The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir Edited by Thomas Aird: With A Memoir of the Author |
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ELEGIAC STANZAS.
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 | The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir |  |
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ELEGIAC STANZAS.
TO THE MEMORY OF D. M. M.
I
Brightly the sun illumes the skies,But Nature's charms no bliss impart;
A cloud seems spread before the eyes,
Whose wintry shadow chills the heart:
Oh! eyes that, for my children's sake,
Have poured forth tears like summer rain!
Oh! breaking heart, that will not break,
Yet never can be whole again!
II
Two years agone, and where shone hearthSo fraught with buoyant mirth as ours?
Five fairies knit our thoughts to earth
With bands like steel, tho' wreath'd of flowers:
How wildly warm, how softly sweet,
The spells that bade our hearts rejoice;
While echo'd round us pattering feet,
And voices—that seem'd Joy's own voice!
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III
Then light and life illumed each eye,And rapture beam'd from each young brow,
And eager forms were flitting by,
That would not—could not rest; but now—
The light is quench'd, the life is fled;
Where are the feet that bounded free?
Thrice have we wept the early dead,
And one small grave-turf covers three!
IV
The spell is broken! never moreCan mortal life again seem gay;
No future ever can restore
The perish'd and the past away!
Though many a blessing gilds our lot,
Though bright eyes still our hearth illume;
Yet, O dear lost ones! ye are not,
And half the heart is in your tomb!
V
Sudden it fell, the fatal shaft,That struck blithe Charlie down in death;
And, while Grief's bitterest cup we quaff'd,
We turned to watch wee Willie's breath,
That faintly ebb'd, and ebb'd away,
Till all was still; and, ere the sun
A tenth time shed his parting ray,
Their bed of dreamless rest was one!
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VI
And next, dear David, thou art gone!Beloved boy, and can it be,
That now to us remains alone
Our unavailing grief for thee?
Yet, when we trace thine upward track
To where immortal spirits reign,
We do not, dare not, wish thee back—
Back to this world of care again!
VII
Summer was on the hills; the treesWere bending down with golden fruit;
The bushes seem'd alive with bees,
And birds whose songs were never mute;
But 'twas even then, dear boy, when flowers,
O'ermantling earth, made all things gay,
That winter of the heart was ours,
And thine the hues of pale decay!
VIII
Yes! David, but two moons agone,And who so full of life as thou?
An infant Samson, vigour shone
In thy knit frame and fearless brow.
Oh! how our inmost souls it stirr'd,
To listen to thine alter'd tongue,
And see thee moping like a bird,
Whose strength was like the lion's young.
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IX
Yet so it was;—and, day by day,Unquench'd thy thirst for sun and air,
Down the smooth walks, with blossoms gay,
We wheel'd thee in thy garden-chair;
And as we mark'd thy languid eye,
Wistful, the beds of bloom survey,
We dared not think thou wert to die,
Even in a briefer space than they.
X
Now gleams the west, a silver seaBesprent with clouds of wavy gold;
Earth looks like Eden; can it be
That all thy days and nights are told?
Is there no voice, whose potent sway,
Can pierce through Death's Cimmerian gloom,
Can bid the dead awake, and say—
“Arise! 'tis morning in the tomb?”
XI
Yes! such there is; and thou that voiceHast heard—hast heard it, and obey'd;
And we should mourn not, but rejoice
That Heaven is now thy dwelling made—
That thou hast join'd thy brothers lost—
That thou hast reach'd a happy shore,
Where peace awaits the tempest-tost,
And stormy billows rage no more.
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XII
Three blessed beings! ye are nowWhere pangs and partings are unknown,
Where glory girds each sainted brow,
And golden harps surround the throne:
Oh! to have hail'd that blissful sight,
Unto the angels only given,
When thy two brothers, robed in light,
Embraced thee at the gates of Heaven!
XIII
David, farewell! our mourning thusWe know 'tis vain; it may not be
That thou can'st come again to us,
But we, dear child, will go to thee:
“When David saw that his servants whispered, David perceived that the child was dead: therefore David said unto his servants, Is the child dead? And they said, He is dead.
“Then David arose from the earth, and washed, and anointed himself, and changed his apparel, and came into the house of the Lord, and worshipped: then he came to his own house; and when he required, they set bread before him, and he did eat.
“Then said his servants unto him, What thing is this that thou hast done? thou didst fast and weep for the child while it was alive; but when the child was dead, thou didst rise and eat bread.
“And he said, While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept: for I said, Who can tell whether God will be gracious to me, that the child may live?
“But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.”
—2 Samuel, xii. 19-23.
Then let our thoughts ascend on high,
To Him whose arm is strong to save;
Hope gives to Faith the victory,
And glory dawns beyond the grave!
September 1839.
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