The Poetry of Robert Burns Edited by William Ernest Henley and Thomas F. Henderson |
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THE LAMENT
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 | The Poetry of Robert Burns |  |
THE LAMENT
OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE OF A FRIEND'S AMOUR
Alas! how oft does Goodness wound itself,
And sweet Affection prove the spring of Woe!
HOME.
And sweet Affection prove the spring of Woe!
HOME.
I
O thou pale Orb that silent shinesWhile care-untroubled mortals sleep!
Thou seest a wretch who inly pines,
And wanders here to wail and weep!
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Beneath thy wan, unwarming beam;
And mourn, in lamentation deep,
How life and love are all a dream!
II
I joyless view thy rays adornThe faintly-markèd, distant hill;
I joyless view thy trembling horn
Reflected in the gurgling rill:
My fondly-fluttering heart, be still!
Thou busy pow'r, Remembrance, cease!
Ah! must the agonizing thrill
For ever bar returning Peace?
III
No idly-feign'd, poetic painsMy sad, love-lorn lamentings claim:
No shepherd's pipe—Arcadian strains;
No fabled tortures quaint and tame.
The plighted faith, the mutual flame,
The oft-attested Pow'rs above,
The promis'd father's tender name,
These were the pledges of my love!
IV
Encircled in her clasping arms,How have the raptur'd moments flown!
How have I wished for Fortune's charms,
For her dear sake, and her's alone!
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My secret heart's exulting boast?
And does she heedless hear my groan?
And is she ever, ever lost?
V
O! can she bear so base a heart,So lost to honour, lost to truth,
As from the fondest lover part,
The plighted husband of her youth?
Alas! Life's path may be unsmooth!
Her way may lie thro' rough distress!
Then, who her pangs and pains will soothe,
Her sorrows share, and make them less?
VI
Ye wingèd Hours that o'er us pass'd,Enraptur'd more the more enjoy'd,
Your dear remembrance in my breast
My fondly treasur'd thoughts employ'd:
That breast, how dreary now, and void,
For her too scanty once of room!
Ev'n ev'ry ray of Hope destroy'd,
And not a wish to gild the gloom!
VII
The morn, that warns th'approaching day,Awakes me up to toil and woe;
I see the hours in long array,
That I must suffer, lingering slow:
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Keen Recollection's direful train,
Must wring my soul, ere Phœbus, low,
Shall kiss the distant western main.
VIII
And when my nightly couch I try,Sore-harass'd out with care and grief,
My toil-beat nerves and tear-worn eye
Keep watchings with the nightly thief:
Or, if I slumber, Fancy, chief,
Reigns, haggard-wild, in sore affright:
Ev'n day, all-bitter, brings relief
From such a horror-breathing night.
IX
O thou bright Queen, who, o'er th'expanseNow highest reign'st, with boundless sway!
Oft has thy silent-marking glance
Observ'd us, fondly-wand'ring, stray!
The time, unheeded, sped away,
While Love's luxurious pulse beat high,
Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray,
To mark the mutual-kindling eye.
X
O scenes in strong remembrance set!Scenes, never, never to return!
Scenes if in stupor I forget,
Again I feel, again I burn!
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Life's weary vale I wander thro';
And hopeless, comfortless, I'll mourn
A faithless woman's broken vow!
| The Poetry of Robert Burns | |