1.2: Mary Robinson Biography and Poems

Mary Robinson Biographical note

Born Mary Darby, third child of Nicholas Darby (c. 1720–1785), a sea captain and merchant in Bristol, and his wife, Hester Vanacott (c. 1725–1793), of North Petherton in Somerset, Mary Robinson was educated at a school run by the sisters of Hannah More and by a succession of private tutors. She enjoyed a comprehensive education. Mary's parents lost their fortune and separated when she was ten and Mary completed her education at boarding schools in London. She developed an early interest in the stage and David Garrick later became her tutor at Drury Lane. In 1773, aged 15, she married Thomas Robinson (fl. 1750–1802), the illegitimate son of a wealthy Welshman, who was however unable to support the couple's fashionable lifestyle. In 1775, after the birth of her daughter Maria Elizabeth, Mary followed her husband into a debters' prison. Here she supported the family with miscellaneous work, her Poems by Mrs. Robinson (1775) brought her to the attention of Georgiana Cavendish, duchess of Devonshire, who became her life-long patron. After her husband's release from prison, Mary embarked on a theatrical career. She was engaged by Sheridan and played a number of roles at Drury Lane where she became a celebrated actress in light comedy roles. She became widely known under the name of Perdita. Late in 1779, she caught the attention of the juvenile prince of Wales (the future George IV) who confessed his love and urged her to give up her theatrical career to become his mistress. However, the affair was short-lived and Mary was rewarded with an annuity for giving up any claims. Early in 1782, Mary became involved with Colonel Banastre Tarleton (1754–1833), an army officer and politician from an influential Liverpool family, who remained her partner for the next 15 years. The couple lived extravagantly, Tarleton was a war hero and friend of the prince of Wales, Perdita a tabloid celebrity and the subject of much gossip. After a stroke of bad health in 1783 which eventually left her partially paralysed, Mary took up writing again and became a prolific poet, playwright, translator, and novelist. She published two volumes of her collected poetry in 1791 and 1794 respectively. Her last book of poems, Lyrical Tales (1800), was influenced by Wordsworth and Coleridge's Lyrical Ballads (1798). Among her friends and correspondents during her last years were Eliza Fenwick, Mary Wollstonecraft, William Godwin, and S. T. Coleridge. She died in the care of her daughter at Englefield Green on 26 December 1800 and was buried in the parish churchyard at Old Windsor.

The Vision

As lately musing in a lonely shade,

For meditation and contentment made,

The murm'ring streams reecho'd thro' the trees,

And verdant poplars, fan'd the gentle breeze,

All dwelt serene within my tranquil breast,

And sweet retirement, lull'd my soul to rest:

Delightful fancy lent her potent aid,

And scenes of wonder, to my sense convey'd.

Transported to a verdant blooming green,

Where all was calm, and nature shone serene:

The daisy painted ground, perfum'd the air,

And sweet contentment, seem'd to banish care,

A group of lovely damsels caught my eye,

And each in youth and beauty strove to vie;

Yet two shone more resplendent than the rest,

One in a purple, airy, flowing vest;

Her temples bound with flow'rs of diff'rent hue,

The lilly white, the violet azure blue,

Her tender feet with glitt'ring sandals bound,

Trip't lightly o'er the flow'ry painted ground.

Her golden locks flow'd careless in the wind.

And her whole dress was loose and unconfin'd.

The other, clad in purity, and truth,

With all the blooming, radiant charms of youth,

White was her robe, bright auborn was her hair,

Meek her deportment, and serene her air;

Her looks outvied the pure and unsun'd snow,

And wreaths of laurel, bound her sacred brow,

Her friend was wisdom, who with heav'nly song,

With caution lead her mistress thro' the throng.

Her breath with ambient sweets perfum'd the ground,

And calm serenity shone all around;

Each strove by turns to sooth the giddy croud,

Courted the humble, and implor'd the proud.

The first was pleasure (soft alluring name,)

The other virtue, surest guide to fame.

Struck with astonishment I gaz'd around,

When suddenly I heard a heav'nly sound,

A sound more sweet than the soft breath of love,

Harmonious as the songsters of the grove;

Melodious as the pipe upon the plains,

The tuneful lyre, or Philomela's strains.

'Twas virtue's voice, the pure seraphic maid,

In tender numbers these soft accents said.

"Ah! follow me, fair nymph, to my pure cell,

"'Tis there content, and peace alone can dwell;

"'Tis there true happiness and joy you'll find,

"A homely fair, but a reception kind:

"Where innocence and love, delight to reign,

"Free from dissimulation, care, and pain.

"There peace resides, there honor keeps her court,

"There pity dwells, the muses there resort.

"Beware of vice, her pleasures soon will cloy,

"And keen repentance, follow guilty joy.

"Forsake the giddy, gay, unthinking croud,

"Forsake the covetous, the vain, and proud;

"By me be guided, I will lead the way,

"To blissful paths of everlasting day.

"In this precarious life i'll be thy friend,

"And celebrate thy name, e'en to time's end;

"Take my advice, 'tis I alone can prove,

"The heart-felt happiness of virtuous love:

"The real pleasures of an honest mind,

"In all my footsteps you will surely find.

Thus spoke the nymph, — to heav'n the music floats,

And angels echo back the tuneful notes.

Transported, and amaz'd, I trembling cry'd,

"In thee alone I trust to be my guide!"

The goddess smil'd, and kindly press'd my hand,

When I obedient to her wise command

Followed her footsteps, to that blissful seat,

Where peace, humility, and love do meet:

To that pure cell where every earthly joy,

Reigns uncontroul'd, unmixt, without a cloy.

The journey long, the fare was mean and coarse,

The road was rugged, and the task was worse;

Our gentle guides were Patience, Hope, and Truth,

(The best supporters of each virtuous youth)

Each friend, by turns, sooth'd my advent'rous heart,

And tales of truth, and honor did impart.

When, on a sudden, horrors spread around,

And echo'd thro' the grove an hollow sound;

The clouds grew black, all nature seem'd to fade,

And sicken o'er the solemn lonely glade;

Naught could be heard but silver falling floods,

And woe fraught murmurs reign'd throughout the woods.

Confusion struck my frame, when Patience cry'd,

"Fear not, fair nymph, in me alone confide;

"In a short time these dreadful storms shall cease,

"And I will crown your toil, with joy, and peace.

"E'er you arrive where bliss eternal reigns,

"You first must learn to scorn such trifling pains;

"The pure seraphic mind which virtue warms,

"Must bare serenely these tempestuous storms;

"The feeling heart must many crosses know,

"In virtue's cause, — where fortune proves a foe:

"Let not these trifles your soft breast alarm,

"Patience will guide you free from every harm."

Here ceas'd the virgin, the prophetic sound,

And gleams of heavenly light shone all around;

The clouds dispers'd, the storm and tempest ceas'd,

And every visionary care decreas'd.

The flowers recover'd their delightful hue,

And nature shone in all her bloom anew;

No scent more fragrant does the rose exhale,

Then those which fan'd the sweet ambrosial gale.

At a small distance stood the peaceful cell,

Where innocence and harmony do dwell;

No pompous grandeur there adorns the grove,

No spiery turrets rear their heads above;

No gilded columns, no gay temples rise,

There no luxurious dome invades the skies;

Alone for peace the humble cell was made,

And sweet contentment, reigns within the shade:

A purling stream in soft meanders glide,

The violet sweet, and daizy blooms beside:

Fair honor reigns supreme and void of care,

Each heavenly blessing does inhabit there.

With meek humility, with truth divine,

And ev'ry virtue bows before the shrine.

Love, the soft moulder of the pliant soul,

(Whose power our wishes and our minds controul;)

Within these sacred shades serenely mov'd,

By virtue guided, and by heav'n approv'd.

Enraptur'd I beheld those regions bright,

And scenes of wonder beam'd upon the sight;

Harmonious songsters I distinctly heard,

And soft musicians in the grove appear'd:

While thus I stood intent to see and hear,

A damsel's voice address'd my pensive ear.

"Like you a stranger to distress and woe,

"Possess'd of all the gifts the gods bestow,

"Of all the real blessings heaven can give,

"Still my fond soul for other joys did grieve.

"Once on a time by giddy fancy taught,

"For idle pleasures earnestly I sought;

"No well-taught council could my feet restrain,

"But pleasures lur'd me to the flow'ry plain;

"That sure destruction to the youthful mind,

"To her my frail, my willing heart inclin'd.

"Long time I revel'd in luxurious joys,

"Which ev'ry gen'rous sentiment destroys.

"But ah! fair nymph, each pleasure quickly dies,

"Where blacken'd vice, fair virtue's place supplies.

"Such idle joys last but a fleeting day,

"Where vice triumphant reigns with potent sway;

"Short was the time these scenes my soul possess'd,

"But endless are the pangs within my breast.

"No time the stings of conscience can subdue,

"Where'er I fly fresh grief my steps pursue;

"Conscious of past offence, my erring breast,

"Is torn with sad remorse, and rob'd of rest,

"I feel, I feel, the heaving sigh renew'd,

"And sad rememb'rance on my soul intrude;

"Still must my mind with heart felt grief abound,

"Till virtue's hand shall heal reflection's wound.

"Too late my blinded eyes perceiv'd the road,

"Which lead to this celestial, bless'd abode;

"Happy are you, whose youthful breast aspires,

"With genial warmth, to burn with purer fires.

"Who in the tender, early days of youth,

"Trod the unsullied paths of sacred truth.

"Then hail, fair nymph, hail sweet humility,

"Each vot'ry of our shade, shall honor thee.

"Enjoy, henceforth, each blessing of the bless'd,

"May all thy future days be crown'd with rest. "

"Farewell, "she cry'd, — then join'd the happy throng,

Who to my list'ning ear address'd their song.

"Welcome, welcome, to our cell,

"Here content, and peace do dwell;

"Every joy to charm the heart,

"All that wisdom can impart,

"All that can the bosom fire,

"All that virtue can desire;

"Every blessing from above,

"Ease and plenty, joy and love;

"Meek humility and rest,

"All the transports of the bless'd;

"Join with us in sprightly song,

"Dance among the happy throng;

"Tune the cymbal, and the lyre,

"Virtue does our souls inspire;

"Prudence, is our matron wise,

"Ev'ry folly we despise;

"Here the graces keep their court,

"Here the muses all resort;

"Welcome to this happy cell,

"Here content and peace doth dwell.

Here ceas'd the tender, soft, alluring throng,

Their artless, sweet, prophetic, warmbling song;

And I awoke, alas! too soon to find,

'Twas only fancy that deceiv'd my mind;

But what a change from scenes of tranquil joy,

To momentary pleasures born to cloy.

Written on the Outside of an Hermitage

Stranger beware who'ere thou art,

How ye profane this shade,

For know beneath this humble roof,

No idle cares invade.

The bright inhabitants within,

Are grace, and truth divine,

And sweet contentment dwells secure,

Beneath this sacred shrine.

If thou in ought hast been forsworn,

These hallow'd paths forbear,

For know the sure reward you'll meet,

Is grief and pining care,

If envy reigns within thy breast,

Attempt not here to dwell,

For virtue, piety, and peace,

Inhabit this sweet cell.

If malice taints thy secret thoughts,

Or hatred guides thy heart,

With caution tread these hallow'd shades,

And e'er too late depart.

If high ambition sways thy mind,

Ah! search no longer here,

For naught but calm humility,

Within these walls appear.

Or if thou art to falsehood prone,

Or dare with impious hand,

To deal out mischief or profane,

High heaven's supreme command;

Far from this lowly roof retreat,

Or pain will be thy share,

With heart-felt woe and wretched pangs,

Repentance, and despair.

For know that grief, and keen remorse,

Await on guilty deeds,

But for the gen'rous, just, and good,

A sure reward succeeds.

Vice, vanity, and all her train,

Are strangers to this place,

Nor dares black artful calumny,

Shew her destructive face.

But wisdom, happiness, and joy,

With charity divine,

And peace, content, delight, and ease,

Dwell safe within this shrine.

No jealous cares invade, or break,

The calm repose within,

No voice profane is heard to breath,

An accent fraught with sin,

But every joy on earth combin'd,

Serenely deigns to dwell,

Uninterrupted, free from care,

Within this rustic cell.

Such as delight in virt'ous deeds,

Are welcome guests and free,

To reign henceforth without restraint,

In our society.

The conscience void of black deceit,

And all her hateful crew,

Will find no cares in solitude,

But joys for ever new.

The rich (if just) are welcome here,

The lowly and the poor,

To such with glad and willing hand,

We op'e the friendly door.

But those who dare approach this shrine,

Whose breast by vice is sway'd,

Whose mind by avarice and pride,

To folly is betray'd.

Whose soul ne'er own'd soft pity's claim,

Whose heart ne'er learnt to glow,

With genial warmth in virtue's cause,

Or felt another's woe.

Whose only joy in this short life —

Is pomp and vain desires,

Who never knew the pure delight,

A rural life inspires.

Will find this moss-grown rustic cell,

For such was ne'er design'd,

Nor can they gain admittance here,

Tho' e'er so much inclin'd.

Then ah! forbear whoe'er thou art,

How ye profane this shade,

For know beneath this simple roof,

No idle cares invade.