The Purgatory of St. Patrick | Page 9

hidden,
Well taken care of and attended.

For a lady there, a nun,
Was my cousin, which connection
Gave to
her the special burden
Of this care. My heart already
Being a
basilisk which turned
All the honey into venom,
Passing swiftly
from mere liking
To desire -- that monster ever
Feeding on the
impossible --
Living fire that with intensest
Fury burns when most
opposed --
Flame the wind revives and strengthens,
False, deceitful,
treacherous foe
Which doth murder its possessor --
In a word,
desire in him,
Who nor God nor law respecteth,
Of the horrible, of
the shocking,
Thinks but only to attempt it.--
Yes, I dared . . . . But
here disturbed,
When, my lord, I this remember,
Mute the voice in
horror fails,

Sad the accent faints and trembles,
And as 'mid the
night's dark shadows,
The hair stands on end through terror;
Thus
confused, so full of doubt,
Sad remembrance so o'erwhelms me,

That the thing I dared to do
I scarce dare in words to tell thee.
For,
in fine, my crime is such,
So to be abhorred, detested,
So profane,
so sacrilegious
(Strange upon thee so to press it),
That for having
such committed
I at times feel some repentance.
Well, in fine, I
dared one night,
When deep silence had erected
Sepulchres of
fleeting sleep
For men's overwearied senses,
When a dark and
cloudy veil
Heaven had o'er its face extended --
Mourning which
the wind assumed
For the sun whose life had ended --
In whose
obsequies the night-birds
Swan-notes sang instead of verses,
And

when back from waves of sapphire,
Where their beauty was reflected,

The clear stars a second time
Trembling lights to heaven
presented:--
Well, on such a night, by climbing
O'er the garden wall,
I entered
With the assistance of two friends
(For when such things
are attempted
An associate never fails),
And in horror and in terror,

Seeking in the dark my death,
Reached at length the cell (I tremble

To remember it) in which
Was my cousin, whom respectful

Silence bids me not to name,
Though all self-respect has left me.

Frightened at such nameless horror,
On the hard floor she fell
senseless,
When she passed into my arms,
And ere she regained her
senses,
She already was outside
Her asylum, in a desert,
When if
heaven possessed the power,
It had not the will to help her.
Women,
when they are persuaded
That the wildest of excesses
Are the
effects of love, forgive them
Easily; and, therefore, pleasure

Following tears, some consolation
In her miseries was effected;

Though, in fact, they were so great,
That united in one person
She
saw violence, violation,
Incest, nay, adultery even,
Against God
who was her spouse,
And a sacrilege most dreadful.
Finally we left
that place,
Being carried to Valencia
By two steeds that well might
claim
From the winds to be descended:
Feigning that she was my
wife,
But with little peace we dwelt there;
For I quickly having
squandered
Whatsoever little treasure

I brought with me, without
friends,
p 260
Without any hope of help there,
In my dire distress
appealed
To the beauty still so perfect
Of my poor pretended wife:

If for aught I did I ever
Could feel shame, this act alone
Would
most surely overwhelm me;
Since it is the lowest baseness
That the
vilest breast descends to,
To put up to sale one's honour,
And to
trade in love's caresses.
Scarce with shameless front had I
This base
plan to her suggested,
When concealing her design
She gave
seeming acquiescence;
But I scarce had turned my back,
Hardly had
I left her presence,
When she, flying from me, found
Grace a
convent's walls to enter.
There, a holy monk advising,
She a saving
port and shelter
Found against the world's wild storms,
And there

died, her sin, her penance,
Giving all a great example;
May God
rest her soul in heaven!--
Seeing that the narrow world
Now took
note of my offences,
And that soon the very land
Might reject me, I
determined
To re-seek my native country;
For at least I there
expected
To be safer from my foes,
In a place so long my centre

And my home. The way I took
And to Ireland came, which welcomed

Me at first as would a mother,
But a step-mother resembled

Before long, for seeking a passage
Where a harbour lay protected

By a mole, I found that corsairs
Lay concealed within the shelter
Of
a little creek which his
Out of view their well-armed vessel.
And of
these, their captain, Philip,
Took me prisoner, after efforts
Made in
my defence so brave,
That in deference to the mettle
I displayed,
my life he spared.
What ensured you know already,
How the wind
in sudden anger
Rising into raging tempest,
Now chastised us in its
pride,
Now our lives more cruelly threatened,
Making in the seas
and mountains
Such wild ruin and resemblance,
That to mock the
mountain's pride
Waves still mightier forms presented,
Which with
catapults of crystal
Made the cliffs' foundations tremble,
So that
neighbouring cities fell,
And the sea, in scornful temper,
Gathering
up from its abysses
The munition it collecteth,
Fired upon the land
its pearls
In their shells, wherein engendered

By the swift breath of
the morning
In its dew, they shine resplendent
Tears of ice and fire;
in fine,
Not in pictures so imperfect
All our time to waste, the crew

Went to sup in the infernal
Halls themselves; I, too, a guest

Would have equally attended
With them, if this Patrick, here,

Whom I know not why I reverence,
Looking with respect and fear

On his beauteous countenance ever,
Had not drawn me from the sea,

Where, exhausted, sinking, helpless,
I drank death in