The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield ::

Oh! must it be so? Must thine image be,
Through the long lapse of all my future years,
A madness and a mockery to me,
That glows amid my heart's corroding tears?
Must we in anger part—forever part,
Without one solace for the bleeding heart?

I loved thee, maiden!—'t is no shame to own—
Deeply as loves the heart-sear'd hermit saint,
The highest, purest star that gleams alone
In the blue depths of heaven, which none may paint;
I loved thee as the bulbul loves the flower,
That blooms and breathes and withers in an hour.

E'en now I turn, and o'er the waste of years,
A broken spirit and a bruised heart, trace
The charm, the magic of thy smiles and tears,
The heaven that met me in thy soft, sweet face;
And still to thee my crushed affections rise
Like holiest incense o'er the evening skies.

When first we met and looked, and loved, the past
With all its perils vanished from my brain;
Thy form was like the Peri of the waste
Whose smile is heaven in a world of pain—
Alas! 't was but the radiance of a dream
That left me woe in its departing gleam.

316

Thy blessing was the blight of life's best hours;
Thy soft embrace the serpent's deadly wreath;
Thy kiss, a poison hid in heavenly flowers,
Thy look breathed madness and thy voice spake death.
How couldst thou rend the heart thou wouldst not kill?
Why bid me part—yet kiss and linger still?

Why fold thy snowy arms around a heart
Thy quick unkindness fill'd with utter woe?
Why to my soul elysian bliss impart,
Life's lingering anguish only to bestow?
Why bid me hope—to feel the last despair?
Point me to heaven—when hell alone was there?

O Isolina! thou wert made as fair
As Azrael, ere the withering bolt was hurled,
That pierc'd the seraph with a fiend's despair,
And drave him—dark destroyer, o'er the world!
Thou wert as lovely as that eastern flower,
Who touches, droops, and dies within an hour.

I deemed thee all the poet loves to paint—
Full of young loveliness and virgin love,
In soul an angel and in heart a saint,
Earth's fair inhabitant, but born above;
I may not think—I dare not tell thee now
What my heart murmurs o'er thy broken vow.

Hadst thou been all my trusting heart believ'd thee,
I had not loved as I do hate thee now;
Oh! hadst thou never in thy pride deceived me,
I had not blessed as I do curse the vow
My willing homage to the syren paid,
Who heard and smiled—who listened and betrayed.

Farewell! the voice of all confiding Truth
No more salutes me on my wandering way;
Farewell! the morning glory of my youth
Already darkens in Earth's troubled day;
Farewell! I loved thee as a dream of heaven—
Dissolved in darkness at the moment given.

317

We part—not as we met in other hours,
Radiant with love and rapture's magic glow,
But blighted—broken—and our passion's powers
Linked in a living web of fear and woe!
Alas! the erring of my own heart throws
Its thoughts o'er thee!—blest be thy calm repose!

Sleep, Isolina! and bright dreams be thine
Of triumph o'er a heart that throbbed and bled
Alone for thee, with passion too divine
To doubt—till love and every hope had fled;
On the dark wreck enjoy thy placid sleep,
And mayst thou never—never wake to weep!

Once more, farewell! my barque is on the main,
My native land is o'er the stormy sea;
I cannot tear from out my heart and brain
One thought to leave behind—save agony!
Farewell! may Memory in thy soul expire,
And Hope attend thee with her golden lyre.

O Thou! the present and the Past,
The Future, the Eternal Lord!
Whose every breath can bless or blast,
Teach me the council of Thy Word!

While friends forsake, and foes oppress,
And Time is veil'd in storms of gloom,
Teach me that one great happiness
That lives beyond the mouldering tomb!

My errors, faults and sins forgive!
Lighten my path and cheer my heart!
In Thee, to Thee I only live—
Thou the Supreme and Righteous art!

University of Virginia Library

TO ISOLINA.