« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
Thy day without a cloud hath past, And thou wert lovely to the last;
Extinguish'd, not decay'd; As stars that shoot along the sky Shine brightest as they fall from high.
As once I wept, if I could weep
My tears might well be shed,
One vigil o'er thy bed ;
Uphold thy drooping head;
Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free, The loveliest things that still remain,
Than thus remember thee!
Returns again to me,
If sometimes in the haunts of men
Thine image from my breast may fade, The lonely hour presents again
The semblance of thy gentle shade: And now that sad and silent hour
Thus much of thee can still restore, And sorrow unobserved may pour
The plaint she dare not speak before.
Oh, pardon that in crowds awhile,
I waste one thought I owe to thee,
Unfaithful to thy Memory!
That then I seem not to repine,
One sigh that should be wholly thine.
If not the Goblet pass unquaff’d,
It is not drain'd to banish care,
That brings a Lethe for despair.
And could Oblivion set my soul
From all her troubled visions free, I'd dash to earth the sweetest bowl
That drown'd a single thought of thee.
For wert thou vanish'd from my mind,
Where could my vacant bosom turn? And who would then remain behind
To honour thine abandon'd Urn? No, No-it is my sorrow's pride
That last dear duty to fulfil; Though all the world forget beside,
'Tis meet that I remember still.
For well I know, that such had been
Thy gentle care for him, who now Unmourn'd shall quit this mortal scene,
Where none regarded him, but thou:
A blessing never meant for me;
March 14th, 1812. ON A CORNELIAN HEART WHICH WAS
ILL-FATED Heart! and can it be
That thou shouldst thus be rent in twain ?
Alike been all employ'd in vain ?
Yet precious seems each shatter'd part,
And every fragment dearer grown,
A fitter emblem of his own.
[Tbis poem and the following were written some years ago.]
TO A YOUTHFUL FRIEND.
Preserved our feelings long the same.
But now, like me, too well thou know'st
What trifles oft the heart recall;
Too soon forget they loved at all.
So frail is early friendship’s reign,
Will view thy mind estranged again.
To mourn the loss of such a heart;
Which made thee fickle as thou art.
As rolls the ocean's changing tide,
So human feelings ebb and flow;
Where stormy passions ever glow ?
It boots not, that together bred,
Our childish days were days of joy ;
Thou, too, hast ceased to be a boy.