Ballads for the Times (Now first collected,) Geraldine, A Modern Pyramid, Bartenus, A Thousand Lines, and other poems. By Martin F. Tupper. A new Edition, enlarged and revised |
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| I. |
| II. |
Conclusion to Part II.
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| III. |
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 | Ballads for the Times |  |
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Conclusion to Part II.
For it doth mark a god-like mind,
Prudence, and power, and truth combined,
A rare self-steering moral strength,
To over-love the dreary length
Of ten successive anxious years,
Unwarp'd by hopes, untired by fears;
Still, as every teeming hour
Glides away in sun or shower,
Though the pilgrim foot may range,
The heart at home to feel no change,
But to live and linger on,
Fond and warm and true—to one!
O love like this, in life's young spring,
Is a rare and precious thing;
A pledge that man hath claims above,
A sister-twin to martyrs' love,
A shooting-star of blessed light
Glancing on the world's midnight,
A drop of sweet, where all beside
Is bitterest gall in life's dull tide,
One faithful found, where all was lost,
An Abdiel in Satan's host!
Prudence, and power, and truth combined,
A rare self-steering moral strength,
To over-love the dreary length
Of ten successive anxious years,
Unwarp'd by hopes, untired by fears;
Still, as every teeming hour
Glides away in sun or shower,
Though the pilgrim foot may range,
The heart at home to feel no change,
But to live and linger on,
Fond and warm and true—to one!
O love like this, in life's young spring,
Is a rare and precious thing;
A pledge that man hath claims above,
A sister-twin to martyrs' love,
A shooting-star of blessed light
Glancing on the world's midnight,
A drop of sweet, where all beside
Is bitterest gall in life's dull tide,
One faithful found, where all was lost,
An Abdiel in Satan's host!
To love, unshrinking and unshaken,
Albeit by all but hope forsaken,
To love, through slander, craft, and fear,
And fairer faces smiling near,
Through absence, stirring scenes among,
And harrowing silence, suffering long,
Still to love on,—and pray and weep
For that dear one, while others sleep,
To dwell upon each precious word
Which the charm'd ear in whispers heard,
To treasure up a lock of hair,
To watch the heart with jealous care,
To live on a remember'd smile,
And still the wearisome days beguile
With rosy sweet imaginings
And all the soft and sunny things
Look'd and spoken, e'er they parted,
Full of hope, though broken-hearted,—
O there is very virtue here,
Retiring, holy, deep, sincere,
A self-poised virtue, working still
To compass good, and combat ill,
Which none but worldlings count earth-born,
And they who know it not, can scorn.
Albeit by all but hope forsaken,
To love, through slander, craft, and fear,
And fairer faces smiling near,
330
And harrowing silence, suffering long,
Still to love on,—and pray and weep
For that dear one, while others sleep,
To dwell upon each precious word
Which the charm'd ear in whispers heard,
To treasure up a lock of hair,
To watch the heart with jealous care,
To live on a remember'd smile,
And still the wearisome days beguile
With rosy sweet imaginings
And all the soft and sunny things
Look'd and spoken, e'er they parted,
Full of hope, though broken-hearted,—
O there is very virtue here,
Retiring, holy, deep, sincere,
A self-poised virtue, working still
To compass good, and combat ill,
Which none but worldlings count earth-born,
And they who know it not, can scorn.
Ah yes, let common sinners jeer,
And Mammon's slaves suspect and sneer,
While each idolator of pelf
Judging from his gross-hearted self
Counts Love no purer and no higher
Than the low plot of base desire;—
Let worldly cunning nurse its dreams
Of happiness, from selfish schemes
By heartless hungry parents plann'd,
Of wedded fortune, rank, and land,—
There is more wisdom, and more wealth,
More rank in being, more soul's health,
In wedded love for one short hour,
Than lifelong wedded pelf and power!
Yes, there is virtue in these things;
A balm to heal the scorpion-stings
That others' sins and sorrows make
In hearts that still can weep and ache;
There is a heavenly influence,
A secret spiritual fence,
Circling the soul with present power
In temptation's darkest hour,
Walling it round from outward sin,
While all is soft and pure within.
And Mammon's slaves suspect and sneer,
While each idolator of pelf
Judging from his gross-hearted self
Counts Love no purer and no higher
Than the low plot of base desire;—
Let worldly cunning nurse its dreams
Of happiness, from selfish schemes
By heartless hungry parents plann'd,
Of wedded fortune, rank, and land,—
331
More rank in being, more soul's health,
In wedded love for one short hour,
Than lifelong wedded pelf and power!
Yes, there is virtue in these things;
A balm to heal the scorpion-stings
That others' sins and sorrows make
In hearts that still can weep and ache;
There is a heavenly influence,
A secret spiritual fence,
Circling the soul with present power
In temptation's darkest hour,
Walling it round from outward sin,
While all is soft and pure within.
| Ballads for the Times | |