Lays of the Scottish cavaliers and other poems By William Edmondstoune Aytoun ... Fourteenth edition |
THE BURIED FLOWER |
Lays of the Scottish cavaliers and other poems | ||
287
THE BURIED FLOWER
I
In the silence of my chamber,When the night is still and deep,
And the drowsy heave of ocean
Mutters in its charmèd sleep,
II
Oft I hear the angel voicesThat have thrilled me long ago,—
Voices of my lost companions,
Lying deep beneath the snow.
288
III
O, the garden I remember,In the gay and sunny spring,
When our laughter made the thickets
And the arching alleys ring!
IV
O the merry burst of gladness!O the soft and tender tone!
O the whisper never uttered
Save to one fond ear alone!
V
O the light of life that sparkledIn those bright and bounteous eyes!
O the blush of happy beauty,
Tell-tale of the heart's surprise!
VI
O the radiant light that girdledField and forest, land and sea,
When we all were young together,
And the earth was new to me!
289
VII
Where are now the flowers we tended?Withered, broken, branch and stem;
Where are now the hopes we cherished?
Scattered to the winds with them.
VIII
For ye, too, were flowers, ye dear ones!Nursed in hope and reared in love,
Looking fondly ever upward
To the clear blue heaven above:
IX
Smiling on the sun that cheered us,Rising lightly from the rain,
Never folding up your freshness
Save to give it forth again:
X
Never shaken, save by accentsFrom a tongue that was not free,
As the modest blossom trembles
At the wooing of the bee.
290
XI
O! 'tis sad to lie and reckonAll the days of faded youth,
All the vows that we believed in,
All the words we spoke in truth.
XII
Severed—were it severed onlyBy an idle thought of strife,
Such as time may knit together;
Not the broken chord of life!
XIII
O my heart! that once so trulyKept another's time and tune,
Heart, that kindled in the morning,
Look around thee in the noon!
XIV
Where are they who gave the impulseTo thy earliest thought and flow?
Look across the ruined garden—
All are withered, dropped, or low!
291
XV
Seek the birthplace of the Lily,Dearer to the boyish dream
Than the golden cups of Eden,
Floating on its slumberous stream;
XVI
Never more shalt thou behold her—She, the noblest, fairest, best:
She that rose in fullest beauty,
Like a queen, above the rest.
XVII
Only still I keep her imageAs a thought that cannot die;
He who raised the shade of Helen
Had no greater power than I.
XVIII
O! I fling my spirit backward,And I pass o'er years of pain;
All I loved is rising round me,
All the lost returns again.
292
XIX
Blow, for ever blow, ye breezes,Warmly as ye did before!
Bloom again, ye happy gardens,
With the radiant tints of yore!
XX
Warble out in spray and thicket,All ye choristers unseen;
Let the leafy woodland echo
With an anthem to its queen!
XXI
Lo! she cometh in her beauty,Stately with a Juno grace,
Raven locks, Madonna-braided
O'er her sweet and blushing face:
XXII
Eyes of deepest violet, beamingWith the love that knows not shame—
Lips, that thrill my inmost being,
With the utterance of a name.
293
XXIII
And I bend the knee before her,As a captive ought to bow,—
Pray thee, listen to my pleading,
Sovereign of my soul art thou!
XXIV
O my dear and gentle lady!Let me show thee all my pain,
Ere the words that late were prisoned
Sink into my heart again.
XXV
Love, they say, is very fearfulEre its curtain be withdrawn,
Trembling at the thought of error
As the shadows scare the fawn.
XXVI
Love hath bound me to thee, lady!Since the well-remembered day
When I first beheld thee coming
In the light of lustrous May.
294
XXVII
Not a word I dared to utter—More than he who, long ago,
Saw the heavenly shapes descending
Over Ida's slopes of snow;
XXVIII
When a low and solemn musicFloated through the listening grove,
And the throstle's song was silenced,
And the doling of the dove:
XXIX
When immortal beauty openedAll its charms to mortal sight,
And the awe of worship blended
With the throbbing of delight.
XXX
As the shepherd stood before themTrembling in the Phrygian dell,
Even so my soul and being
Owned the magic of the spell;
295
XXXI
And I watched thee ever fondly,Watched thee, dearest! from afar,
With the mute and humble homage
Of the Indian to a star.
XXXII
Thou wert still the lady FloraIn her morning garb of bloom;
Where thou wert was light and glory,
Where thou wert not, dearth and gloom.
XXXIII
So for many a day I followed,For a long and weary while,
Ere my heart rose up to bless thee
For the yielding of a smile,—
XXXIV
Ere thy words were few and brokenAs they answered back to mine,
Ere my lips had power to thank thee
For the gift vouchsafed by thine.
296
XXXV
Then a mighty gush of passionThrough my inmost being ran;
Then my older life was ended,
And a dearer course began.
XXXVI
Dearer!—O! I cannot tell theeWhat a load was swept away,
What a world of doubt and darkness
Faded in the dawning day!
XXXVII
All my error, all my weakness,All my vain delusions fled;
Hope again revived, and gladness
Waved its wings above my head.
XXXVIII
Like the wanderer of the desert,When, across the dreary sand,
Breathes the perfume from the thickets
Bordering on the promised land:
297
XXXIX
When afar he sees the palm-treesCresting o'er the lonely well,
When he hears the pleasant tinkle
Of the distant camel's bell:
XL
So a fresh and glad emotionRose within my swelling breast,
And I hurried swiftly onwards
To the haven of my rest.
XLI
Thou wert there with word and welcome,With thy smile so purely sweet;
And I laid my heart before thee,
Laid it, darling! at thy feet.—
XLII
O ye words that sound so hollowAs I now recall your tone!
What are ye but empty echoes
Of a passion crushed and gone?
298
XLIII
Wherefore should I seek to kindleLight, when all around is gloom?
Wherefore should I raise a phantom
O'er the dark and silent tomb?
XLIV
Early wert thou taken, Mary!In thy fair and glorious prime,
Ere the bees had ceased to murmur
Through the umbrage of the lime.
XLV
Buds were blowing, waters flowing,Birds were singing on the tree,
Everything was bright and glowing,
When the angels came for thee.
XLVI
Death had laid aside his terror,And he found thee calm and mild,
Lying in thy robes of whiteness,
Like a pure and stainless child.
299
XLVII
Hardly had the mountain-violetSpread its blossoms on the sod,
Ere they laid the turf above thee,
And thy spirit rose to God.
XLVIII
Early wert thou taken, Mary!And I know 'tis vain to weep—
Tears of mine can never wake thee
From thy sad and silent sleep.
XLIX
O away! my thoughts are earthward!Not asleep, my love, art thou!
Dwelling in the land of glory
With the saints and angels now.
L
Brighter, fairer far than living,With no trace of woe or pain,
Robed in everlasting beauty,
Shall I see thee once again,
300
LI
By the light that never fadeth,Underneath eternal skies,
When the dawn of resurrection
Breaks o'er deathless Paradise.
Lays of the Scottish cavaliers and other poems | ||