 | The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard |  |
197
MALIBRAN IS DEAD.
Oh Music, Passion, Truth!
Oh Love, and Hope, and Youth!
What sudden shadows are around ye clinging!
Unstrung is Nature's lute,
For Malibran is mute,
While yet the air is with her sweet voice ringing.
Oh Love, and Hope, and Youth!
What sudden shadows are around ye clinging!
Unstrung is Nature's lute,
For Malibran is mute,
While yet the air is with her sweet voice ringing.
These echoes of the past,
Ah! will they be the last,
These echoes of her death-notes upward rising!
Sounds charming every sense
With sweetness so intense,
Are they to end in silence more surprising?
Ah! will they be the last,
These echoes of her death-notes upward rising!
Sounds charming every sense
With sweetness so intense,
Are they to end in silence more surprising?
Oh, God! that life should float
On many a golden note,
When the sweet singer's lips have changed to ashes!
That we should see (as now
I see her fine pale brow)
Things that have passed away like lightning-flashes.
On many a golden note,
When the sweet singer's lips have changed to ashes!
That we should see (as now
I see her fine pale brow)
Things that have passed away like lightning-flashes.
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We doubt the cruel ill
And see and hear her still
Who made the very heart leap up delighted;
But soon the instinctive tear
Betrays the spirit's fear,
And the sick heart sinks back again affrighted.
And see and hear her still
Who made the very heart leap up delighted;
But soon the instinctive tear
Betrays the spirit's fear,
And the sick heart sinks back again affrighted.
And tear shall follow tear,
Low wailing meet the ear,
Deep sudden awe chill many an eager city;
And natures wild and rude,
By grateful thoughts subdued,
Melt into songs of praise, or sighs of pity.
Low wailing meet the ear,
Deep sudden awe chill many an eager city;
And natures wild and rude,
By grateful thoughts subdued,
Melt into songs of praise, or sighs of pity.
But love shall have an end
And tears no more descend,
Ere man shall look on a diviner creature;
More free to give delight,
More star-like to our sight,
Of soul more rapt, or of more radiant feature.
And tears no more descend,
Ere man shall look on a diviner creature;
More free to give delight,
More star-like to our sight,
Of soul more rapt, or of more radiant feature.
Oh never, never more
Will Nature's self restore
The treasure vanished like a star swift falling,
Down to the deep it goes
In hushed and dark repose,
Leaving the wondering gazer vainly calling.
Will Nature's self restore
The treasure vanished like a star swift falling,
Down to the deep it goes
In hushed and dark repose,
Leaving the wondering gazer vainly calling.
Yes, all that world of life,
Of passion and wild strife,
The strife of soul, the ecstasy of feeling;
That mind which held the mirth
Of Eden more than earth—
That world of life the grave is now concealing.
Of passion and wild strife,
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That mind which held the mirth
Of Eden more than earth—
That world of life the grave is now concealing.
Yet no; for of that eye
The true light cannot die;
And of that lip no passing smile can perish!
Oh! not a nameless grace
Of intellect or face,
But magic Genius makes the memory cherish.
The true light cannot die;
And of that lip no passing smile can perish!
Oh! not a nameless grace
Of intellect or face,
But magic Genius makes the memory cherish.
Her voice, Love's unseen lute,
Oh! say it is not mute;
Still, still within us is its music ringing;
Long may we hear in her
Our heart's interpreter,
Long hoard the marvels of her matchless singing.
Oh! say it is not mute;
Still, still within us is its music ringing;
Long may we hear in her
Our heart's interpreter,
Long hoard the marvels of her matchless singing.
1836.
| The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard | |