 | [Poems by Paulding in] Salmagundi |  |
157
ELEGY
ON A LADY SACRIFICED TO GOLD.
Her eyes were like the star-wrought firmament,
Ethereal blue, and lighted with pale fires,
Mild as the moonbeams when with shadows blent,
Speaking calm wishes, sweet, yet chaste desires.
Ethereal blue, and lighted with pale fires,
Mild as the moonbeams when with shadows blent,
Speaking calm wishes, sweet, yet chaste desires.
158
On her ripe cheek the rose did sometimes blow,
When a quick mantling blush abided there;
But oftener, the pale lily, white as snow,
Shed its soft hue beneath the shadowy hair.
When a quick mantling blush abided there;
But oftener, the pale lily, white as snow,
Shed its soft hue beneath the shadowy hair.
That hair seem'd as 'twas made for aye to twist
Round captiv'd hearts and never let them go,
So wantonly it tangled round, and kiss'd
Her lovely cheek, blue eye, and brow of snow.
Round captiv'd hearts and never let them go,
So wantonly it tangled round, and kiss'd
Her lovely cheek, blue eye, and brow of snow.
I've seen twin rose-buds blushing side by side,
When morning dews the insect rabble sip;
But never yet did hue or sweet abide,
On dew-lapp'd rose, like those on her red lip.
When morning dews the insect rabble sip;
But never yet did hue or sweet abide,
On dew-lapp'd rose, like those on her red lip.
No wandering shepherd, who sojourns awhile
In bless'd Arabia, where the spices grow,
E'er saw the morn of May wear such a smile,
Or knew such sweets as from those lips did flow.
In bless'd Arabia, where the spices grow,
E'er saw the morn of May wear such a smile,
Or knew such sweets as from those lips did flow.
I've heard the turtle moan her roundelay
The breathing flute, and hunter's mellow horn,
Winding in soften'd distance, far away,
Along the hills, by answering echoes borne:
The breathing flute, and hunter's mellow horn,
Winding in soften'd distance, far away,
Along the hills, by answering echoes borne:
But when she spoke, and plaintive smil'd the while,
Op'd her red lip, and show'd the ivory row,
There was a harmony in speech and smile,
That turtle, flute, or horn did never know.
Op'd her red lip, and show'd the ivory row,
There was a harmony in speech and smile,
That turtle, flute, or horn did never know.
159
Thus cloth'd with every attribute of Heav'n,
She seem'd by holy Providence design'd
A rich and bright temptation, to be giv'n,
For some heroic act, or task of mind.
She seem'd by holy Providence design'd
A rich and bright temptation, to be giv'n,
For some heroic act, or task of mind.
But she was thrown away upon a clod
Of senseless earth, with neither heart nor soul;
A libel both on nature and on God—
A man who liv'd for gambling and the bowl.—
Of senseless earth, with neither heart nor soul;
A libel both on nature and on God—
A man who liv'd for gambling and the bowl.—
Who knew not what a treasure he possess'd,
But threw it from him as a worthless toy,
And turn'd from where an angel would have bless'd,
To scenes of senseless riot, beastly joy.
But threw it from him as a worthless toy,
And turn'd from where an angel would have bless'd,
To scenes of senseless riot, beastly joy.
The animal was rich, and her harsh sire,
Who could not comprehend a greater good,
Condemn'd his child to this ordeal of fire,
And sacrific'd to gold his flesh and blood.
Who could not comprehend a greater good,
Condemn'd his child to this ordeal of fire,
And sacrific'd to gold his flesh and blood.
At his command a heartless hand she gave,
Surrender'd a cold, shrinking, lifeless form,
And gave up one so beautiful and brave,
To consort with a wretched earth-born worm.
Surrender'd a cold, shrinking, lifeless form,
And gave up one so beautiful and brave,
To consort with a wretched earth-born worm.
For wo was her!—she lov'd another man—
A man to whom this husband was no more
Than was the beast that through the forest ran,
To the gay hunter, who his honours wore.
A man to whom this husband was no more
Than was the beast that through the forest ran,
To the gay hunter, who his honours wore.
160
Glory and love were his most prime delights,
But virtuous love, in truth, he valued best,
And snatch'd at glory, as a heav'nly light,
To waken love in some high woman's breast.
But virtuous love, in truth, he valued best,
And snatch'd at glory, as a heav'nly light,
To waken love in some high woman's breast.
But what of that!—the ties of gentle love
Are naught to those that only breathe for gold;
So Av'rice burst the bands Affection wove,
And the bright victim, like a slave, was sold.
Are naught to those that only breathe for gold;
So Av'rice burst the bands Affection wove,
And the bright victim, like a slave, was sold.
Yet though they drove her to another's bed,
They could not make the hapless girl forget,
Another hand should to the church have led,
Another heart her throbbing heart have met.
They could not make the hapless girl forget,
Another hand should to the church have led,
Another heart her throbbing heart have met.
Heart-burning wishes, and heart-sick disgust,
By turns or scorch'd or froze her gentle blood;
And life was one hard struggle from the first,
To conquer hate, and quell love's raging flood.
By turns or scorch'd or froze her gentle blood;
And life was one hard struggle from the first,
To conquer hate, and quell love's raging flood.
And she did conquer, but it cost her life;
For cruel was the strife she had to bear,
Between the love-lorn mistress, wretched wife,
Blooming and beck'ning Love, and withered stern Despair
For cruel was the strife she had to bear,
Between the love-lorn mistress, wretched wife,
Blooming and beck'ning Love, and withered stern Despair
Pale grew her cheek, and paler every day,
Yet still sad patience bided in her eye—
Slowly, yet surely, sorrow work'd its way;
She died without a struggle, or a sigh.
Yet still sad patience bided in her eye—
Slowly, yet surely, sorrow work'd its way;
She died without a struggle, or a sigh.
161
One dark November day, when a chill blast
Swept through the churchyard with a moaning sound;
When round, the wither'd leaves were idly cast,
And the dry grass lay dead upon the ground—
Swept through the churchyard with a moaning sound;
When round, the wither'd leaves were idly cast,
And the dry grass lay dead upon the ground—
I follow'd her pale corse to its sad cell,
Where all that once was beauty now repos'd,
And heard the hollow earth sound, slowly swell,
Fainter and fainter, till the grave was clos'd.
Where all that once was beauty now repos'd,
And heard the hollow earth sound, slowly swell,
Fainter and fainter, till the grave was clos'd.
I saw an old man with a head of snow,
Stand like a statue, cut from solid stone;
A sad and moveless monument of wo,
Beside the grave all desolate and lone.
Stand like a statue, cut from solid stone;
A sad and moveless monument of wo,
Beside the grave all desolate and lone.
No wringing of the feeble hands was here,
Nor heaving breast discharging heavy sighs,
Nor furrow'd cheek moistened with trickling tear—
Despair alone glar'd in his hollow eyes.
Nor heaving breast discharging heavy sighs,
Nor furrow'd cheek moistened with trickling tear—
Despair alone glar'd in his hollow eyes.
And I would not have had that old man's heart,
For all this world's wealth twenty times full told;
Nor borne its slow, consuming, killing smart—
For 'twas the father, who his daughter sold!
For all this world's wealth twenty times full told;
Nor borne its slow, consuming, killing smart—
For 'twas the father, who his daughter sold!
| [Poems by Paulding in] Salmagundi | |