 | Lays of Leisure Hours |  |
WEEP NOT.
Weep not mine own Beloved if thou should'st hear
Of my heart-broken sigh, my burning tear,
Weep not—if others unto thee should tell
How this torn heart doth with vain anguish swell.
Of my heart-broken sigh, my burning tear,
Weep not—if others unto thee should tell
How this torn heart doth with vain anguish swell.
155
Sorrow, in sooth, is good for all below—
Pray for me, that I well may use my woe!
Pray that this stubborn heart may melt and bend,
If thou'rt indeed, Beloved! my Spirit's friend!
Pray for me, that I well may use my woe!
Pray that this stubborn heart may melt and bend,
If thou'rt indeed, Beloved! my Spirit's friend!
Sorrow is good for all on Earth, we know!
Pray that I well may use my bitter woe,
If thou indeed my Soul's true lover art—
The exalted friend of mine immortal part.
Pray that I well may use my bitter woe,
If thou indeed my Soul's true lover art—
The exalted friend of mine immortal part.
Love me, Oh! love me—as in the olden time
The stern sage loved himself—with love sublime,
No partial weakness show, no fault forgive,
Fit me to die, by teaching me to live!
The stern sage loved himself—with love sublime,
No partial weakness show, no fault forgive,
Fit me to die, by teaching me to live!
Seek not one pang to soothe, one pain to spare,
To cure one canker, or to charm one care.
No! love me with a loftier love severe,
For the Hereafter's sake esteem me here!
To cure one canker, or to charm one care.
No! love me with a loftier love severe,
For the Hereafter's sake esteem me here!
156
O'erlook my present for my future good,
And check each impulse of a tenderer mood,
Oh! wish me not one trial here the less,
Nor strive to comfort me in my distress!
And check each impulse of a tenderer mood,
Oh! wish me not one trial here the less,
Nor strive to comfort me in my distress!
But Oh! Beloved! beyond all words to show,
While thus thou seem'st to smile upon my woe,
Forbear thyself to inflict the slightest pain,
Nor give the wound thou could'st not heal again.
While thus thou seem'st to smile upon my woe,
Forbear thyself to inflict the slightest pain,
Nor give the wound thou could'st not heal again.
The wound ev'n thou might's seek in vain to cure,
From thee, from thee, could I a slight endure,
Or bear from that beloved hand a blow,
Or feel 'twas thou that mixed my cup of woe?
From thee, from thee, could I a slight endure,
Or bear from that beloved hand a blow,
Or feel 'twas thou that mixed my cup of woe?
This were too much—this last worst dire despair
Were more than Nature and than I could bear;
From this extreme of suffering and of ill
Let the poor trembler be delivered still!
Were more than Nature and than I could bear;
From this extreme of suffering and of ill
Let the poor trembler be delivered still!
157
Oh! welcome every grief and pang but this—
With this compared all other grief were bliss;
I know—I feel no pure no heavenly fruit
Could spring from such a dark and deadly root.
With this compared all other grief were bliss;
I know—I feel no pure no heavenly fruit
Could spring from such a dark and deadly root.
No! wrung and tortured, maddened and undone,
My hopes, my consolations, then were none.
A fatal recklessness, a blind despair
Were then my heavy and my hopeless share.
My hopes, my consolations, then were none.
A fatal recklessness, a blind despair
Were then my heavy and my hopeless share.
Beneath thy darkening frown, my troubled brain
Would whirl to phrenzy with th' o'erwhelming pain,
My stricken mind should be a withered scroll,
Alas! a blow from thee would kill my Soul!
Would whirl to phrenzy with th' o'erwhelming pain,
My stricken mind should be a withered scroll,
Alas! a blow from thee would kill my Soul!
Let others teach me suffering then—do thou
Teach me beneath that suffering's yoke to bow;
Let others wound with malice and with hate,
Do thou exalt my mind above its fate.
Teach me beneath that suffering's yoke to bow;
Let others wound with malice and with hate,
Do thou exalt my mind above its fate.
158
Let others fill for me the cup of wrath,
Do thou point out the straight, but steepy path,
Let others wring this heart of constant love,
Do thou the dark and gloomy hour improve.
Do thou point out the straight, but steepy path,
Let others wring this heart of constant love,
Do thou the dark and gloomy hour improve.
Then whatsoe'er my destiny below,
In midst of all my mourning and my woe,
One current of dear happiness must glide
Soft through my darkened Being's troubled tide!
In midst of all my mourning and my woe,
One current of dear happiness must glide
Soft through my darkened Being's troubled tide!
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