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Hours at Naples, and Other Poems

By the Lady E. Stuart Wortley
Stuart-Wortley, Emmeline (1806-1855)
 
[dedication]

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LINES WRITTEN AT NAPLES.
 
LINES ON MORNING.
 
LINES ON A FINE PROSPECT AT NAPLES.
 
QUEEN JOANNA'S RUINED PALACE AT NAPLES.
 
INDIAN SONG OF FESTIVAL.
 
THE SONG OF THE WANDERING TROUBADOUR.
 
THE WANDERER'S RETURN.
 
A MOUNTAINOUS VIEW.
 
A CHINESE LOVE SONG.
 
AN EASTERN NIGHT.
 
REMEMBER ME! REMEMBER ME!
 
ON THE LATE QUEEN OF PRUSSIA.
 
SONG.
 
THE LOVER'S DEBT.
 
MY HEAVENLY COUNTRY.
 
THE OLDEN TIMES.
 
OH! THEY WHOSE LIFE.
 
HOPE.
 
THE FIRST VIOLET.
 
TO THE VIOLET AT NAPLES.
 
THE FELON'S GRAVE.
 
THE GEORGIAN SULTANA.
 
SONG.
 
ON A PICTURE OF THE INFANT SAVIOUR.
 
A MEMORY'S MEMORY.
 
LOVE AND FREEDOM.
 
OH! HOW AT TIMES.
 
SUNSHINE AND MOONLIGHT.
 
SOLITUDE.
 
THE DELIGHTS OF IMAGINATION.
 
THE HAPPY LAND OF DREAMS.
 
DEATH AND INFANCY.
 
SWEET BOWER!
 
WAKING DREAMS.
 
THE MOURNFUL GUEST.
 
THE TWILIGHT TIME.
 
AH, ME! HOW MUCH I PITY THOSE.
 
I TURN TO THEE.
 
THE CHERISHED LOT.
 
THOUGHTS ON OTHER WORLDS.
 
PITY AND LOVE.
 
IF GENTLEST SUFFERANCE.
 
HOPE!
 
THE LOVELY LAND.
 
A SWEET VOICE.
 
FAITHFUL LOVE.
 
THE DEER OF THE FOREST.
 
MINSTREL FAME.
 
ONCE! ONCE!
 
HAUNTS OF MY CHILDHOOD.
 
A FAIR SPOT.
 
COLD WORLD!
 
LIFE'S FIRST GRIEF.
 
I WOULD FORGET!
 
I HAVE ADMIRED THROUGH CIRCLING HOURS.
 
WHEN HEARTS THAT LOVED.
 
SONG.
 
THE WITHERED REED.
 
STRANGE IS THE POWER.
 
ONCE FROM GAY FOLLY'S PATHS.
 
EVENING THOUGHTS.
 
MORNING THOUGHTS.
 
A MORNING WALK.
 
AN EVENING WALK.
 
LINES.
 
SONNET
 
SONNET
 
STANZAS.
 
STANZAS.
 
THE HEART.
 
HOPE, THOU ART GONE.
 
IN THE SWEET SEASONS.
 
MANUEL TO INEZ.
 
THE LOVELY SONG.
 
ART THOU CONTENT?
 
WHY HAVE THEY TOLD ME THIS?
 
THOU TELL'ST ME.
 
LOVE'S SLAVERY.
 
A CHANGEFUL LOT.
 
MANUEL'S COMPLAINT.
 
THE CAPRICE OF SORROW.
 
THE SECRET OF THE SOUL.
 
YEARS FLEET AWAY.
 
SONNET
 
STANZAS.
 
IT SHALL NOT BE.
 
SUMMER.
 
I LOOK FOR THEE.

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317

THE SECRET OF THE SOUL.

The Secret of my Soul, Beloved! thou hast—
Is that rich Secret precious unto thee?
Or do I vainly, madly, weakly, waste
My thoughts on one who little thinks on me?
Ah! since thou hast the Secret of my Soul,
Give me at least one passing thought of thine—
Since thou art Sovereign of my Being's whole,
Let something of thy Spirit's love be mine!
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