The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed With a Memoir by the Rev. Derwent Coleridge. Fourth Edition. In Two Volumes |
 |
| I. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
|
THE PARTING. |
|
| II. |
| I. |
|
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
 | The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed |  |
248
THE PARTING.
“Alla prigione antica
Quell' augellin ritorna
Ancorchè mano amica
Gli abbia disciolto il piè.”
Metastasio.
Quell' augellin ritorna
Ancorchè mano amica
Gli abbia disciolto il piè.”
Metastasio.
I
Farewell;—I will not nowThe wasted theme renew;
No cloud upon my cheek or brow
Shall wake one pang for you;
But here, unseen, unheard,
Ere evening's shadows fly,
I will but say that one weak word,
And pass unwelcomed by.
II
Farewell;—but it is strange,As round your towers I roam,
To think how desolate a change
Has come o'er heart and home;
Where stranger minstrels throng,
Where harsher harps are cherished,
The very memory of my song
Is, like its echo, perished.
249
III
The bird your gold has broughtFrom its own orient bowers,
Where every wandering wind is fraught
With the sweet breath of flowers,
Will never murmur more
A note so clear and high
As that which he was wont to pour
Beneath his native sky.
IV
Yet 'twere a cruel thing,If Pity's tears and sighs
Could give the breezes to his wing,
The daylight to his eyes;
His vision is the night,
His home the prison, now,
He could not look upon the light,
Nor sleep upon the bough.
V
Lady, when first your mirthFlung magic o'er my way,
Mine was the gayest soul on earth
When all the earth was gay;
My songs were full of joy,—
You might have let them flow;
My heart was every woman's toy,—
You might have left it so!
250
VI
But now to send me backTo faded hopes and fears,
To bid me seek again the track
My foot has left for years,
To cancel what must be,
To alter what has been,—
Ah! this indeed is mockery
Fit for a Fairy Queen!
VII
The lip that was so gayMore dark and still hath grown;
The listless lute of yesterday
Hath learnt a sadder tone;
And uttered is the thought,
And written is the vow;—
You might have left this charm unwrought,—
You must not rend it now!
VIII
When first upon my lanceI saw the fair sun shine,
I courted not that fairer glance,—
And yet it turned to mine;
When music's rich delight
From lips so lovely came,
I looked not on those lips that night,—
And yet they breathed my name!
251
IX
When our last words were brokenBy passion's bitter tears,
I asked not the recording token
Which I must love for years;
And when between us lay
Long tracks of sand and sea,
The carrier pigeon went his way
Unbegged, unbought, by me.
X
Farewell!—when I was boundIn every Beauty's thrall,
I could have lightly whispered round
That little word to all;
And now that I am cold,
And deemed the slave of none,
I marvel how my lips have told
That little word to one.
XI
Farewell!—since bliss so rareHath beamed but to betray,
It will be long ere I shall wear
The smile I wore to-day;
And since I weep not here
To call you false and vain,
I think I shall not shed one tear
For all this world again!
| The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed | |