 | The Josephine Gallery |  |
258
HORTENSE.
Reared in that beautiful land where the sun
Makes everything which he shines on glad,
What, innocent child, couldst thou have done,
That thine after life should be so sad!
Makes everything which he shines on glad,
What, innocent child, couldst thou have done,
That thine after life should be so sad!
What evil stars in thy sky had met,
An influence over thy way to shed;
That woe's most woeful crown was set
So heavily on thy bright young head?
An influence over thy way to shed;
That woe's most woeful crown was set
So heavily on thy bright young head?
Through all the days of a troubled life,
Thine only portion was woe and tears,
As a daughter, mother, friend, or wife,
Down to the end of thy wretched years.
Thine only portion was woe and tears,
As a daughter, mother, friend, or wife,
Down to the end of thy wretched years.
Oh, brighter and better thy lot had been
Had thy early love been its own pure guide,
And they had been saved from a fearful sin
Who broke thy heart in their evil pride.
Had thy early love been its own pure guide,
And they had been saved from a fearful sin
Who broke thy heart in their evil pride.
259
Early in life began thy doom,
Of hopeless sorrow and sad disgrace;
As the prison shadow's awful gloom,
Fell heavily over thy childish face.
Of hopeless sorrow and sad disgrace;
As the prison shadow's awful gloom,
Fell heavily over thy childish face.
But bitterer, bitterer still the part
Thy womanhood was doomed to fill;
Striving to hide away in thy heart
A love which thou couldst not crush nor kill.
Thy womanhood was doomed to fill;
Striving to hide away in thy heart
A love which thou couldst not crush nor kill.
And coming sadly at last to stand
Where but happy lovers alone should wed;
And give to thy bridegroom only a hand,
In place of the heart that was cold and dead.
Where but happy lovers alone should wed;
And give to thy bridegroom only a hand,
In place of the heart that was cold and dead.
Wedding one whom thou couldst not love,
Loving one whom thou couldst not wed,
With no hope below, and no hope above,
Mourning over a first-born dead;
Loving one whom thou couldst not wed,
With no hope below, and no hope above,
Mourning over a first-born dead;
Alas! we can only mourn and weep
O'er a wasted, profitless, life-time past,
We can only hope thou art well asleep
Where the weary rest from their cares at last.
O'er a wasted, profitless, life-time past,
We can only hope thou art well asleep
Where the weary rest from their cares at last.
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