Simon.  Wilt please you hear some vices of this brother,
              This all-accomplish’d John?

Margaret.  There is no need—­I grant him all you say and more,
              Vain, ambitious, large of purpose,
              Fantastic, fiery, swift and confident,
              A wayward child of vanity and spleen,
              A hair-brain’d mad-cap, dreamer of gold dreams,
              A daily feaster on high self-conceit,
              With many glorious faults beside,
              Weak minds mistake for virtues.

Simon.  Add to these,
              That having gain’d a virtuous maiden’s love,
              One fairly priz’d at twenty times his worth,
              He let her wander houseless from his door
              To seek new friends and find elsewhere a home.

Sir Walter.  Fie upon’t—­
              All men are false, I think, etc.

And here we arrive at the “Dying Lover,” which was printed anonymously in the London Magazine for January, 1822.  But before passing from the long passage transcribed above I am bound to say that Lamb drew his pen through it all, marking some bits “bad” and others “very bad.”  I venture to think that in this he did himself some injustice.

To Sir Walter’s sweeping indictment Margaret replies as follows.  I keep to the text of the MS., noting some trifling changes made for the London Magazine [see page 85]:—­

Margaret.  All are not false.  I knew a youth who died
              For grief, because his Love proved so,
              And married to[32] another. 
              I saw him on the wedding day,
              For he was present in the church that day,
              And in his best apparel too[33],
              As one that came to grace the ceremony. 
              I mark’d him when the ring was given,
              His countenance never changed;
              And when the priest pronounced the marriage blessing,
              He put a silent prayer up for the bride,
              [For they stood near who saw his lips move.][34]
              He came invited to the marriage-feast
              With the bride’s friends,
              And was the merriest of them all that day;
              But they, who knew him best, call’d it feign’d mirth;
              And others said,
              He wore a smile like death’s[35] upon his face. 
              His presence dash’d all the beholders’ mirth,
              And he went away in tears.

Simon.  What followed then?

Margaret.  Oh! then
              He did not as neglected suitors use
              Affect a life of solitude in shades,
              But lived,
              In free discourse and sweet society,
              Among his friends who knew his gentle nature best.