Poetical Sketches With other poems. By Alaric A. Watts. Fourth Edition. Illustrated with engravings from designs by T. Stothard, R. A. and W. Nesfield |
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YEARS OF ANGUISH AND GLOOM HAVE GONE BY. |
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 | Poetical Sketches |  |
59
YEARS OF ANGUISH AND GLOOM HAVE GONE BY.
I will not court Lethean streams
My sorrowing sense to steep,
Nor drink oblivion to the themes
O'er which I love to weep.
LOGAN.
My sorrowing sense to steep,
Nor drink oblivion to the themes
O'er which I love to weep.
LOGAN.
I
Years of anguish and gloom have gone bySince I last drank the breath of thy sigh;
And—compelled by hard Fortune to sever,—
We parted in sadness—for ever!
II
What a host of remembrances rushOn my brain,—and my tears how they gush,
When in solitude's hour I dwell
On thy wild but prophetic ‘Farewell!’
66
III
Yes, ‘for ever’ thou saidst, though I deemedFortune kinder, perchance, than she seemed;
And, chiding thy fears with a kiss,
Bade thee dim not those moments of bliss!
IV
Even then death's dark web was around thee;The spells of the spoiler had bound thee;
And the Angel from Heaven that brings
Fate's last fiat—was waving his wings!
V
We parted.—What pen may portrayThe despair that o'ershadowed that day!
And even deeper our grief had been then,
Had we known we should meet not again!
VI
We parted.—Long years have now pastSince the hour that I gazed on thee last;
But, fresh in my memory, yet
Bloom the flowers of most mournful regret!
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VII
'Tis said, that for sorrow's worst stingTime a swift-healing balsam can bring;—
That earth's ills all must own his dominion,
And recede when they're touched by his pinion!
VIII
Could the power of Oblivion controlAll the gloom that oppresses my soul;
Could even Time with his wing interpose,
And freeze feeling's bright fount as it flows;—
IX
I would scorn the hard chain that must chillIn my bosom affection's fond thrill;
For the boon were ungrateful to me,
If it banished one sweet dream of thee!
X
But this thought shall afford me relief,In my moments of passion and grief,
That—whate'er be the depth of my woes—
They can never disturb thy repose!
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XI
No:—the venom-dipped arrows of doomCannot pierce to thy heart through the tomb;
And, though bitter, 'tis balm to my breast,
To know, thou'rt for ever at rest!
XII
No:—the clouds that burst over me nowCannot ruffle thy beautiful brow;—
In its sorrows my soul may repine;—
They can wake no wild echoes in thine!
XIII
Let the storms of adversity lour!So that thou hast escaped from their power;
They may pour forth their wrath on my head!—
They can break not the sleep of the dead.
XIV
And the poison of Envy and Malice,May still further imbitter Life's chalice;
But the cup, with a smile, shall be quaffed,
Since thou liv'st not to share in the draught!
| Poetical Sketches | |