 | The Woodman, and other poems |  |
26
ON LEAVING ROME.
There is an end to all we know,
A swift Good-bye to all we have;
Beyond the present thing we go,
No sovereign hand can hold or save.
A swift Good-bye to all we have;
Beyond the present thing we go,
No sovereign hand can hold or save.
Still echoes in my ear thy voice,
Majestic city of the Past!
And bids my doubting heart rejoice,
As now I quit thee speeding fast.
Majestic city of the Past!
And bids my doubting heart rejoice,
As now I quit thee speeding fast.
Whirled down the dark blue gulfs I float,
Toy of relentless Ocean's tide,
And brave the surging empire's note,
And bridge the emerald mountain's pride.
Toy of relentless Ocean's tide,
And brave the surging empire's note,
And bridge the emerald mountain's pride.
27
And I would seek the rolling war,
Nor fear, and with the wave contest,
To touch again the things that are
So softly folded o'er thy breast.
Nor fear, and with the wave contest,
To touch again the things that are
So softly folded o'er thy breast.
The airy arches tinted soft,
The moonlit fountain trilling clear,
The beauty of the landscape oft,
Thy pictures, and thy art so dear.
The moonlit fountain trilling clear,
The beauty of the landscape oft,
Thy pictures, and thy art so dear.
I sought thee not a traveller vain,
My heart was neither glad nor gay,
My life had proved a life of pain,
The flowers I love had bent away.
My heart was neither glad nor gay,
My life had proved a life of pain,
The flowers I love had bent away.
Few friendly voices cheered me on,
Few dear caresses went with me;
Alone I loved thee, I have won
A present happiness from thee.
Few dear caresses went with me;
Alone I loved thee, I have won
A present happiness from thee.
The truth that I had felt before,
I now can paint with clearer eye,
And that I did not reach, the more
Comes near me, and the reason why.
I now can paint with clearer eye,
And that I did not reach, the more
Comes near me, and the reason why.
28
My native land, the proud and strong,
Stands stronger matched with thy decline,
I learn from thee that hate is wrong,
And loving-kindness most divine.
Stands stronger matched with thy decline,
I learn from thee that hate is wrong,
And loving-kindness most divine.
To Rome, farewell! that faltering word,
Dear name!—so far thou art to me
The sweetest sound I ever heard,
Save the brave cry of liberty.
Dear name!—so far thou art to me
The sweetest sound I ever heard,
Save the brave cry of liberty.
| The Woodman, and other poems | |