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The vision of Cortes, Cain, and other poems

Simms, William Gilmore (1806-1870)

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[section]
  
[dedication]
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THE VISION OF CORTES.
  
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 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
 4. 
IV.
 5. 
V.
 6. 
VI.
 7. 
VII.
 8. 
VIII.
 9. 
IX.
 10. 
X.
 12. 
XII.
 13. 
XIII.
 14. 
XIV.
 15. 
XV.
 16. 
XVI.
 17. 
XVII.
 18. 
XVIII.
 19. 
XIX.
 20. 
XX.
 21. 
XXI.
 22. 
XXII.
 23. 
XXIII.
 24. 
XXIV.
 25. 
XXV.
 26. 
XXVI.
 27. 
XXVII.
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XXVIII.
 29. 
XXIX.
 30. 
XXX.
 31. 
XXXI.
 32. 
XXXII.
 33. 
XXXIII.
  
CAIN.
  
ASHLEY RIVER.
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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
  
THE STARS.
  
STANZAS TO IDA.
  
DIRGE OF THE LEAVES.
  
THE LAST LEAF.
  
STANZAS TO IDA.
  
TO THE SAME.
  
TO THE SAME.
  
STANZAS.
  
TO THYRZA.
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SONNETS.
  
[Come down, ye dark brow'd ministers of thought]
  
[Can I not lay me down, at once, and die?]
  
[Thou wilt remark my fate, when I am dead]
  
[Ambition owns no friend—yet be thou mine]
  
[To-morrow, I shall have no charge in life]
  
[The barque is ready, for your carriage hence]
  
[Ay, I have heard enough]
  
[Last night, the moon shone suddenly in streams]
  
[It was a picture of much loveliness]
  
[My child, my beautiful child, when I am gone]
  
[I saw it in my dream. O! could I task]
  
[Thou hast enamor'd me of woodland scenes]
  
[Ah! me, that sleeping, like Endymion]
  
[Moonlight is down among the pleasant hills]
  
[Sweetness, and gamesome images, surround]
  
[Come, sit thee down beside me—I would rest]
  
[The spirits that do dress the flow'rs with dew]
  
[I think, good shepherd, you did dream of this]
  
FAREWELL TO IDA.

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[Sweetness, and gamesome images, surround]

Sweetness, and gamesome images, surround
Thy rest, young pilgrim!—pleasant breezes come,
And bear the odors of the blossoming ground,
And flap their wings above thy cheek's rich bloom!
And, O! that life may glide away with thee,
In infantile enjoyments!—while I pray,
Above thy baby-couch, that thou may'st be
Guarded by angels, innocent as they,
I would deny thee all the hopes that crowd
O'er childhood's pranking hours. Thou should'st not dream
Of aught in store, where childhood could be proud—
143

Nor, should deceitful fancy lend one beam,
To dazzle thee in the far coming years,
When life may be all bitterness and tears.
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