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Away! We know that tears are vain,
eyes are wet.
When the lamp is shatter'd
When the cloud is scatter'd
When the lute is broken,
When the lips have spoken,
As music and splendour
The heart's echoes render
No song but sad dirges,
Or the mournful surges
When hearts have once mingled
The weak one is singled
O Love! who bewailest
Why choose you the frailest
Its passions will rock thee
Bright reason will mock thee,
From thy nest every rafter
Leave thee naked to laughter,
My silks and fine array,
My smiles and languish'd air,
And mournful lean Despair
When springing buds unfold ;
Whose heart is wintry cold?
Bring me a winding sheet ;
Let winds and tempests beat :
The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one ;
With the dying sun.
The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one ;
AWAY! The moor is dark beneath the moon,
Rapid clouds have drank the last pale beam of even: Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness
soon, And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights
Pause not! The time is past! Every voice cries, Away! Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle
mood : Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat
thy stay, Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.
Away, away ! to thy sad and silent home;
Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth; Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come,
And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.
The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around
thine head : The blooms of dewy spring shall gleam beneath thy
feet : But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that
binds the dead, Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou
and peace may meet.
The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose, For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the
deep : Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows ; Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves, hath its ap
Thou in the grave shalt rest-yet till the phantoms flee Which that house and heath and garden made dear
to thee erewhile, Thy remembrance, and repentance, and deep musings
are not free From the music of two voices and the light of one sweet smile.
Lycidas In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunately drown'd in his Passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, 1637. And by occasion foretels the ruine of our corrupted clergy then in their height.
Yet once more, O ye Laurels, and once more
Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,
Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well,
coy excuse ; So
may some gentle Muse With lucky words favour my
destined Urn, he
passes turn, And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud. For we were nursed
the self-same hill,
But O the heavy change, now thou art gone,
rhyme) verse. hill)*
sacred well] Helicon. oaten] shepherd's pipe.