 | Poems |  |
166
DESPONDENCY.
Πονας μυριος εγευσαμην.
Euripides.
Euripides.
And canst thou wonder I am sad,
That once was gayest of the gay?
And canst thou bid my heart be glad,
When all of joy has pass'd away?
Wonder not, wonder not!
Despair must ever be my lot.
I've suffered every mortal wrong,
I've seen each hope I cherish'd cross'd,
And mine must be a mournful song,
For I am joyless, hopeless, lost!
That once was gayest of the gay?
And canst thou bid my heart be glad,
When all of joy has pass'd away?
Wonder not, wonder not!
Despair must ever be my lot.
I've suffered every mortal wrong,
I've seen each hope I cherish'd cross'd,
And mine must be a mournful song,
For I am joyless, hopeless, lost!
Did not the dear lov'd one, for whom
I yielded up my youth's best years,
With slow decay sink to the tomb,
And leave me but my sighs and tears?
Fading fleet—fading fleet!
When she seem'd most pure and sweet!
I won her beauties but to see
Them in the grave untimely fall,
And feel, when all were envying me,
That I the saddest was of all!
I yielded up my youth's best years,
With slow decay sink to the tomb,
And leave me but my sighs and tears?
167
When she seem'd most pure and sweet!
I won her beauties but to see
Them in the grave untimely fall,
And feel, when all were envying me,
That I the saddest was of all!
The friends, I valued most, betray'd;
And those my household nurtur'd, still
With blackest perjury essay'd
To work me every human ill!
Faithless crew!—Faithless crew!
But remorse will yield their due!
To every grateful feeling proof,
They play'd the traitor's, slanderer's part,
And, shelter'd 'neath my trusting roof,
Fawn'd on my hand, and stabb'd my heart!
And those my household nurtur'd, still
With blackest perjury essay'd
To work me every human ill!
Faithless crew!—Faithless crew!
But remorse will yield their due!
To every grateful feeling proof,
They play'd the traitor's, slanderer's part,
And, shelter'd 'neath my trusting roof,
Fawn'd on my hand, and stabb'd my heart!
I've let my harp neglected lie,
And slighted all the gifts Heaven gave,
I've let my young ambition die,
Nor wrought one deed my name to save.
Wasted youth!—Wasted youth!
Now too late I wake to truth!
Then wonder not that I am sad,
Nor consolation seek to give;
But bid me to my sorrow add,
And rather marvel that I live!
And slighted all the gifts Heaven gave,
I've let my young ambition die,
Nor wrought one deed my name to save.
Wasted youth!—Wasted youth!
Now too late I wake to truth!
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Nor consolation seek to give;
But bid me to my sorrow add,
And rather marvel that I live!
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