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By many a shore and many a sea
Divided, yet beloved in vain; The past, the future fled to thee
To bid us meet-no-ne'er again!
As the chief who to combat advances,
Secure of his conquest before,
Hast pierced through my heart to its core.
By pangs which a smile would dispel ? Would the hope, which thou once bad'st me cherish,
For torture repay me too well? Now sad is the garden of roses,
Beloved but false Haidée ! There Flora all wither'd reposes,
And mourns o'er thine absence with me.
Could this have been a word, a look
That softly said “We part in peace," Had taught my bosom how to brook,
With fainter sighs, thy soul's release.
And didst thou not, since Death for thee
Prepared a light and pangless dart, Once long for him thou ne'er shall see,
Who held, and holds thee in his heart?
Oh! who like him had watch'd thee here?
Or sadly mark'd thy glazing eye, In that dread hour ere death appear,
When silent sorrow fears to sigh,
WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE.
DEAR object of defeated care !
Though not of love and thee bereft, To reconcile me with despair
Thine image and my tears are left.
Till all was past! But when no more
'Twas thine to reck of human wo, Affection's heart-drops, gushing o'er,
Had flow'd as fast-as now they flow.
"Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope;
But this I feel can ne'er be true: For by the death-blow of my Hope My Memory immortal grew
Shall they not flow, when many a day
In these, to me, deserted towers, Ere call'd but for a time away,
Affection's mingling tears were ours ?
Ours tou the glance none saw beside ;
Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep, The smile none else might understand;
Thou art but now a lovely dream; The whisper'd thought of hearts allied,
A star that trembled o'er the deep, The pressure of the thrilling hand;
Then turn'd from earth its tender beam;
But, he, who through life's dreary way The kiss, so guiltless and refined
Must pass, when heaven is veil'd in wrath, That Love each warmer wish forebore,
Will long lament the vanish'd ray Those eyes proclaim'd so pure a mind,
That scattered gladness o'er his path. Even passion blush'd to plead for more.
Thou bitter pledge! thou mournful token!
Though Earth received them in her bed, Though painful, welcome to my breast!
And o'er the spot the crowd may tread, Still, still, preserve that love unbroken,
In carelessness or mirth,
A moment on that grave to look.
I will not ask where thou liest low,
Nor gaze upon the spot;
So I behold them not:
It is enough for me to prove,
That what I loved and long must love,
Like common earth can rot;
To me there needs no stone to tell,
Yet did I love thee to the last
As fervently as thou, No band of friends or heirs be there,
Who didst not change through all the past, To weep, or wish, the coming blow:
And canst not alter now. No maiden, with dishevell’d hair,
The love where Death has set his seal, To feel, or feign, decorous wo.
Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,
Nor falsehood disavow: But silent let me sink to Earth,
And, what were worse, thou canst not see With no officious mourners near:
Or wrong, or change, or fault in me.
The better days of life were ours;
The worst can be but mine: Yet Love, if Love in such an hour
The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers, Could nobly check its useless sighs,
Shall never more be thine. Might then exert its latest power,
The silence of that dreamless sleep In her who lives and him who dies.
I envy now too much to weep,
Nor need I to repine, 'Twere sweet, my Psyche! to the last
That all those charms have pass'd away; Thy features still serene to see :
I might have watch'd through long decay. Forgetful of its struggles past, E’en Pain itself should smile on thee.
The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd,
Must fall the earliest prey; But vain the wish--for Beauty. still
Though by no hand untimely snatch'd, Will shrink, as shrinks the ebbing breath, And woman's tears, produced at will,
The leaves must drop away:
And yet it were a greater grief, Deceive in life, unman in death.
To watch it withering, leaf by leaf,
Than see it pluck'd to-day;
Since earthly eye but ill can bear
To trace the change to foul from fair.
I know not if I could have borne “Ay, but to die, and go,” alas !
To see thy beauties fade; Where all have gone, and all must go!
The night that follow'd such a morn To be the nothing that I was,
Had worn a deeper shade: Ere born to life or living wo!
Thy day without a cloud hath past,
And thou wert lovely to the last; Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen,
Extinguish'd, not decay'd; Count o'er thy days from anguish free,
As stars that shoot along the sky And know, whatever thou hast been,
Shine brightest as they fall from high. 'Tis something better not to be.
As once I wept, if I could weep,
My tears might well be shed,
To think I was not near to keep
One vigil o'er thy bed ;
To gaze, how fondly! on thy face,
To fold thee in a faint embrace,
Uphold thy drooping head;
And show that love, however vain,
Nor thou nor I can feel again.
Yet how much less it were to gain
Though thou hast left me free,
I kiss'd it, and repress’d my sighs,
Its father in its face to see;
And they were all to love and me.
Mary, adieu! I must away:
While thou art blest I'll not repine, But near thee I can never stay;
My heart would soon again be thine.
Ye who beheld, (oh! sight admired and mourn'd,
I deem'd that time, I deem'd that pride
Had quench'd at length my boyish flame, Nor knew, till seated by thy side,
My heart in all, sare hope, the same.