Ballads for the Times (Now first collected,) Geraldine, A Modern Pyramid, Bartenus, A Thousand Lines, and other poems. By Martin F. Tupper. A new Edition, enlarged and revised |
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Reuisiting Charterhouse,
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 | Ballads for the Times |  |
119
Reuisiting Charterhouse,
“After Long Years.”
Dec. 12, 1848.
A shadow, a vapour, a tale that is told,—
Ah! where is the figure so true
As justly to picture my bygones of old
Uprising in dreamy review?
Those dim recollections, sepulchral and cold,
The ancient obscured by the new,
As over these hill-tops are mistily roll'd
Those ghost-looking columns of dew!
Ah! where is the figure so true
As justly to picture my bygones of old
Uprising in dreamy review?
Those dim recollections, sepulchral and cold,
The ancient obscured by the new,
As over these hill-tops are mistily roll'd
Those ghost-looking columns of dew!
I went to the place that had known me of yore,
To see its familiar face;
And mournfully stood,—for it knew me no more;
All strange did I stand in that place!
And it seem'd as if Hadës had render'd its dead
When, less by the sight than the sound,
At the hint of a voice, in a snow-sprinkled head
Some school-fellow's features I found.
To see its familiar face;
And mournfully stood,—for it knew me no more;
All strange did I stand in that place!
And it seem'd as if Hadës had render'd its dead
When, less by the sight than the sound,
At the hint of a voice, in a snow-sprinkled head
Some school-fellow's features I found.
O changes in feeling, O chances of life!
O mercies, and perils, and fears!
What ages of trial, and travail, and strife
Have sped since those holiday years!
In half-drowning vision, as seen in a glass,
On a sudden the sorrows and joys
Of twenty long winters all hurriedly pass,
And, look! for once more we are boys.
O mercies, and perils, and fears!
What ages of trial, and travail, and strife
Have sped since those holiday years!
In half-drowning vision, as seen in a glass,
On a sudden the sorrows and joys
Of twenty long winters all hurriedly pass,
And, look! for once more we are boys.
120
Yet here, like the remnant of some gallant crew
Just snatch'd from the deep in the dark,
We gaze on each other, a storm-batter'd few
Adrift on a perilous bark!
And mournful as Life, and mysterious as Death,
Our commonplace converse is heard,
For we feel as we speak that we live in a breath,
And haply might die in a word!
Just snatch'd from the deep in the dark,
We gaze on each other, a storm-batter'd few
Adrift on a perilous bark!
And mournful as Life, and mysterious as Death,
Our commonplace converse is heard,
For we feel as we speak that we live in a breath,
And haply might die in a word!
And feelings are fickle,—and riches have wings,
And nothing is steady or sure,
And even affections are changeable things,
And—where can a heart be secure?
Ah! clouded and dreary and solemn and still,
And as by some nightmare opprest,—
Come, heart! break away from this choke and this chill,
In God and thyself ever blest!
And nothing is steady or sure,
And even affections are changeable things,
And—where can a heart be secure?
Ah! clouded and dreary and solemn and still,
And as by some nightmare opprest,—
Come, heart! break away from this choke and this chill,
In God and thyself ever blest!
| Ballads for the Times | |