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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395890" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tale IV</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">PROCRASTINATION.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love will expire--the gay, the happy dream<br>Will turn to scorn, indiff'rence, or esteem:<br>Some favour'd pairs, in this exchange, are blest,<br>Nor sigh for raptures in a state of rest;<br>Others, ill match'd, with minds unpair'd, repent<br>At once the deed, and know no more content;<br>From joy to anguish they, in haste, decline,<br>And, with their fondness, their esteem resign;<br>More luckless still their fate, who are the prey<br>Of long-protracted hope and dull delay:<br>'Mid plans of bliss the heavy hours pass on,<br>Till love is withered, and till joy is gone.<br>This gentle flame two youthful hearts possess'd,<br>The sweet disturber of unenvied rest;<br>The prudent Dinah was the maid beloved,<br>And the kind Rupert was the swain approved:<br>A wealthy Aunt her gentle niece sustain'd,<br>He, with a father, at his desk remain'd;<br>The youthful couple, to their vows sincere,<br>Thus loved expectant; year succeeding year,<br>With pleasant views and hopes, but not a prospect </div><div style="margin:10px 0">near.<br>Rupert some comfort in his station saw,<br>But the poor virgin lived in dread and awe;<br>Upon her anxious looks the widow smiled,<br>And bade her wait, 'for she was yet a child.'<br>She for her neighbour had a due respect,<br>Nor would his son encourage or reject;<br>And thus the pair, with expectation vain,<br>Beheld the seasons change and change again;<br>Meantime the nymph her tender tales perused,<br>Where cruel aunts impatient girls refused:<br>While hers, though teasing, boasted to be kind,<br>And she, resenting, to be all resign'd.<br>The dame was sick, and when the youth applied<br>For her consent, she groan'd, and cough'd, and </div><div style="margin:10px 0">cried,<br>Talk'd of departing, and again her breath<br>Drew hard, and cough'd, and talk'd again of death:<br>'Here may you live, my Dinah! here the boy<br>And you together my estate enjoy:'<br>Thus to the lovers was her mind expressed,<br>Till they forbore to urge the fond request.<br>Servant, and nurse, and comforter, and friend,<br>Dinah had still some duty to attend;<br>But yet their walk, when Rupert's evening call<br>Obtain'd an hour, made sweet amends for all;<br>So long they now each other's thoughts had known,<br>That nothing seem'd exclusively their own:<br>But with the common wish, the mutual fear,<br>They now had travelled to their thirtieth year.<br>At length a prospect open'd--but alas!<br>Long time must yet, before the union, pass.<br>Rupert was call'd, in other clime, t'increase<br>Another's wealth, and toil for future peace.<br>Loth were the lovers; but the aunt declared<br>'Twas fortune's call, and they must be prepar'd:<br>'You now are young, and for this brief delay,<br>And Dinah's care, what I bequeath will pay;<br>All will be yours; nay, love, suppress that sigh;<br>The kind must suffer, and the best must die:'<br>Then came the cough, and strong the signs it gave<br>Of holding long contention with the grave.<br>The lovers parted with a gloomy view,<br>And little comfort, but that both were true;<br>He for uncertain duties doom'd to steer,<br>While hers remain'd too certain and severe.<br>Letters arrived, and Rupert fairly told<br>'His cares were many, and his hopes were cold:<br>The view more clouded, that was never fair,<br>And love alone preserved him from despair;'<br>In other letters brighter hopes he drew,<br>'His friends were kind, and he believed them true.'<br>When the sage widow Dinah's grief descried,<br>She wonder'd much why one so happy sigh'd:<br>Then bade her see how her poor aunt sustain'd<br>The ills of life, nor murmur'd nor complain'd.<br>To vary pleasures, from the lady's chest<br>Were drawn the pearly string and tabby vest;<br>Beads, jewels, laces, all their value shown,<br>With the kind notice--'They will be your own.'<br>This hope, these comforts, cherish'd day by day,<br>To Dinah's bosom made a gradual way;<br>Till love of treasure had as large a part,<br>As love of Rupert, in the virgin's heart.<br>Whether it be that tender passions fail,<br>From their own nature, while the strong prevail;<br>Or whether av'rice, like the poison-tree,<br>Kills all beside it, and alone will be;<br>Whatever cause prevail'd, the pleasure grew<br>In Dinah's soul,--she loved the hoards to view;<br>With lively joy those comforts she survey'd,<br>And love grew languid in the careful maid.<br>Now the grave niece partook the widow's cares,<br>Look'd to the great, and ruled the small affairs;<br>Saw clean'd the plate, arranged the china-show,<br>And felt her passion for a shilling grow:<br>Th' indulgent aunt increased the maid's delight,<br>By placing tokens of her wealth in sight;<br>She loved the value of her bonds to tell,<br>And spake of stocks, and how they rose and fell.<br>This passion grew, and gain'd at length such </div><div style="margin:10px 0">sway,<br>That other passions shrank to make it way;<br>Romantic notions now the heart forsook,<br>She read but seldom, and she changed her book;<br>And for the verses she was wont to send,<br>Short was her prose, and she was Rupert's friend.<br>Seldom she wrote, and then the widow's cough,<br>And constant call, excused her breaking off;<br>Who now oppressed, no longer took the air,<br>But sat and dozed upon an easy chair.<br>The cautious doctor saw the case was clear,<br>But judged it best to have companions near;<br>They came, they reason'd, they prescribed,--at </div><div style="margin:10px 0">last,<br>Like honest men, they said their hopes were past;<br>Then came a priest--'tis comfort to reflect<br>When all is over, there was no neglect:<br>And all was over.--By her husband's bones,<br>The widow rests beneath the sculptured stones,<br>That yet record their fondness and their fame,<br>While all they left the virgin's care became;<br>Stock, bonds, and buildings; it disturb'd her rest,<br>To think what load of troubles she possessed:<br>Yet, if a trouble, she resolved to take<br>Th' important duty for the donor's sake;<br>She too was heiress to the widow's taste,<br>Her love of hoarding, and her dread of waste.<br>Sometimes the past would on her mind intrude,<br>And then a conflict full of care ensued;<br>The thoughts of Rupert on her mind would press,<br>His worth she knew, but doubted his success:<br>Of old she saw him heedless; what the boy<br>Forebore to save, the man would not enjoy;<br>Oft had he lost the chance that care would seize,<br>Willing to live, but more to live at ease:<br>Yet could she not a broken vow defend,<br>And Heav'n, perhaps, might yet enrich her friend.<br>Month after month was pass'd, and all were spent<br>In quiet comfort, and in rich content;<br>Miseries there were, and woes the world around,<br>But these had not her pleasant dwelling found;<br>She knew that mothers grieved, and widows wept,<br>And she was sorry, said her prayers, and slept:<br>Thus passed the seasons, and to Dinah's board<br>Gave what the seasons to the rich afford;<br>For she indulged, nor was her heart so small,<br>That one strong passion should engross it all.<br>A love of splendour now with av'rice strove,<br>And oft appeared to be the stronger love:<br>A secret pleasure fill'd the Widow's breast,<br>When she reflected on the hoards possess'd;<br>But livelier joy inspired th' ambitious Maid,<br>When she the purchase of those hoards display'd:<br>In small but splendid room she loved to see<br>That all was placed in view and harmony.<br>There, as with eager glance she look'd around,<br>She much delight in every object found.<br>While books devout were near her--to destroy,<br>Should it arise, an overflow of joy.<br>Within that fair apartment guests might see<br>The comforts cull'd for wealth by vanity:<br>Around the room an Indian paper blazed,<br>With lively tint and figures boldly raised;<br>Silky and soft upon the floor below,<br>Th' elastic carpet rose with crimson glow;<br>All things around implied both cost and care,<br>What met the eye was elegant or rare:<br>Some curious trifles round the room were laid,<br>By hope presented to the wealthy Maid;<br>Within a costly case of varnish'd wood,<br>In level rows, her polish'd volumes stood;<br>Shown as a favour to a chosen few,<br>To prove what beauty for a book could do:<br>A silver urn with curious work was fraught;<br>A silver lamp from Grecian pattern wrought:<br>Above her head, all gorgeous to behold,<br>A time-piece stood on feet of burnish'd gold;<br>A stag's-head crest adorn'd the pictured case,<br>Through the pure crystal shone the enamel'd face;<br>And while on brilliants moved the hands of steel,<br>It click'd from pray'r to pray'r, from meal to </div><div style="margin:10px 0">meal.<br>Here as the lady sat, a friendly pair<br>Stept in t'admire the view, and took their chair:<br>They then related how the young and gay<br>Were thoughtless wandering in the broad highway:<br>How tender damsels sail'd in tilted boats,<br>And laugh'd with wicked men in scarlet coats;<br>And how we live in such degen'rate times,<br>That men conceal their wants and show their crimes;<br>While vicious deeds are screen'd by fashion's name,<br>And what was once our pride is now our shame.<br>Dinah was musing, as her friends discoursed,<br>When these last words a sudden entrance forced<br>Upon her mind, and what was once her pride<br>And now her shame, some painful views supplied;<br>Thoughts of the past within her bosom press'd,<br>And there a change was felt, and was confess'd:<br>While thus the Virgin strove with secret pain,<br>Her mind was wandering o'er the troubled main;<br>Still she was silent, nothing seem'd to see,<br>But sat and sigh'd in pensive reverie.<br>The friends prepared new subjects to begin,<br>When tall Susannah, maiden starch, stalk'd in;<br>Not in her ancient mode, sedate and slow,<br>As when she came, the mind she knew, to know;<br>Nor as, when list'ning half an hour before,<br>She twice or thrice tapp'd gently at the door;<br>But all decorum cast in wrath aside,<br>'I think the devil's in the man!' she cried;<br>'A huge tall sailor, with his tawny cheek<br>And pitted face, will with my lady speak;<br>He grinn'd an ugly smile, and said he knew,<br>Please you, my lady, 't would be joy to you:<br>What must I answer?'--Trembling and distress'd<br>Sank the pale Dinah by her fears oppress'd;<br>When thus alarm'd and brooking no delay,<br>Swift to her room the stranger made his way.<br>'Revive, my love!' said he, 'I've done thee </div><div style="margin:10px 0">harm;<br>Give me thy pardon,' and he look'd alarm:<br>Meantime the prudent Dinah had contrived<br>Her soul to question, and she then revived.<br>'See! my good friend,' and then she raised her </div><div style="margin:10px 0">head,<br>'The bloom of life, the strength of youth is fled;<br>Living we die; to us the world is dead;<br>We parted bless'd with health, and I am now<br>Age-struck and feeble--so I find art thou;<br>Thine eye is sunken, furrow'd is thy face,<br>And downward look'st thou--so we run our race;<br>And happier they whose race is nearly run,<br>Their troubles over, and their duties done.'<br>'True, lady, true--we are not girl and boy,<br>But time has left us something to enjoy.'<br>'What! hast thou learn'd my fortune?--yes, I live<br>To feel how poor the comforts wealth can give:<br>Thou too perhaps art wealthy; but our fate<br>Still mocks our wishes, wealth is come too late.'<br>'To me nor late nor early; I am come<br>Poor as I left thee to my native home:<br>Nor yet,' said Rupert, 'will I grieve; 'tis mine<br>To share thy comforts, and the glory thine:<br>For thou wilt gladly take that generous part<br>That both exalts and gratifies the heart;<br>While mine rejoices'--'Heavens!' return'd the maid,<br>'This talk to one so wither'd and decay'd?<br>No! all my care is now to fit my mind<br>For other spousal, and to die resigned:<br>As friend and neighbour, I shall hope to see<br>These noble views, this pious love in thee;<br>That we together may the change await,<br>Guides and spectators in each other's fate;<br>When fellow pilgrims, we shall daily crave<br>The mutual prayer that arms us for the grave.'<br>Half angry, half in doubt, the lover gazed<br>On the meek maiden, by her speech amazed;<br>'Dinah,' said he, 'dost thou respect thy vows?<br>What spousal mean'st thou?--thou art Rupert's </div><div style="margin:10px 0">spouse;<br>That chance is mine to take, and thine to give:<br>But, trifling this, if we together live:<br>Can I believe, that, after all the past,<br>Our vows, our loves, thou wilt be false at last?<br>Something thou hast--I know not what--in view;<br>I find thee pious--let me find thee true.'<br>'Ah! cruel this; but do, my friend, depart;<br>And to its feelings leave my wounded heart.'<br>'Nay, speak at once; and Dinah, let me know,<br>Mean'st thou to take me, now I'm wreck'd, in tow?<br>Be fair; nor longer keep me in the dark;<br>Am I forsaken for a trimmer spark?<br>Heaven's spouse thou art not; nor can I believe<br>That God accepts her who will man deceive:<br>True I am shatter'd, I have service seen,<br>And service done, and have in trouble been;<br>My cheek (it shames me not) has lost its red,<br>And the brown buff is o'er my features spread:<br>Perchance my speech is rude; for I among<br>Th' untamed have been, in temper and in tongue;<br>Have been trepann'd, have lived in toil and care,<br>And wrought for wealth I was not doom'd to share;<br>It touch'd me deeply, for I felt a pride<br>In gaining riches for my destin'd bride:<br>Speak then my fate; for these my sorrows past,<br>Time lost, youth fled, hope wearied, and at last<br>This doubt of thee--a childish thing to tell,<br>But certain truth--my very throat they swell:<br>They stop the breath, and but for shame could I<br>Give way to weakness, and with passion cry;<br>These are unmanly struggles, but I feel<br>This hour must end them, and perhaps will heal.'<br>Here Dinah sigh'd, as if afraid to speak -<br>And then repeated--'They were frail and weak:<br>His soul she lov'd, and hoped he had the grace<br>To fix his thoughts upon a better place.'<br>She ceased;--with steady glance, as if to see<br>The very root of this hypocrisy, -<br>He her small fingers moulded in his hard<br>And bronzed broad hand; then told her his regard,<br>His best respect were gone, but love had still<br>Hold in his heart, and govern'd yet the will -<br>Or he would curse her: --saying this, he threw<br>The hand in scorn away, and bade adieu<br>To every lingering hope, with every care in view.<br>Proud and indignant, suffering, sick, and poor,<br>He grieved unseen: and spoke of love no more -<br>Till all he felt in indignation died,<br>As hers had sunk in avarice and pride.<br>In health declining, as in mind distressed,<br>To some in power his troubles he confess'd,<br>And shares a parish-gift; at prayers he sees<br>The pious Dinah dropp'd upon her knees;<br>Thence as she walks the street with stately air<br>As chance directs, oft meet the parted pair;<br>When he, with thickset coat of badgeman's blue,<br>Moves near her shaded silk of changeful hue;<br>When his thin locks of gray approach her braid,<br>A costly purchase made in Beauty's aid;<br>When his frank air, and his unstudied pace,<br>Are seen with her soft manner, air, and grace;<br>And his plain artless look with her sharp meaning </div><div style="margin:10px 0">face;<br>It might some wonder in a stranger move,<br>How these together could have talk'd of love.<br>Behold them now!--see there a tradesman stands,<br>And humbly hearkens to some fresh commands;<br>He moves to speak, she interrupts him--'Stay,'<br>Her air expresses,--'Hark to what I say!'<br>Ten paces off, poor Rupert on a seat<br>Has taken refuge from the noon-day heat,<br>His eyes on her intent, as if to find<br>What were the movements of that subtle mind:<br>How still!--how earnest is he!--it appears<br>His thoughts are wand'ring through his earlier </div><div style="margin:10px 0">years;<br>Through years of fruitless labour, to the day<br>When all his earthly prospects died away:<br>'Had I,' he thinks, 'been wealthier of the two,<br>Would she have found me so unkind, untrue?<br>Or knows not man when poor, what man when rich will </div><div style="margin:10px 0">do?<br>Yes, yes! I feel that I had faithful proved,<br>And should have soothed and raised her, bless'd and </div><div style="margin:10px 0">loved.'<br>But Dinah moves--she had observed before<br>The pensive Rupert at an humble door:<br>Some thoughts of pity raised by his distress,<br>Some feeling touch of ancient tenderness;<br>Religion, duty urged the maid to speak,<br>In terms of kindness to a man so weak:<br>But pride forbade, and to return would prove<br>She felt the shame of his neglected love;<br>Nor wrapp'd in silence could she pass, afraid<br>Each eye should see her, and each heart upbraid;<br>One way remain'd--the way the Levite took,<br>Who without mercy could on misery look;<br>(A way perceiv'd by craft, approved by pride),<br>She cross'd and pass'd him on the other side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Crabbe">George Crabbe</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395890" data-title="Tale IV de George Crabbe" data-description="PROCRASTINATION.

Love will expire--the gay, the happy dream
Will turn to scorn, indiff'rence, or esteem:
Some favour'd pairs, in this exchange, are blest,
Nor sigh for raptures in a state of rest;
Others, ill match'd, with minds unpair'd, repent
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