 | The heir of the world, and lesser poems |  |
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THE EXILE.
Afar from all that once were dear,
In dawning manhood's hope and pride,
Without a friend to shed a tear,
Alone he suffered, groaned, and died;
By stranger forms his corse was borne,
Unwept, unto its last cold bed,
And left unhonoured and forlorn
Among the uncommuning dead.
In dawning manhood's hope and pride,
Without a friend to shed a tear,
Alone he suffered, groaned, and died;
By stranger forms his corse was borne,
Unwept, unto its last cold bed,
And left unhonoured and forlorn
Among the uncommuning dead.
O'er his lone grave no dear one mourned,
For none were there to weep for him;
No heart bereft in anguish burned,
No cheek grew pale, no bright eye dim;
But plaining stockdove sung his dirge,
And sighing sea-breeze moaned alone,
While conscious ocean's billowy surge
Round his last rest roar'd wildly on.
For none were there to weep for him;
No heart bereft in anguish burned,
No cheek grew pale, no bright eye dim;
But plaining stockdove sung his dirge,
And sighing sea-breeze moaned alone,
While conscious ocean's billowy surge
Round his last rest roar'd wildly on.
But far away sad spirits dreamed
Of coming hours of blissful love,
And hope's roselight in beauty gleamed,
Like stars revealing heaven above,
When the sunk heart again put on
The feeling of its earlier years,
And caught from scenes of pleasure gone
Sweet light to gild its present tears.
Of coming hours of blissful love,
And hope's roselight in beauty gleamed,
Like stars revealing heaven above,
When the sunk heart again put on
The feeling of its earlier years,
And caught from scenes of pleasure gone
Sweet light to gild its present tears.
And round the winter hearth, whose light
Blent with the gloom, like hope with fear,
Loved ones watched out the lingering night,
Musing of hours, long lost, still dear—
Far dearer now, for ever past—
When life was like an angel's lyre,
Each moment sweeter than the last,
And glowing with elysian fire.
Blent with the gloom, like hope with fear,
Loved ones watched out the lingering night,
Musing of hours, long lost, still dear—
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When life was like an angel's lyre,
Each moment sweeter than the last,
And glowing with elysian fire.
Alone they sat where he had been,
The brave, the fair, in happier days,
The spirit of each joyous scene,
When all the world was love and praise;
And hope, deferred, grew sick, and vain
Expectance turned to doubt, and dread
Of ill fell on the heart, with pain
They only know, whose hearts have bled.
The brave, the fair, in happier days,
The spirit of each joyous scene,
When all the world was love and praise;
And hope, deferred, grew sick, and vain
Expectance turned to doubt, and dread
Of ill fell on the heart, with pain
They only know, whose hearts have bled.
And long, long days and nights went by,
No tidings came—and weeks rolled on,
And months of sleepless agony
With the last hope had come and gone—
When from the ocean's bosom came
A voice that told of death, and o'er
Crushed hearts it dropped like molten flame,
Searing the chords that thrilled before.
No tidings came—and weeks rolled on,
And months of sleepless agony
With the last hope had come and gone—
When from the ocean's bosom came
A voice that told of death, and o'er
Crushed hearts it dropped like molten flame,
Searing the chords that thrilled before.
Alas! when first his mother clasped
That long-loved, lovely, only child—
When, in his young delight, he grasped
Her guiding hand, and fondly smiled,
And caught from her each look he wore,
And turned to her from every foe,
While she saw charms, unknown before,
In his cheek's bloom and eye's rich glow:
That long-loved, lovely, only child—
When, in his young delight, he grasped
Her guiding hand, and fondly smiled,
And caught from her each look he wore,
And turned to her from every foe,
While she saw charms, unknown before,
In his cheek's bloom and eye's rich glow:
And felt her heart's warm current flow
With love beyond man's thought, and rise
With each unfolding want and wo,
Like brightning stars o'er midnight skies—
This hour's last anguish, this despair,
Would to her soul have been a dream
As wild, as false, as madmen's are—
Shadows of shades on life's bright stream!
With love beyond man's thought, and rise
With each unfolding want and wo,
Like brightning stars o'er midnight skies—
This hour's last anguish, this despair,
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As wild, as false, as madmen's are—
Shadows of shades on life's bright stream!
How sad would be our lot below,
Were gathering woes to man revealed,
Or could we read time's scroll, and know
The secret sorrows for us sealed!
Each fearful hour still hurrying on
To consummate some awful deed,
Each thought bent on the moments gone,
To bring the day of doom decreed!
Were gathering woes to man revealed,
Or could we read time's scroll, and know
The secret sorrows for us sealed!
Each fearful hour still hurrying on
To consummate some awful deed,
Each thought bent on the moments gone,
To bring the day of doom decreed!
Fate's last, worst vial has been poured,—
Earth cannot bring a grief like this;
All that the world-sick heart adored,
All that it treasured for its bliss—
All the soul worshipped when it rose
Upon the world like morn's first star,
Hath faded, ere the daylight's close,
In desert lands and climes afar.
Earth cannot bring a grief like this;
All that the world-sick heart adored,
All that it treasured for its bliss—
All the soul worshipped when it rose
Upon the world like morn's first star,
Hath faded, ere the daylight's close,
In desert lands and climes afar.
Wake—wake her not to conscious pain!
The fount is full—oh! let is rest!
Joy cannot smile on her again,
But dreams may tell her she is blest.
Break not the spell, whose soothing power
Throws pleasures past o'er present woes,
And bears from young love's vesper bower
Light to illume life's darkest close.
The fount is full—oh! let is rest!
Joy cannot smile on her again,
But dreams may tell her she is blest.
Break not the spell, whose soothing power
Throws pleasures past o'er present woes,
And bears from young love's vesper bower
Light to illume life's darkest close.
| The heir of the world, and lesser poems | |