 | Eonchs of ruby. A Gift of Love |  |
MARY'S LAMENT FOR SHELLEY LOST AT SEA.
“Stay for me there! I will not fail
To meet thee in that hollow vale!”—
Bishop Henry King
To meet thee in that hollow vale!”—
Bishop Henry King
“Thou wilt not be consoled—I wonder not!”—
Shelley.
Shelley.
I.
I hear thy spirit calling unto meFrom out the deep,
Like Archytas from old Venetia's sea,
While I here weep!
Saying, Come, strew my body with the sand,
And bury me upon the land, the land—
Out of this sea, dear Mary! on the land, the land!
II.
Oh! never, never more! no, never more!Lost in the deep!
Will thy sweet beauty visit this dark shore,
Where I now weep!
For thou art gone forevermore from me,
Sweet Mariner! lost, murdered by the sea!
Ulysses of my soul's deep love lost in the sea!
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III.
Ever—forevermore, bright, glorious one,Drowned in the deep!
In Spring-time—Summer—Winter—all alone—
Must I here weep!
Thou spirit of my soul! thou light of life!
While thou art absent, Shelley, from thy wife!
Absent, dear Swan of Albion, from thy weeping wife!
IV.
Celestial pleasure once to contemplateThy power, great Deep!
Possest my soul! but evermore shall hate,
While I here weep!
Crowd out thy memory from my soul, oh! Sea!
For killing him who was so dear to me!
More dear than Heaven's high Lord to Mary unto me!
V.
He was the incarnation of pure Truth,Oh! mighty Deep!
And thou didst murder him in prime of youth,
For whom I weep!
And, murdering him, didst more than murder me!
Who was my Heaven on earth, oh! treacherous Sea!
My more than Heaven on earth, oh! more than murderous Sea!
VI.
My spirit wearied not to succor his,Oh! mighty Deep!
The oftener done the greater was the bliss;
But now I weep!
And where his beauty lay, unceasing pain
Now dwells—my heart can know no joy again!
Poor Doveless Ark! can know no joy on earth again!
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VII.
God of my fathers! God of that bright OneDrowned in the Deep!
Shall we not meet again beyond the sun—
No more to weep?
Yes, I shall meet him there—the lost—the bright—
The glorious Shelley! Spring of my delight!
Fountain of all my pleasure! life of my delight!
VIII.
Now, like Orion on some cloudless nightAbove the Deep,
I see his soul look down from Heaven—how bright!
While I here weep!
And there, like Hesperus the stars of even,
Beckon my soul away to him in Heaven—
Sitting, star-crowned, upon the highest still in Heaven!
| Eonchs of ruby. A Gift of Love | |