 | Lays of Melpomene |  |
VIGILS.
Thou wert, my sister! sinless love! Thou art not now! Alone
I wander sadly far from scenes we loved to call our own,
And often breathe a sobbing sigh, and shed a bleeding tear,
When, mingling with the icy world, I think of blisses dear.
I wander sadly far from scenes we loved to call our own,
And often breathe a sobbing sigh, and shed a bleeding tear,
When, mingling with the icy world, I think of blisses dear.
Thou wert a sun to light my heart when sadness on it hung,
And plaintive, pure, and holy were the songs thy spirit sung;
Thy dove-like bosom throbbed with love, so gentle, deep and fond,
That still it dews my burning heart though thou art far beyond
And plaintive, pure, and holy were the songs thy spirit sung;
Thy dove-like bosom throbbed with love, so gentle, deep and fond,
That still it dews my burning heart though thou art far beyond
The scenes we trod, the groves we loved, and thy lone brother's view,
For heaven and earth are linked by love, so feeling and so true.
Sweet sainted shade! how happy had thy brother's pathway been
If thy soft smile had cheered his soul in many a gloomy scene!
For heaven and earth are linked by love, so feeling and so true.
Sweet sainted shade! how happy had thy brother's pathway been
If thy soft smile had cheered his soul in many a gloomy scene!
But thou art gone, and I am left alone upon the earth,
A cloud amid the sunny forms of life—but of their worth
Or beauty, wit or wisdom, I know nought nor wish to know,
They pass, I see them not—they speak, but know not of my woe.
A cloud amid the sunny forms of life—but of their worth
Or beauty, wit or wisdom, I know nought nor wish to know,
They pass, I see them not—they speak, but know not of my woe.
They flaunt along in robes so rich, and talk in tones so gay,
And plume their hearts so much on earth—poor insects of a day!
That I can feel no love for them, though fair and fond they be,
Since thou art gone, and I must go, to far eternity.
And plume their hearts so much on earth—poor insects of a day!
That I can feel no love for them, though fair and fond they be,
Since thou art gone, and I must go, to far eternity.
43
Oh! many a year hath fled afar, since thou wert with me, love!
And by my side did'st walk and sing along the elmy grove,
And turn thy soft blue eye to mine, and lay thy head upon
My love-lit breast and look so fond—and now I'm all alone!
And by my side did'st walk and sing along the elmy grove,
And turn thy soft blue eye to mine, and lay thy head upon
My love-lit breast and look so fond—and now I'm all alone!
The melancholy moon so dim, the attracting orb of woe,
I view and think on all thy smiles, thy tears, thy words below,
And then it seems so strange that old and soulless forms should be
Sepulchral shadows o'er the world, and thou so far from me!
I view and think on all thy smiles, thy tears, thy words below,
And then it seems so strange that old and soulless forms should be
Sepulchral shadows o'er the world, and thou so far from me!
Where art thou, sister, where? I know they tell us heaven's above,
And that it is a holy place—the scene of joy and love;
But where, oh! where is that dear spot in yon celestial sky
Thou dwell'st upon? O point it out to my long searching eye!
And that it is a holy place—the scene of joy and love;
But where, oh! where is that dear spot in yon celestial sky
Thou dwell'st upon? O point it out to my long searching eye!
And I will sit the livelong night and gaze upon that place,
Where thou dost dwell and sing of love and heaven's ethereal grace;
And I will think thou dost behold thy brother's form below,
And smil'st upon his gloomy soul, and that will soothe my woe.
Where thou dost dwell and sing of love and heaven's ethereal grace;
And I will think thou dost behold thy brother's form below,
And smil'st upon his gloomy soul, and that will soothe my woe.
Can'st thou not tell me how they live, the spirits of the sky,
And where we go and what we feel when earthly bodies die?
And wilt thou not, my sister love! when I am sad and lone,
Descend upon my brooding soul and tell me where thou'rt gone?
And where we go and what we feel when earthly bodies die?
And wilt thou not, my sister love! when I am sad and lone,
Descend upon my brooding soul and tell me where thou'rt gone?
The air's so pure that comes from heaven, the skies around so bright,
And all above so holy, it must be of dear delight
The mansion, and the place where He ascended to prepare
A palace for the wanderer—a refuge from despair.
And all above so holy, it must be of dear delight
The mansion, and the place where He ascended to prepare
A palace for the wanderer—a refuge from despair.
And thou art there, in glory, love! and I in woe am here;
And thou dost shed a radiant smile, and I a bitter tear;
But thou art happy, and I feel that while I live below,
To think that thou art free from sin, will calm my ceaseless woe!
And thou dost shed a radiant smile, and I a bitter tear;
But thou art happy, and I feel that while I live below,
To think that thou art free from sin, will calm my ceaseless woe!
| Lays of Melpomene | |