bowed
Beneath the oppressive hand of pain;
Whose claim to pity disallowed,
Bids him the unheeded groan restrain.
Alas! for him who droops like me,
Who mourns life's fueled vigour flown,
But finds no soothing sympathy,
No tender cares his loss atone.
For him no wakeful eye of love
Resists the slumbers health would shed,
With kind assistance prompt to move,
And gently prop the aching head:
With delicate attention paid
In hope to minister relief,
He sees no sacrifices made;
He sees no Mother's anxious grief!
But I, poor sufferer, doomed in vain
To woo the health which Heaven denied,
Though nights of horror, days of pain
The baffled opiate's force deride,
Yet well I know, and grateful feel,
How much can lenient kindness do,
From anguish half its darts to steal,
And faded Hope's sick smile renew.
That love which brightened gayer hours,
When light youth danced to pleasure's strain,
Exerts even yet unwearied powers,
The sweet support of nights of pain.
Oh! how consoling is the eye
Of the dear friend that shares our woes!
Oh! what relief those cares supply,
Which watchful, active love bestows!
And these are mine! -- Shall I then dare
To murmur at so mild a lot?
Nor dwell on comforts still my share
With thankful and contented thought?
Though destined to the couch of pain,
Though torn from pleasures once too dear,
Around that couch shall still remain
The love that every pain can cheer.
"Peace, wing'd in fairer worlds above,"
Has ta'en thy form away from this;
Has beckon'd thee to seats of glory,
To realms of everlasting bliss.
[John Bowring: Benevolence (hymn), stz. 2, lines 5-8:
Peace, winged in fairer worlds above,
Shall bend her down to brighten this,
When all man's labour shall be love
And all his thoughts--a brother's bliss.]
So rich in piety and worth,
Too soon, alas! lamented one,
Thou hast been call'd away from earth,
And heaven has claim'd thee for its own.
[James G. Brooks and Mary E. Brooks: To Cora (in _The Rivals of
Este, and Other Poems_, 1829), stz. 3, lines 1-4:
Cora! thou wast not formed for earth:
So bright thy angel beauty shone,
So rich in innocence and worth,
That heaven has claimed thee for its own.]