But ill he lived, [19] much evil saw, 145 With men to whom no better law Nor better life was known; Deliberately, and undeceived, Those wild men's vices he received, And gave them back his own. 150 His genius and his moral frame Were thus impaired, and he became The slave of low desires: A Man who without self-control Would seek what the degraded soul 155 Unworthily admires. And yet he with no feigned delight Had wooed the Maiden, day and night Had loved her, night and morn: What could he less than love a Maid 160 Whose heart with so much nature played So kind and so forlorn! Sometimes, most earnestly, he said, "O Ruth! I have been worse than dead; False thoughts, thoughts bold and vain, 165 Encompassed me on every side When I, in confidence and pride, Had crossed the Atlantic main. [20] "Before me shone a glorious world-- Fresh as a banner bright, unfurled 170 To music suddenly: [21] I looked upon those hills and plains, And seemed as if let loose from chains, To live at liberty. [22] "No more of this; for now, by thee, 175 Dear Ruth! more happily set free With nobler zeal I burn; [23] My soul from darkness is released, Like the whole sky when to the east [24] The morning doth return." 180 [25] Full soon that better mind was gone; [26] No hope, no wish remained, not one,-- They stirred him now no more; New objects did new pleasure give, And once again he wished to live 185 As lawless as before. Meanwhile, as thus with him it fared, They for the voyage were prepared, And went to the sea-shore, But, when they thither came, the Youth 190 Deserted his poor Bride, and Ruth Could never find him more. God help thee, Ruth!-Such pains she had, That she in half a year was mad, And in a prison housed; 195 And there, with many a doleful song Made of wild words, her cup of wrong She fearfully caroused. [27] Yet sometimes milder hours she knew, Nor wanted sun, nor rain, nor dew, 200 Nor pastimes of the May; --They all were with her in her cell; And a clear brook [28] with cheerful knell Did o'er the pebbles play. When Ruth three seasons thus had lain, 205 There came a respite to her pain; She from her prison fled; But of the Vagrant none took thought; And where it liked her best she sought Her shelter and her bread. 210 Among the fields she breathed again: The master-current of her brain Ran permanent and free; And, coming to the Banks of Tone, [I] There did she rest; and dwell alone [29] 215 Under the greenwood tree.