 | Judith, Esther, and other poems |  |
MONODY on --- --- lately killed in a duel.
“Ille mi par esse deo videtur.”
Ah would the ball that laid thee low
Still in the dark earth rested!
Ere all in youth's too ardent glow,
The deadly blow was breasted.
As perfect tower'd that matchless head
As some fond sculptress formed it,
And heaven disdaining not to aid
With heaven's own life-fires warmed it.
Still in the dark earth rested!
Ere all in youth's too ardent glow,
The deadly blow was breasted.
As perfect tower'd that matchless head
As some fond sculptress formed it,
And heaven disdaining not to aid
With heaven's own life-fires warmed it.
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Ah! would thy heart had beat more calm
When maddened honour tost it,
And Reason, fainting in the storm,
Strove vainly to accost it!
So lovely was thy latest sleep,
The eye that never knew thee,
Turned from the beauteous sight to weep,
On lingering stayed to view thee.
When maddened honour tost it,
And Reason, fainting in the storm,
Strove vainly to accost it!
So lovely was thy latest sleep,
The eye that never knew thee,
Turned from the beauteous sight to weep,
On lingering stayed to view thee.
In death's cold dews those locks reposed,
In yester's moon-beam veering,
Those dark, bright, azure lights were closed,
Whence looked the soul unfearing.
But on that lip a smile remained
As if, in heaven expected,
Some angel guide heaven's joys explained,
And thou his look reflected.
In yester's moon-beam veering,
Those dark, bright, azure lights were closed,
Whence looked the soul unfearing.
But on that lip a smile remained
As if, in heaven expected,
Some angel guide heaven's joys explained,
And thou his look reflected.
The autumn day rose pale and wet
Deep in the grave they laid thee;
With drooping plumes thy comrades met
And the last tribute paid thee:
And thought upon the evening past,
Thine accents bland recalling,
Mid the low wailings of the blast
And rain-drop fastly falling.
Deep in the grave they laid thee;
With drooping plumes thy comrades met
And the last tribute paid thee:
And thought upon the evening past,
Thine accents bland recalling,
Mid the low wailings of the blast
And rain-drop fastly falling.
And thought upon an absent maid,
(And strove the sigh to smother.)
Who now, perchance, in fancy strayed
To meet her blooming brother.
In fancy while the cold clod fell,
Beheld his future glory—
Her dream must pass—but softly tell,
Sad bearer of the story,
(And strove the sigh to smother.)
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To meet her blooming brother.
In fancy while the cold clod fell,
Beheld his future glory—
Her dream must pass—but softly tell,
Sad bearer of the story,
His life's white tablet shines so fair
It seems a dear illusion:
Nor fault, nor stain, nor blot is there
Save one—at its conclusion.
To friendship's bosom be it prest
Let weeping Love embrace it!
One fatal blot, brave youth, but rest
The tear and kiss efface it.
It seems a dear illusion:
Nor fault, nor stain, nor blot is there
Save one—at its conclusion.
To friendship's bosom be it prest
Let weeping Love embrace it!
One fatal blot, brave youth, but rest
The tear and kiss efface it.
| Judith, Esther, and other poems | |