 | The vision of Cortes, Cain, and other poems |  |
108
STANZAS TO IDA.
I.
Sweet Ida, now upon the sea,And far from land, and darting on,
I feel how much I lose in thee,
And cheerless, watch the sun go down.
He sits behind the distant shore,
Which I have left, and where thou art;
And all is dark, my path before—
I lose my light, I leave my heart!
II.
Thou may'st not watch, when I am gone—Thou will not weep my absence now—
Thou art not, like myself, alone,
And hast no chill'd or aching brow.
Many will watch thy weary hours,
And, should disease, with venom'd breath,
Enter thy gay and happy bow'rs,
Will chase away, and conquer, death.
109
III.
For me, alas! what hopes arise,What prayers ascend, to bless my fate—
Shall mine be calm and breezy skies,
Or, does the stroke of wo, await!
I sit upon the bounding bark,
And strike my lyre of wo, to thee—
The clouds come down, the night is dark,
And, moans aloud, the sullen sea!
IV.
According, with my loneliness,How sweet its murmurs are, to me!
The voice of storms, the sea's distress,
Than music's song, unless with thee!
O! could I send my thought abroad,
To touch thy soul, or meet thine ear,
Thou'dst see those passions all outlaw'd,
That winds now mock, and waters hear.
V.
On, with the broken lyre, and heart,Thou bark of destiny, away—
Swift as thy shooting prow can part,
The whistling winds and mounting spray.
110
The song I pour upon the sea;
And thou wilt hail the morning's light,
And I—oh, Ida, aught but thee.
| The vision of Cortes, Cain, and other poems | |