The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
 | I, II. |
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ELEGIAC STANZAS, SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY JULIA, |
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| III, IV. |
| V. |
| VI, VII. |
| VIII, IX. |
| X. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
325
ELEGIAC STANZAS, SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY JULIA,
ON THE DEATH OF HER BROTHER.
Though sorrow long has worn my heart;
Though every day I've counted o'er
Hath brought a new and quick'ning smart
To wounds that rankled fresh before;
Though every day I've counted o'er
Hath brought a new and quick'ning smart
To wounds that rankled fresh before;
Though in my earliest life bereft
Of tender links by nature tied;
Though hope deceiv'd, and pleasure left;
Though friends betray'd and foes belied;
Of tender links by nature tied;
Though hope deceiv'd, and pleasure left;
Though friends betray'd and foes belied;
I still had hopes—for hope will stay
After the sunset of delight;
So like the star which ushers day,
We scarce can think it heralds night!—
After the sunset of delight;
So like the star which ushers day,
We scarce can think it heralds night!—
326
I hop'd that, after all its strife,
My weary heart at length should rest,
And, fainting from the waves of life,
Find harbour in a brother's breast.
My weary heart at length should rest,
And, fainting from the waves of life,
Find harbour in a brother's breast.
That brother's breast was warm with truth,
Was bright with honour's purest ray;
He was the dearest, gentlest youth—
Ah, why then was he torn away?
Was bright with honour's purest ray;
He was the dearest, gentlest youth—
Ah, why then was he torn away?
He should have stay'd, have linger'd here
To soothe his Julia's every woe;
He should have chas'd each bitter tear,
And not have caus'd those tears to flow.
To soothe his Julia's every woe;
He should have chas'd each bitter tear,
And not have caus'd those tears to flow.
We saw within his soul expand
The fruits of genius, nurs'd by taste;
While Science, with a fost'ring hand,
Upon his brow her chaplet plac'd.
The fruits of genius, nurs'd by taste;
While Science, with a fost'ring hand,
Upon his brow her chaplet plac'd.
We saw, by bright degrees, his mind
Grow rich in all that makes men dear;—
Enlighten'd, social, and refin'd,
In friendship firm, in love sincere.
Grow rich in all that makes men dear;—
Enlighten'd, social, and refin'd,
In friendship firm, in love sincere.
327
Such was the youth we lov'd so well,
And such the hopes that fate denied;—
We lov'd, but ah! could scarcely tell
How deep, how dearly, till he died!
And such the hopes that fate denied;—
We lov'd, but ah! could scarcely tell
How deep, how dearly, till he died!
Close as the fondest links could strain,
Twin'd with my very heart he grew;
And by that fate which breaks the chain,
The heart is almost broken too.
Twin'd with my very heart he grew;
And by that fate which breaks the chain,
The heart is almost broken too.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |