University of Virginia Library

The war was over; the ship
Sailed gaily towards the land;
He leaped upon the deck,
Joy-fire in his face and neck;
A tear his cheek did fleck
As he murmured softly “land,”
“Her land!” “her land!”
His colour burned high,
His look assured the sky,
Then glanced exulting scorn,
When, on that joyous morn,
Away, away, through the dazzling spray,
He sprang from the ship to the roaring sea,
And seized the waves in their savage play,
And rushed with their rush, more bright than they;
Zingalee!

A myriad eager men,
Thronging the harbour mound,
With flags of fights sublime,
With a myriad church-bell chime,
Hail his returning time,
And loud his victory sound:
Bare-limbed, stand,
In dazzling band,
The noblest ladies of the land,
Gracing his car;—
Their white breasts bend, their arms ascend,
And their eyes extend, towards his ship afar:—
And there gentlest musics, and softest voicings,
O'erpower the sense with intense rejoicings:—
But away, away, from this proud array,
In lonely delight to his bride bounds he;
No lady-abandonment wins him to stay;
He recked nought of power, or of glory that day;
Zingalee!

He has leaped from the brine;
His visage smiles divine;
The flashings of its light,
Change, change, more bright, more bright,
As dawn upon his sight,
Remembered things that sign
Her shrine!
'Twas here farewells were dreaded,
'Twas here farewells were spoken,
And here farewells were hushed,—
Here anew wild they wedded,
Here gave they the love token,
And here the last grief gushed,
At their parting time!
And now to acclime
His gasping life to the heaven it nears,
Here he takes the love token she gave with tears,—
Her pictured self, as o'er him she hung,
When her love from her loveliness all veil flung,
“Drawn by herself,” so its jewels tell,
“For one whom none other can love so well:”
And calmed is his face, bliss-ful are his eyes,
While over the picture low murmureth he,
With voice, whose deep love signeth sweet self surprise,
“Was I ever away from this paradise?”
Zingalee!

And, bright with the glowing repose,
Of one long dwelled in heaven,
To whom assurance great,
Of the unchanging fate,
Binding his blissful state,
Suddenly has been given,—
He passeth the garden where nestles her home;
And fondly he noteth the roses, like foam
Flecking the greenery round;
The birds softly warbling; the breeze waving treen;
The atmosphere sunny; the heaven serene;
And the sea's distant sound:
Oh! he noteth them all as parts of her;
With her, through them, doth his soul confer,
For she loves them all:
He enters the mansion, with quivering frame
He glides to her chamber, soft murmuring the name
She was used him to call:
There heard he a sound,
That lovingly wound,
Wild words around;—
'Twas her voice—
And faintly it said,
“Oh! nothing I dread,
But that thou mayest be fled;
No! bid me rejoice;
Let me fly with thee even to the end of the world,
But my life must, must ever in thy life be furled,
I cannot even die, from thee parted:”
And he staggered towards the room,
And there, in voluptuous gloom,
Her breasts all naked, and heaving,
Lay his bride;
And her beside,
One like a man, around him cleaving
Her quivering limbs, while still she moaned grieving,
“I cannot even die from thee parted.”
The river of his life stood still,
Rose at its woe,
And gazed with terrible will
The abysm below:—
A wild beast he rushed to the couch where now grows
The deep stillness of love rite; back, hissing, shrank he;
One long deepening howl from his crashing life rose;
Convulsed, he fell senseless; his wrenched face froze,
Where still lingered the sound of her wanton love throes:—
Zingalee!

He is born; again he is born;
And unto his life of woe,
He awakeneth slow,
Moaning low:—
He hath no soul for scorn;
His mind nought questioneth, he is alone,
Staring past everything, unmoved as stone,
As cold.—
Over his hand hath fallen her love token;—
He seeth it, his despairing trance is broken,—
He calleth on his love, his love, his love;
Down on his knees, with clasped hands he calleth,
Upon his love, upon his love, upon his love;—
But no quick footstep to his couched ear falleth,
Only the voice-disturbed tapestries move:
He bounds to the air;
Oh! music is there,
And he gnashes his teeth, and teareth bare
His bosom, and grovelleth on the ground
His naked flesh, and howleth around:—
He flies to the jessamine bower, where first
On one golden eve his passion outburst;
Fair, fair to his thought that heaven-time glows,—
There oft in her arms did his life repose,
'Twas there, in the flush of their youthful pride,
He walked a god, and she, his bride,
Some robeless nymph, sported with flowers,
Dancing her joy through summer hours.
Still in thought he beholds her thus playfully pace,
But another burns at each naked grace;
And another seeks, with the flowers she wove,
To fetter her flight, and constrain her to love:—
The flesh flakes on his face!
His eyes roll blood-blind!
A corpse stands in his place!
Its joints knock in the wind!
And across the joyous town,
Over the pastures brown,
Beneath the sunny skies,
The gibbering thing doth flee:—
Dead on the moor it lies,
Covered with worms and flies;
Zingalee!

Why weeps Zingalee?
Words only conceal,
Thought cannot reveal,
The tortures they feel,
Who suffer as suffered he:—
But even did'st thou know,
The worst of his woe,
Still should'st thou not, Zingalee, weep;
For thy tears might cheat his soul from its rest,
To love thee still, and be still opprest;
Seeing thee love another;—
Oh! thou must not weep, thou must seem to scorn
His love, and his woe, and from morn to morn
All grief must thou smother:—
Then crown thee, then crown thee, with jewels bright,
And with joyous robes thy body bedight,
Summon thy music, illumine thy hall,
Dance and exult, like a young bacchanal,
Greet thy live lover with love's wild glee,
Zingalee!