The poetical works of William Nicholson With a memoir by Malcolm M'L. Harper ... Fourth edition |
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HENRY'S LAMENT. |
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 | The poetical works of William Nicholson |  |
HENRY'S LAMENT.
The sky was blue, the wind was still,
The blackbird whistled from the brake;
The setting sun's departing beams,
Gleamed o'er the smooth expanded lake:
The clustering trees on distant hills,
Seemed in its crystal breast to smile;
And fields, in Summer's beauty drest,
Confes't the weary ploughman's toil.
The blackbird whistled from the brake;
The setting sun's departing beams,
Gleamed o'er the smooth expanded lake:
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Seemed in its crystal breast to smile;
And fields, in Summer's beauty drest,
Confes't the weary ploughman's toil.
But Henry's heart was pres't wi' care,
Though Nature did her charms disclose;
Her mantle, tinged with various hues,
But served to tantalize his woes.
The soft wave murmured to his sighs,
Beside yon leafless foggëd tree;
And aye he sighed and said “Alas!
“Farewell ye bonny banks of Dee!
Though Nature did her charms disclose;
Her mantle, tinged with various hues,
But served to tantalize his woes.
The soft wave murmured to his sighs,
Beside yon leafless foggëd tree;
And aye he sighed and said “Alas!
“Farewell ye bonny banks of Dee!
“A long farewell, ye happy bowers,
Where Cultivation spreads her wing;
Ye mansions fair and wood-fringed vale,
Where warbling choirs delight to sing!
'Twas there where first my youthful heart
The hopes and fears of love essayed;
There first I saw the opening charms
Of thee, Maria, peerless maid.
Where Cultivation spreads her wing;
Ye mansions fair and wood-fringed vale,
Where warbling choirs delight to sing!
'Twas there where first my youthful heart
The hopes and fears of love essayed;
There first I saw the opening charms
Of thee, Maria, peerless maid.
“Her looks were like the summer morn,
When early sunbeams gild the flower;
Her cheek was like the damask rose,
While bending with the dewy shower,
But all her beauties to define,
Would need the noble Raphael's art;
But vain to me his living lines,
For deep they're graven on my heart.
When early sunbeams gild the flower;
Her cheek was like the damask rose,
While bending with the dewy shower,
But all her beauties to define,
Would need the noble Raphael's art;
But vain to me his living lines,
For deep they're graven on my heart.
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“'Twas hers to feel, while bended Want,
Breathed out his woes, his cares, and pain;
Her little all was freely lent;
He never told his tale in vain.
But if she read the luckless loves,
Of Anna and Palemon dear,
Arion's magic lines unfold;
Fast fell the sympathetic tear.
Breathed out his woes, his cares, and pain;
Her little all was freely lent;
He never told his tale in vain.
But if she read the luckless loves,
Of Anna and Palemon dear,
Arion's magic lines unfold;
Fast fell the sympathetic tear.
“Oft have I checked the glowing flame,
That fondly fluttered in my breast,
Lest friends should frown, or fate deny,
And hurt her wonted peace and rest.
But lovers vain the wish would hide,
For eyes can eloquently speak;
How soon she answered sigh for sigh,
While crimson blushes spread her cheek.
That fondly fluttered in my breast,
Lest friends should frown, or fate deny,
And hurt her wonted peace and rest.
But lovers vain the wish would hide,
For eyes can eloquently speak;
How soon she answered sigh for sigh,
While crimson blushes spread her cheek.
“Each look confes't, each touch betrayed,
And soft words lingered on my tongue;
And when she spake, upon the tones
My ravished ear with transports hung.
Sweet was the task for me to teach,
My lovely scholar all my skill;
To touch with art the warbling wire,
Or in that hand to guide the quill.
And soft words lingered on my tongue;
And when she spake, upon the tones
My ravished ear with transports hung.
Sweet was the task for me to teach,
My lovely scholar all my skill;
To touch with art the warbling wire,
Or in that hand to guide the quill.
“But fled, alas! are all my joys,
While memory rings the heart with pain;
The sweeter joy the keener grief
Because it ne'er returns again.
A cruel father's ruthless heart,
Forbade us ev'n the last adieu;
And robbed me of my soul's delight—
Maria's face no more I view.
While memory rings the heart with pain;
The sweeter joy the keener grief
Because it ne'er returns again.
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Forbade us ev'n the last adieu;
And robbed me of my soul's delight—
Maria's face no more I view.
“What boots his boasted sacred name,
His virtues feigned, all stern and vain;
He bows at Fashion's tinselled shrine,
To empty pride and sordid gain,
Ah! gaudy pomp, and gorgeous wealth!
For what ye take ye ill repay;
Ye steel the heart for selfish ends,
And sweep each social tie away.”
His virtues feigned, all stern and vain;
He bows at Fashion's tinselled shrine,
To empty pride and sordid gain,
Ah! gaudy pomp, and gorgeous wealth!
For what ye take ye ill repay;
Ye steel the heart for selfish ends,
And sweep each social tie away.”
| The poetical works of William Nicholson | |