 | The path of sorrow, or, the lament of youth |  |
THE MINSTREL'S VALEDICTORY.
------ He passed
From out the massy gate of that old hall,
And mounting on his steed, he went his way,
And ne'er repassed that hoary threshold more.—
Byron.
From out the massy gate of that old hall,
And mounting on his steed, he went his way,
And ne'er repassed that hoary threshold more.—
Byron.
I.
'Twere vain to sigh—'twere vain to shed such tears!37
'Twere vain to swim in earthly doubts and fears,
When lost to weal—without a friend's relief;
'Tis strange I can't forget my native place—
'Tis passing strange such memory will not die!
'Tis wretched strange I wish that fond embrace—
My own maternal love, which makes me sigh!
And urge my soul upon her love rely.
II.
'Twere vain to shed such mighty draughts of tears!'Twere more than vain to humbly heave and sigh!
'Twere cruel that such mighty grief appears—
When not a single cheek shall e'er be dry.
The heart alone, can speak a social truth!
The soul acknowledge such a contrite woe!
The wither'd cheek can speak of blasted youth!
What mortals suffer in this vale below;
And none, but mortal man, can ever know.
III.
'Twere past the words of finite man to tell—'Twere vain to task the pen, or flattering tongue!
Inquire its mighty worth, from this farewell!
And ask what gloom invests the youth I sing—
'Twere past the plenitude of mortal man—
'Twere vain to perorate a theme like this;
'Twere vain to trace the river where it ran,—
They inundate the cheek they used to kiss—
A coronet of love beset with bliss.
IV.
Farewell! ye friends who knew my youthful heart,Must now remember how it bled for her—
When I was forced by friends, from her to part!
In embryo of joys and life, so dear.
You know I loved her as as I loved my soul,
And would have died within her lovely arms,—
Which cause such tempests o'er my heart to roll,
And chain me, as a victim, to her charms—
Yea, fill my bosom with such vast alarms!
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V.
Farewell! you know they tore her from my home,And rent the cord which bound her to my heart!
Ye know I wept for her, while all alone,
And now am forced to go,—and must depart
To some remote and foreign land of case,
Where nought but recollections of her love,
Shall e'er disturb my days and nights of peace;
And whisper in my wantoned ear, remove!—
Until the hands of death point thee above.
VI.
Farewell! you know my enemies, so vile—Who triumphed o'er my love without reserve!—
May fall in sorrow, when they wish to smile,
As they have caused me oft to do; and serve,
By impulse of the heart—the matron dear,
Who was my idol, and my dearest boon;—
Who caused me oft to shed the briny tear!
Which came from out my wounded heart, too soon;
And left me, as an exile, in its gloom!
VII.
Farewell! you know, when young, I smiled in joy,And feared no bitter draught or thorny wild;
But calumny and grief soon reached the boy,
When he was but his mother's darling child;
And what I feel, and recognize in grief,
I prematurely gathered from the world!—
And no elixir can e'er give relief;
And, from my presence, have the impulse hurled,—
Which binds my passions to this thorny world!
VIII.
Farewell! you know, in midst of bliss, a frostCame from a cloud of ills, and nipped my root;
And like a bark by raging tempests tost,
It withered all my blossoms, and my nectared, fruit!
The bay-tree green, and ivy's running vine,
Became befrosted by the heavy dew;
And that sweet bud I plucked, and thought was mine,
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In whose hard heart no sympathies e'er grew.
IX.
Farewell! you all must know the pointed dart,With which they sever'd that connubial tie,
Must shortly pierce that ever cursed heart!
On whose feigned smile, I did, in truth rely,
And that foul cup of gall, they filled for me,
Must shortly slake the thirst of all my foes!
Which shall emancipate, and set me free
From all my sorrows, and my mental throes;
And soothe the pang, which caused my many woes.
X.
Farewell! you know the venomed tongue of strife,Which quivered on my name with hellish fire,—
Amidst my joys, and scenes of youthful life,
Must falter in the midst of baneful ire!
And that foul fiend, of putrid heart, so vile,
Who sapped the fountain head of all my joy,
Must calm the perturbations of her guile;
And fill her laden bark with vile alloy;
Which plough such furrows with its keeling dart!
And bid vexation from my soul depart.
XI.
Farewell! my argument befits such songAs this—that I may tell thee, but the truth—
That they have censured me, too often, wrong,
When I lived with my boon, in midst of youth.
Yes, they have gratified their ire on me,
By heaping dust and ashes on my head!
And raining calumny and misery
Upon the down, of my hymeneal bed—
Which filled my plighted partner with such dread.
XII.
Farewell! 'tis right that I should let you know,My love is centered in my youthful heart;
And now, my innocence detects my woe!
And bids me tell it you, before we part;
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Which binds me, with such ties, to my own land;
Since I, in consciousness of life and birth,
Received the blessings from my mother's hands;
And tried to follow her beloved commands!
XIII.
Farewell! though reft of all to me, so dear,And torn from weal, and all my youthful glee!
When I remain forlorn, with friendship's tear!
Above the mountain of my soul, I see
Some future blessings, such as soothe my pangs,—
Invite my thought beyond the dark blue sea,
While hope's strong anchor in my heart string hangs—
Await my call, and friendly bidding me
Partake of bliss, and smile, and then be free.
XIV.
Farewell! and could I wake the heavenly lyre,To calm the ocean of my youthful soul,
And set the apex of my heart on fire,—
I'd do it; and I'd stop the tide that rolls,
With such vehemence, as Olympic seas,
And calm the perturbations of my heart;
And set the laden bark of wo at ease;
Which plough such furrows with its keeling dart!
And bid vexation from my soul depart.
XV.
Farewell! could I inspire my song, to tellYou of the heights and depths of all my love—
When I should sing, to bid you all farewell!
I'd lure a note from Judah's lyre above.
Oh! could I thus awake my inmost sight,
To bask on themes sufficient for my song,
I'd tell you how they stole my heart's delight:
And how they treated me with so much wrong—
But more than all, how they did it so long.
XVI.
Farewell! I'd try, one briny tear to save,And in sincerity would ask, if right—
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The seraph of my heart and soul's delight!
And should they tear it from its native home!
Rejoicing in the thought it rends my heart!
And leave it fatherless, alone, alone!—
Which forces me, with tears, to write, in part,
And tell you what is graven on my youthful heart.
XVII.
Farewell! and may these lines of grief suffice—As assignations, such as now appear—
Not in my countenance, but in these eyes,
Which drop the vesper dew, affection's tear!
Farewell! a long farewell—a long adieu!
To that apostacy—from my fond heart!—
And Oh! that she, and all my friends, but know,
How hard it is for me, with them, to part!
And all I ask or wish, as friendship's chart,
Great, briny drops,—proceeding from the heart.
XVIII.
Farewell! ye friends who loved me in my youth!We soon shall part, and ne'er shall meet again;
Yes, from the home of friendship, love and truth,
I go—perhaps, across the raging main.
So, fare thee well! and if I have a soul,
And sense of love—I doubly owe to thee,—
I feel the vast olympic o'er me roll,
From which my bosom's lord can ne'er be free;
Which makes me speak of those, so dear to me!
XIX.
Oh! may I give thee such an argumentFor song—proceeding from my wounded heart—
That I may tell thee of a youth's lament,
When he is forced from dearest friends to part!
And, Oh! if I could lure a tone from lyre
On high, I'd raise my voice above the sky;
And burn your souls with that Eternal fire,
Which caused me, in the days of youth, to sigh;
And force me, on my harp and thee, rely.
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XX.
Oh! could I wake thy latent fires of love,And rouse the dormant ties within thy heart,—
I'd wake the echoes of thy fond desires,
And tell thee how to feel, when forced to part
From friends—the boon, and idol of thy soul,
Who, thus apostatized and left me sore;
And now, my only guerdon, while I roll
Abroad, is pain, to wound me even more,—
Far from my native land—my native shore.
XXI.
A long adieu! to those who heard me tell,The only guerdon I could boast, were tears—
For that unkindness which I bid farewell!
The fountain of my youthful hopes and fears.
Had I the voice of Judah's Lyre, of old,
I'd wake the dirge beneath the ocean's moan!
And fire the embers of those hearts, so cold,
To heave the bosom with a sigh and groan!
For this fond youth, forced from his native home.
XXII.
Ye joyous youths! who boast of friendship's clime,Exempt from ills, which now invite my song—
Behold! my sorrows predicate no crime;
Which makes me touch the lyre to tell of wrongs,
Which now ingulf the blossom of my heart—
And importune no laureate, svae those looks
Of orient youth, to roll as I depart,
From Carmel of my home, and native flock;
And ne'er return—which makes me feel the shock!
XXIII.
Oh! could I wake the echo of the rolling deep,And lure a tone from cave or ancient vault—
I'd force the chambers of your heart to weep—
At such a crime, where I was not in fault;
I'd tell of fond embracings of the heart,
And hours of youthful musing to my soul
So dear—and fill your eyes, as I depart—
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The purest tears, from ocean of the soul!
XXIV.
Dear friends!—if friends I dare to call, that child—That offspring to my soul—that pilgrim dear,
Which she forbade me see—upon a wild—
Far from my sight—now makes me shed the tear,
Which often trickles down my furrowed cheek!
But, this remember!—as I live or die!
That promise of extatic years, so meek,
Shall on a lover's care and truth rely;
And ne'er, from me, have cause to weep or sigh!
XXV.
Farewell! ye groves and hillocks, dales and brooks,And evergreens, which stood before my view—
Which caught, in morn of life, my youthful looks—
I bid you all farewell! a long adieu!
And grottoes, glens, and rills, and chequered wild;
And thou, my boon, and brightest, polar star;
My father, mother dear, who loves the child,
Who wanders from his native home, afar!
Farewell! I welter in eternal care!
XXVI.
Farewell! if I could pulverize my heart,And urge the purple stream of life along,—
I'd mix it as my ink—before we part—
With cordial of my soul, and write my song;
I'd wake the echos of eternity!
And change the flora of your heart, like smock
Of death!—I'd then resume my minstrelsy,—
And grave my vows upon a flinty rock—
With iron pen—that you might feel the shock.
XXVII.
Immortal Harp! like Judah's Lyre of old,Which woke the buried sound of Jordan's stream;
And like a wave o'er land of Canaan rolled,
Through dark Engedi's cave, or moonlight gleam,—
Invite my song!—be eloquent my heart!
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Resume thy carmen, as we thus depart;
And wilt thou come, dear friend! where I must go?
Far from my native land—my home?—ah! no.
XXVIII.
Then, fare thee well! and mother, father, too;—And she, who reft me of my youthful joy;
And, dearer far, than all, besides untrue—
To husband of her youth—the weeping boy—
The boy, now lost to pleasures of the world!
Who felt the dews, the chilling dews and frost,
Which nipped his bud of life, and rudely hurled
Him in the vortex deep, of woe! till lost
In whirlpool of despair, near sorrow's coast.
XXIX.
Farewell! again, farewell! and this the last!Sad words they are, to flow from cup of bane!
The rain is o'er—the winter now is past!
And ne'er shall shower on my head again.
Bruised in the sympathies of life, so dear,
I now resign my boon with pain and grief!
To her own will—although, to me, so near;
And on the heart which none can give relief,
I'll pour the balm, which now in floods appear—
Affection's test—the cordial of the soul—the tear!
| The path of sorrow, or, the lament of youth | |