 | The Pleasures and other Miscellaneous Poems |  |
THE LAMENT FOR THE SLANDERED LOVED ONE.
I weep for thee! I weep for thee!
I weep for thee, my lovely one;
I weep for thee! I weep for thee!
I weep for thee, my injur'd one!
I weep for thee, my lovely one;
I weep for thee! I weep for thee!
I weep for thee, my injur'd one!
How keen the pangs that rend my heart!
How deep the grief that swells my soul!
O say! from thee shall I depart?
Thy lovely form no more behold?
How deep the grief that swells my soul!
O say! from thee shall I depart?
Thy lovely form no more behold?
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Though duty calls me far away,
To mingle with the high and low—
'Midst matrons grave, and maidens gay,
Where wealth a thousand gifts bestow.
To mingle with the high and low—
'Midst matrons grave, and maidens gay,
Where wealth a thousand gifts bestow.
As doth the dove, whose helpless mate
Lies pierc'd and dying on the ground,
In speechless grief deplore her fate,
Or pour his mournful strains around;
Lies pierc'd and dying on the ground,
In speechless grief deplore her fate,
Or pour his mournful strains around;
When morn shall veil the milky-way,
O lov'd one, I will weep for thee!
Or when night shuts the eye of day,
I'll sadly sit, and grieve for thee!
O lov'd one, I will weep for thee!
Or when night shuts the eye of day,
I'll sadly sit, and grieve for thee!
They tell me that thy footsteps stray
Where guilt her crimson shadows fling,
They say meand'ring is thy way,
Thy heart is not a spotless thing!
Where guilt her crimson shadows fling,
They say meand'ring is thy way,
Thy heart is not a spotless thing!
Can this be true? Ye angels, tell!
That guard a Virgin's priceless heart—
With doubts and hopes this bosom swell,
O tell me ere I hence depart!
That guard a Virgin's priceless heart—
With doubts and hopes this bosom swell,
O tell me ere I hence depart!
Dark be the day! accurs'd the hour!
When woman from her throne descends;
That throne is virtue—'tis her power!
Her hope of bliss on this depends.
When woman from her throne descends;
That throne is virtue—'tis her power!
Her hope of bliss on this depends.
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But has not injur'd Virtue bled
Beneath the Sland'rer's deadly blows?
A thousand wrongs have droop'd her head!
Her heart has felt a thousand woes!
Beneath the Sland'rer's deadly blows?
A thousand wrongs have droop'd her head!
Her heart has felt a thousand woes!
O Slander! foulest imp of hell!
Thy tongue is like the scorpion's sting!
Nor peace nor hope can near thee dwell;
Thy breath can blast the fairest thing!
Thy tongue is like the scorpion's sting!
Nor peace nor hope can near thee dwell;
Thy breath can blast the fairest thing!
O could I grasp the thunder-bolt!
I'd crush thee! limping fiend of hell!
From earth I'd chase thy serpent soul,
And chain thee where the furies dwell!
I'd crush thee! limping fiend of hell!
From earth I'd chase thy serpent soul,
And chain thee where the furies dwell!
O I would weep, thou injur'd one!
If weeping could restore thy fame,
'Till darkness veil'd the setting sun,
And glory shone around thy name!
If weeping could restore thy fame,
'Till darkness veil'd the setting sun,
And glory shone around thy name!
I'll weep for thee when Beauty smiles,
And sheds her angel-charms around;
I'd weep for thee in deserts wild,
Or where the blooming fields abound;
And sheds her angel-charms around;
I'd weep for thee in deserts wild,
Or where the blooming fields abound;
Where parlors glow with virgins fair,
And joys elate each bounding heart—
Where music thrills the vocal air,
And earth her purest bliss imparts.
And joys elate each bounding heart—
Where music thrills the vocal air,
And earth her purest bliss imparts.
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I'd weep for thee, my lovely one!
As clouds do from the mourning heav'n;
In silence sad, I'd sit and mourn—
For O! to thee this heart was giv'n!
As clouds do from the mourning heav'n;
In silence sad, I'd sit and mourn—
For O! to thee this heart was giv'n!
| The Pleasures and other Miscellaneous Poems | |