The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott Edited by his Son Edwin Elliott ... A New and Revised Edition: Two Volumes |
 | I. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
| I. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| II. |
|
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
 | The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott |  |
Midnight was past. The children of the dead
Slept:—but the widow kiss'd his stiff'ning form,
Laid out his limbs, and wept; then o'er him threw
Her snowy bridal robe, and, like a worm,
Sank on his breast, convolved, but not in pain.
Lo! when she waked to thought and grief again,
A beauteous blue-eyed youth before her stood,
With golden ringlets, and an angel's grace,
And all the sweetness of the fair and good,
And more than mortal sorrow in his face!
On his young cheek th' unfaded rose was white,
And from his sodden hair the rain of night
Dripp'd. “Give me shelter till the morn,” he cried,
“I'm tired and cold.”
Zillah.
Slept:—but the widow kiss'd his stiff'ning form,
Laid out his limbs, and wept; then o'er him threw
Her snowy bridal robe, and, like a worm,
Sank on his breast, convolved, but not in pain.
Lo! when she waked to thought and grief again,
180
With golden ringlets, and an angel's grace,
And all the sweetness of the fair and good,
And more than mortal sorrow in his face!
On his young cheek th' unfaded rose was white,
And from his sodden hair the rain of night
Dripp'd. “Give me shelter till the morn,” he cried,
“I'm tired and cold.”
Whence com'st thou, pallid one?
Timna.
From Eden's forest, where the spectres glide.
Zil.
Where is thy home?
Tim.
In heaven! or I have none.
Zil.
Where are thy parents?
Tim.
Here no love-taught bird
Is motherless like me. But thou hast heard
My Father whisper! and it shakes th' abode
Of the archangels.
Zil.
Tell me, hast thou, then,
No friends?
Tim.
Yes, many friends; the great, good God,
The sinless spirits, and all righteous men.
Zil.
Where dwell'st thou?
Tim.
Everywhere. By summer floods
I sleep. I am the guest of all the woods,
And dine in caves that give the viper birth;
The clouds look on me from the hurried sky,
(They know their homeless brother of the earth;)
181
Still wandering with me through the desert, glad.
Zil.
Who art thou?
Tim.
I am Timna, call'd the sad,
Because fond mothers still are doom'd to see
Their most unhappy sons resemble me;—
Timna, at whose approach dull spirits flee;
Who sits beneath the roof of amethyst,
And treads the spacious, mountain-broider'd floor:
From courts and palaces, with scorn dismiss'd,
Nor always welcomed by the friendless poor;
But all the children of the forest know
The leveret's playmate, the lark's bed-fellow.
| The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott | |