Tasso and the Sisters Tasso's Spirit: The Nuptials of Juno: The Skeletons: The Spirits of the Ocean. Poems, By Thomas Wade |
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 | Tasso and the Sisters |  |
‘I was the Parent of as fair a Child
As ever gamboll'd o'er the the meads of Spring.
Unceasing mirth and fine intelligence
Were her peculiar attributes—tho' young;
For fifteen Autumns had not yet opprest
The earth with moistureless and faded leaves
Since she was born: her deep blue eye
Just spoke of rising passion, and her ear
Now lov'd impassion'd melody, the which
Her small lips warbled forth in strains divine:
In the light dance did she the lightest move,
And the most exquisite in form and step.
Dead was her mother—she my only child;
The spring of all my pleasures, all my love;
The only object that I priz'd on earth—
My earthly jewel, that had hues of heaven!
She died—my sweet girl died: her eloquence
Grew silent, and her beauty pale and dim;
The azure brilliance of her eye declin'd,
And Death exulted o'er her dying frame.
In the cold earth she was by moonlight laid,
When all was voiceless as her whit'ning lip,
Save the loud pealing of the funeral bell
That pour'd monotonous music into air.
My bliss was buried in my offspring's grave;—
I liv'd in utter solitude and woe,
Far from all revelry; for sounds of joy
Fell on the stillness of my broken heart
As fall the sun-beams on a plague-struck City,
Which doubly desolate and fearful make
The desolation which their splendor lights!’
As ever gamboll'd o'er the the meads of Spring.
Unceasing mirth and fine intelligence
Were her peculiar attributes—tho' young;
For fifteen Autumns had not yet opprest
The earth with moistureless and faded leaves
Since she was born: her deep blue eye
Just spoke of rising passion, and her ear
Now lov'd impassion'd melody, the which
Her small lips warbled forth in strains divine:
In the light dance did she the lightest move,
And the most exquisite in form and step.
Dead was her mother—she my only child;
The spring of all my pleasures, all my love;
The only object that I priz'd on earth—
My earthly jewel, that had hues of heaven!
She died—my sweet girl died: her eloquence
Grew silent, and her beauty pale and dim;
The azure brilliance of her eye declin'd,
And Death exulted o'er her dying frame.
In the cold earth she was by moonlight laid,
When all was voiceless as her whit'ning lip,
Save the loud pealing of the funeral bell
That pour'd monotonous music into air.
My bliss was buried in my offspring's grave;—
I liv'd in utter solitude and woe,
Far from all revelry; for sounds of joy
Fell on the stillness of my broken heart
As fall the sun-beams on a plague-struck City,
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The desolation which their splendor lights!’
| Tasso and the Sisters | |