 | Lyrical and other poems |  |
TO --- ON LEAVING HOME.
That sun, which sinks with glorious train,
Beneath the dark blue sea,
Shall hail me, when he soars again,
Far distant, love, from thee:
Yet rising o'er the gray-haired east,
I'll think to me he bears,
A tribute from thy heaving breast,
Affection's gift—of tears.
Beneath the dark blue sea,
Shall hail me, when he soars again,
Far distant, love, from thee:
Yet rising o'er the gray-haired east,
I'll think to me he bears,
A tribute from thy heaving breast,
Affection's gift—of tears.
He gilds yon mountain with his ray,
And nature smiles with glee,
But yet, however bright the day,
It brings not joy to me.
More welcome is the lonely dirge,
That o'er this waste of sea,
Comes reeking up with mountain surge,
For it tells my heart of thee!
And nature smiles with glee,
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It brings not joy to me.
More welcome is the lonely dirge,
That o'er this waste of sea,
Comes reeking up with mountain surge,
For it tells my heart of thee!
Now is the sea-bird's wailing note,
Upon the waters breaking;
And, sad the tempest's echoes float,
Perchance my requiem shrieking!
Yes, the same wave that now we hear,
With solemn music blending,
May howl my dirge upon thine ear,
My love, and madness ending.
Upon the waters breaking;
And, sad the tempest's echoes float,
Perchance my requiem shrieking!
Yes, the same wave that now we hear,
With solemn music blending,
May howl my dirge upon thine ear,
My love, and madness ending.
Then, thou may'st shed a tear for him,
Whose early life was sadness,
And bid for once the eye be dim,
That ever shone with gladness.
On him, whose love would ev'n restrain,
The sorrows that deplore him,
And bid thee gladly smile again,
As now thou smilest o'er him.
Whose early life was sadness,
And bid for once the eye be dim,
That ever shone with gladness.
On him, whose love would ev'n restrain,
The sorrows that deplore him,
And bid thee gladly smile again,
As now thou smilest o'er him.
Oh! vain the dream that fondly sees,
Borne bright on fancy's pinion,
Soft colorings fresh and fair, as these,
In gentler hope's dominion:
And vain the solace, that would tell,
Tho' time and space divide us,
Of scenes and joys remember'd well,
And forms long loved, beside us.
Borne bright on fancy's pinion,
Soft colorings fresh and fair, as these,
In gentler hope's dominion:
And vain the solace, that would tell,
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Of scenes and joys remember'd well,
And forms long loved, beside us.
Yet tho' the soothing dream be vain,
Of future joys at meeting—
Of early bliss renew'd again,
And early bosoms beating;
Yet, shall the bird of other days,
From memory's lab'rinth wander,
And glad the Pilgrim's devious ways,
With vision's brighter, fonder?
Of future joys at meeting—
Of early bliss renew'd again,
And early bosoms beating;
Yet, shall the bird of other days,
From memory's lab'rinth wander,
And glad the Pilgrim's devious ways,
With vision's brighter, fonder?
No more it sings of present themes,
That mellowed note of sorrow,
Has waked the wanderer from his dreams,
To meet a joyless morrow.
Thy world, thy home is gay and bright—
But his—does fancy roving
Pourtray—that wanderer to thy sight
As once, still truly, loving.
That mellowed note of sorrow,
Has waked the wanderer from his dreams,
To meet a joyless morrow.
Thy world, thy home is gay and bright—
But his—does fancy roving
Pourtray—that wanderer to thy sight
As once, still truly, loving.
Yes, thou wilt watch that sun's last tint,
As in the west declining,
Thou see'st him leave his latest print,
On rocks where I'm repining.
And think, and dream of coming days,
When we may see it, streaming
Its beacon watch-fire, on our gaze
In warmer lustre gleaming.
As in the west declining,
Thou see'st him leave his latest print,
On rocks where I'm repining.
And think, and dream of coming days,
When we may see it, streaming
Its beacon watch-fire, on our gaze
In warmer lustre gleaming.
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Farewel! my native earth, thou sky
Where memory still remaining,
Looks up to, tho' afar, I fly—
Each varied tint, retaining.
Farewel! the scenes of early youth,
Those trelliced, wild-wood bow'rs,
Where Passion breath'd his vow of truth,
And feeling heard on flow'rs.
Where memory still remaining,
Looks up to, tho' afar, I fly—
Each varied tint, retaining.
Farewel! the scenes of early youth,
Those trelliced, wild-wood bow'rs,
Where Passion breath'd his vow of truth,
And feeling heard on flow'rs.
Farewel! the home, that time endears,
Where blest contentment found me,
Nursed in the arms of laughing years
With spring-flow'rs blooming round me.
Farewel, dear maid! the last I place,
Upon this parting token!
This song, may be the last I trace,
This look—the last upon thy face—
These words—the latest spoken.
Where blest contentment found me,
Nursed in the arms of laughing years
With spring-flow'rs blooming round me.
Farewel, dear maid! the last I place,
Upon this parting token!
This song, may be the last I trace,
This look—the last upon thy face—
These words—the latest spoken.
Lost in the varying whirl of fate,
Far distant, sadly ranging,
Fond memory shall those dreams create,
That tell my bosom, soon or late,
'Twill meet with thine, unchanging.
Farewel! be happy, whilst thou may—
Yet, if some dream shall tell thee,
The Pilgrim died, afar, away,
Thy heart will tremble, and thou'lt say—
As feeling may impel thee.
Far distant, sadly ranging,
Fond memory shall those dreams create,
That tell my bosom, soon or late,
'Twill meet with thine, unchanging.
Farewel! be happy, whilst thou may—
Yet, if some dream shall tell thee,
The Pilgrim died, afar, away,
Thy heart will tremble, and thou'lt say—
As feeling may impel thee.
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