Poems of James Clarence Mangan (Many hitherto uncollected): Centenary edition: Edited, with preface and notes by D. J. O'Donoghue: Introduction by John Mitchel |
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BEAR UP. |
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 | Poems of James Clarence Mangan |  |
BEAR UP.
Time rolleth on; and with our years
Our sorrows grow and multiply,
Our visions fade;
With late remorse and withering fears,
We look for light to days gone by;
But all is shade.
Our dear fond friends have long been gone,
No moon is up in Heaven above;
The chill winds blow.
The dolorous night of age comes on;
The current of our life and love
Moves low, moves slow.
Our sorrows grow and multiply,
Our visions fade;
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We look for light to days gone by;
But all is shade.
Our dear fond friends have long been gone,
No moon is up in Heaven above;
The chill winds blow.
The dolorous night of age comes on;
The current of our life and love
Moves low, moves slow.
Yet earth hath still a twofold dower;
On desert sands the palm trees rise
In greenest bloom;
The dawn breaks at the darkest hour;
Stars brightliest shine when midnight skies
Are palled in gloom;
The deep hath treasures unrevealed
Of gold and gems and argosies,
And gallant ships;
The sword strikes hurtless on the shield;
And from the once plague-laden breeze
Health greets thy lips!
On desert sands the palm trees rise
In greenest bloom;
The dawn breaks at the darkest hour;
Stars brightliest shine when midnight skies
Are palled in gloom;
The deep hath treasures unrevealed
Of gold and gems and argosies,
And gallant ships;
The sword strikes hurtless on the shield;
And from the once plague-laden breeze
Health greets thy lips!
Thou, therefore, man, shalt never droop,
Shalt never doubt, shalt always trust
The power of God;
Thou art not Heaven's or nature's dupe!
This fleshly hull shall rot in dust,
A trodden clod.
But wilt thou cower, tho' death draw nigh?
The mouldering frame, the eternal soul,
Which, say, is best;
Thou canst not live unless thou die,
Thou must march far to reach thy goal
Of endless rest.
Shalt never doubt, shalt always trust
The power of God;
Thou art not Heaven's or nature's dupe!
This fleshly hull shall rot in dust,
A trodden clod.
But wilt thou cower, tho' death draw nigh?
The mouldering frame, the eternal soul,
Which, say, is best;
Thou canst not live unless thou die,
Thou must march far to reach thy goal
Of endless rest.
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Bear up! even tho' thou be, like me,
Stretched on a couch of torturing pain
This weary day;
Tho' heaven and earth seem dark to thee,
And thine eye glance around in vain
For one hope-ray!
Tho' overborne by wrong and ill,
Tho' thou hast drained, even to the lees,
Life's bitter cup.
Tho' death and hell be round thee still.
Place faith in God! He hears, He sees!
Bear up! Bear up!
Stretched on a couch of torturing pain
This weary day;
Tho' heaven and earth seem dark to thee,
And thine eye glance around in vain
For one hope-ray!
Tho' overborne by wrong and ill,
Tho' thou hast drained, even to the lees,
Life's bitter cup.
Tho' death and hell be round thee still.
Place faith in God! He hears, He sees!
Bear up! Bear up!
| Poems of James Clarence Mangan | |