For example, take Bayly as a moralist. His ideas are
out of the centre. This is about his standard:
"CRUELTY.
"'Break not the thread the spider
Is labouring to weave.'
I said, nor as I eyed her
Could dream she would deceive.
"Her brow was pure and candid,
Her tender eyes above;
And I, if ever man did,
Fell hopelessly in love.
"For who could deem that cruel
So fair a face might be?
That eyes so like a jewel
Were only paste for me?
"I wove my thread, aspiring
Within her heart to climb;
I wove with zeal untiring
For ever such a time!
"But, ah! that thread was broken
All by her fingers fair,
The vows and prayers I've spoken
Are vanished into air!"
Did Bayly write that ditty or did I? Upon my word, I can hardly
tell. I am being hypnotised by Bayly. I lisp in numbers, and the
numbers come like mad. I can hardly ask for a light without
abounding in his artless vein. Easy, easy it seems; and yet it was
Bayly after all, not you nor I, who wrote the classic -
"I'll hang my harp on a willow tree,
And I'll go to the war again,
For a peaceful home has no charm for me,
A battlefield no pain;
The lady I love will soon be a bride,
With a diadem on her brow.
Ah, why did she flatter my boyish pride?
She is going to leave me now!"
It is like listening, in the sad yellow evening, to the strains of a
barrel organ, faint and sweet, and far away.
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