 | Lyrics of the heart |  |
56
THE RETURN FROM INDIA.
But when returned the youth? The youth no more
Returned exulting to his native shore;
But forty years were past, and then there came
A worn-out man.
CRABBE.
Returned exulting to his native shore;
But forty years were past, and then there came
A worn-out man.
CRABBE.
The haunts of my boyhood are gleaming around me,
All bright in the sunshine that graced them of yore;
But where are the heart-cherished hopes that have bound me
Through the changes of years to this fondly loved shore?
Can the riches of earth, that like curses surround me,
Life's young dream of delight to my longings restore!
All bright in the sunshine that graced them of yore;
But where are the heart-cherished hopes that have bound me
Through the changes of years to this fondly loved shore?
Can the riches of earth, that like curses surround me,
Life's young dream of delight to my longings restore!
The same summer landscape beside me is smiling;
The same summer ocean before me is spread;
All transparent as truth, and in peace as beguiling,
As when first from these shores o'er its waters I sped;
My lorn heart from each home-nurtured vision exiling,
To return when the hopes that were fairest had fled.
The same summer ocean before me is spread;
All transparent as truth, and in peace as beguiling,
As when first from these shores o'er its waters I sped;
My lorn heart from each home-nurtured vision exiling,
To return when the hopes that were fairest had fled.
57
Accursed be the fatal ambition that bore me
From yon vale of repose and its transports untold;
Accursed the dark spell that so long lingered o'er me,
And detained me from bliss, though with fetters of gold:
Can my dearly-earned wealth for one moment restore me
The feelings and thoughts that enchanted of old!
From yon vale of repose and its transports untold;
Accursed the dark spell that so long lingered o'er me,
And detained me from bliss, though with fetters of gold:
Can my dearly-earned wealth for one moment restore me
The feelings and thoughts that enchanted of old!
But a few painful years,—so I thought in my sorrow,—
And my spirit shall break so degrading a chain;
Yet another, one more, from life's sunshine I'll borrow,
Then seek the green haunts of my childhood again:
Seasons waned, wealth increased, still I spake of the morrow;
Now the bubble hath burst, and I seek them in vain!
And my spirit shall break so degrading a chain;
Yet another, one more, from life's sunshine I'll borrow,
Then seek the green haunts of my childhood again:
Seasons waned, wealth increased, still I spake of the morrow;
Now the bubble hath burst, and I seek them in vain!
Though the tears when our last parting moments were fleeting,
And my bark had unfurled her white wings in the bay,
Were heart-rending and wild, and unwelcome the greeting
That called me from home's calm enjoyments away,—
Far keener my anguish, more bitter my meeting
With the friends who are waiting to clasp me to-day!
And my bark had unfurled her white wings in the bay,
Were heart-rending and wild, and unwelcome the greeting
That called me from home's calm enjoyments away,—
Far keener my anguish, more bitter my meeting
With the friends who are waiting to clasp me to-day!
The willow I planted, meek mourner, is drooping
Its silver-green boughs yon bright streamlet beside;—
What a host of sad thoughts on my memory is trooping,
Of joys that have withered, and hopes that have died,
As I turn from that tree, in humility stooping,
To my stubborner dreams of ambition and pride!
Its silver-green boughs yon bright streamlet beside;—
What a host of sad thoughts on my memory is trooping,
Of joys that have withered, and hopes that have died,
As I turn from that tree, in humility stooping,
To my stubborner dreams of ambition and pride!
58
Every bush with a burst of wild music is ringing;
Not a breath but is loaded with odours divine;
In the old trysting-thorn its lone blackbird is singing
A descant of grief o'er the day-star's decline;
And the lark to her nest in the clover is winging
Her way, with a heart how much lighter than mine!
Not a breath but is loaded with odours divine;
In the old trysting-thorn its lone blackbird is singing
A descant of grief o'er the day-star's decline;
And the lark to her nest in the clover is winging
Her way, with a heart how much lighter than mine!
There the old village church in the radiance is burning,
With its tall chancel-window all flashing with fire;
And its glossy green ivy, sun chequered, is turning
To gold, as of yore, but seems broader and higher:
Oh, would that my heart, for calm happiness yearning,
Thus had learned in the precincts of peace to aspire!
With its tall chancel-window all flashing with fire;
And its glossy green ivy, sun chequered, is turning
To gold, as of yore, but seems broader and higher:
Oh, would that my heart, for calm happiness yearning,
Thus had learned in the precincts of peace to aspire!
What a brood of fond thoughts to my heart-strings are clinging;
In each tree, each grey stone, some sad record I see;
Not a breath o'er yon low garden wall but is flinging
A perfume abroad that is vocal to me:
Not a sight, not a sound, not a scent but is bringing
Some vision of bliss that no longer may be.
In each tree, each grey stone, some sad record I see;
Not a breath o'er yon low garden wall but is flinging
A perfume abroad that is vocal to me:
Not a sight, not a sound, not a scent but is bringing
Some vision of bliss that no longer may be.
'Neath the roof-tree I stand that o'ershadows the dwelling
That once shielded my childhood from sorrow and sin;
With what breathless emotion my bosom is swelling,
Now the haven is gained I've so panted to win;—
All without is the same; but low whispers are telling
Of the heart-wringing changes that 'wait me within!
That once shielded my childhood from sorrow and sin;
With what breathless emotion my bosom is swelling,
Now the haven is gained I've so panted to win;—
All without is the same; but low whispers are telling
Of the heart-wringing changes that 'wait me within!
59
Ay, wild is my grief as I gaze on my mother,
In the tears of her dotage decrepid and weak;
As I shrink from the time-wrinkled brow of my brother,
My sister's sad smile, and her care-stricken cheek;—
Then look round for the welcome and kiss of another;
'Till a glance hath revealed more than language can speak!
In the tears of her dotage decrepid and weak;
As I shrink from the time-wrinkled brow of my brother,
My sister's sad smile, and her care-stricken cheek;—
Then look round for the welcome and kiss of another;
'Till a glance hath revealed more than language can speak!
Scarce a blessing remains but is darkened or faded;
Scarce a friend of my youth but is dead or estranged;
Not a vision of hope my fond fancy had braided,
But some bliss-blighting chance hath destroyed or deranged;—
Not a promise of joy, but some sorrow has shaded;
Not a dear one is left, save in spirit, unchanged.
Scarce a friend of my youth but is dead or estranged;
Not a vision of hope my fond fancy had braided,
But some bliss-blighting chance hath destroyed or deranged;—
Not a promise of joy, but some sorrow has shaded;
Not a dear one is left, save in spirit, unchanged.
Wealth and honours are mine: but can riches secure me
The sinless enjoyments of days that are flown;
Can the phantom of Fame that from home could allure me,
For the blessings I've bartered to gain it atone?
Fatal gifts, in my anguish of soul I abjure ye;
All that sweetened and brightened existence is gone!
The sinless enjoyments of days that are flown;
Can the phantom of Fame that from home could allure me,
For the blessings I've bartered to gain it atone?
Fatal gifts, in my anguish of soul I abjure ye;
All that sweetened and brightened existence is gone!
| Lyrics of the heart | |