Poems | Page 8

hapless youth! I do forgive him all;?E'en now remorse must rankle in his breast,?And no cool comfort cometh at his call,?To set the tumult of his soul at rest:?God's pity on his human weakness fall!
3.
Nay, falter not, good friend; thy news is sweet;?Thanks, thanks! Ay, sweet as is the welcome wind?That wafts the calm-lock'd seaman, smooth and fleet,?O'er tropic seas unto his sigh'd-for Ind;?Ay! Death will bring rest to my weary feet!
'Tis strange--but now the word falls on mine ear?Soft as the singing of a little child,?Heaven's music on light pinions floateth near,?Through all the strife of Earth, so harsh and wild;?Time's stream is rippling on its marges clear.
The end is nigh--the end of grief and pain,?And Life's broad gates are opening to my soul;?O'er my weak heart no more shall sorrow reign,?Enfranchised soon 'twill spurn the harsh control,?And never feel its empiry again.
No more, Filippo, shall my hapless life?Stand betwixt thee and pleasure,--Duty's knot?Shall soon be sever'd by the headsman's knife;?And upon memory one crimson blot?Shall be the record of a spotless wife.
'Tis well! I would not wander through a haunted mind,?Ghost-like and fearful in the evening hours;?Would God that I could leave my peace behind,?To bless thee when the night of sorrow lours,?And thou art rifted by Affliction's wind!
Shouldst thou awake when I have pass'd away,?Shouldst thou see clear the error and the wrong,?And Truth break on thee with its dazzling ray,?As sure it will, for Innocence is strong,?Then may my prayers thine every pang allay!
For thee, poor youth,--go not unto the grave?With a red lie upon thy trembling tongue--?Not for myself, but for thy soul I crave,--?Death's champions should have sinews tightly strung,?And thou wilt falter where I shall be brave.
In that dim world there flows no cooling stream,?No Lethe for the guilty and the fever'd,?There is no answer to their parching scream,?From hope and mercy they are ever sever'd,?There is no waking from their spectral dream.
Then pause or e'er thou stampest on thy soul?Eternally such misery as thine,?And writest on God's conscience-blasting scroll,?A wife's dishonour, and a tarnish'd line,?To weigh for thee thine everlasting dole...
Friend, let thine arm be strong, good sooth there's need,?Thou cuttest through a weary depth of woe!--?Well! that will pass, and soon rest come indeed,--?Ay, ay! the robe's white now ... will't long be so?...?Yet better far the crimson tide should flow,?Than the heart inly with its anguish bleed.
SERENADE.
The day is fading from the sky,?And softly shines the Star of Even,?As watching with a lover's eye?The rest of Earth the peace of Heaven;?The dew is rising cool and sweet,?And, zephyr-rock'd, the flowers are closing,?The Night steals on with noiseless feet,?Oh! gentle be my love's reposing.
The streamlet, as it flows along,?Sounds like a voice 'mid childhood's slumbers;?And from the brake the Queen of Song?Pours forth her softest, clearest numbers;?And ever through the stirless leaves?The summer moon is brightly streaming,?Light fancies on the sward it weaves,--?As radiant be my lady's dreaming.
The silent hours move swiftly on,?With many a blessed vision laden,?That all the night has softly shone?Upon the hearts of youth and maiden;?And now, in golden splendors drest,?The new-born day is gladly breaking,?Oh! blissful be my lady's rest,?And sweet as Morn be her awaking.
THE EAGLE.
The winds sweep by him on his mountain throne,?Hurling the clouds together at his feet,?Till Earth is hidden, lost, and swallow'd up?As in the flood of waters,--and he sits?Eyeing the boundless firmament above,?Proud and unruffled, till his heart exclaims,--?"I am a god, Heaven is my home,--the Earth?Serveth me but for footstool."
The strong winds?Sweep on, and wide his pinions spreadeth he,--?"Bear me afar!" and on the mighty storm?He rides triumphant, spurning the dim Earth--?Whither, O whither goest thou? What star?Shall raise its mountains for thee? What far orb?Echo the fierceness of thy battle-cry?
What dost thou when the thunder is unloosed??"I sit amongst the crags, and feel the Earth?Tremble beneath me, whilst my heart is firm.?I gaze upon the lightning, and my lid?Quivers not. Is their aught 'neath which my gaze?Quaileth, or waxeth faint--I read the sun?Undazzled where the stars grow dim and pale.
"Men gather them to battle--host meets host--?And I am borne aloft to marshal them,--?I, the great King of Battles, that go forth?Conquering and to conquer. So do men?Worship me. Oh! the mighty crash ascends,--?The shoutings, and the glory, and the woe,?One great full chaunt of homage to mine ears,--?And there I wait the while the sacrifice?Is slain before me; then down with a swoop?I get me from my skyey throne, and dye?Deep in the ruddy stream my talons grey--?Hurrah! hurrah! blood red's the flag for me!"
The time will come, proud one, when thou shalt die!?"Die! Death I cast from me as these loose plumes?That moult out from my pinions--let them go?To Earth, and Death go with them, both I leave?To mortals. What have I to do with Time??Let him