 | Poetical remains (1872) |  |
Elegy on the Death of a Father.
We must submit—Why then with grief opprest?
Why sinks my soul beneath her load of woe?
The voice of wisdom cannot calm this breast,
Nor dry those tears which nature bids to flow.
Why sinks my soul beneath her load of woe?
The voice of wisdom cannot calm this breast,
Nor dry those tears which nature bids to flow.
All-fost'ring sun! vain is thy genial power;
Thou shinest but for him from sorrow free.
In vain spring paints each blooming fragrant flower,
Their bloom, their fragrance, all is lost to me.
Thou shinest but for him from sorrow free.
In vain spring paints each blooming fragrant flower,
Their bloom, their fragrance, all is lost to me.
38
Ye dear companions of my sports, with you
How late I mixed, as thoughtless and as gay.
Vain sports that charmed my happier hours, adieu!
Adieu, ye fields, where once I loved to stray!
How late I mixed, as thoughtless and as gay.
Vain sports that charmed my happier hours, adieu!
Adieu, ye fields, where once I loved to stray!
Ah me! Then all was joy. Yon echoing mead
Beheld me foremost of the youthful train:
Each pleasing toil yon hill beheld me lead;
When, when, blest days, will ye return again?
Beheld me foremost of the youthful train:
Each pleasing toil yon hill beheld me lead;
When, when, blest days, will ye return again?
I now must weep among the lonely woods,
Which ne'er the hateful eye of day pervades;
Where, sadly, silent melancholy broods,
“Breathing a browner horror on the shades.”
Which ne'er the hateful eye of day pervades;
Where, sadly, silent melancholy broods,
“Breathing a browner horror on the shades.”
Oh! may no foot intruding mark this place!
Leave me unseen, unpitied, here to mourn!
For he is lost to a young orphan race!
O heavy, heavy loss! O race forlorn!
Leave me unseen, unpitied, here to mourn!
For he is lost to a young orphan race!
O heavy, heavy loss! O race forlorn!
Thou best of fathers! Where ah! where was I
When on thee fell the ruthless arm of death?
Why, why, did heaven this little boon deny;
Thine eyes to close, and catch thy struggling breath?
When on thee fell the ruthless arm of death?
Why, why, did heaven this little boon deny;
Thine eyes to close, and catch thy struggling breath?
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Why did I not embrace thy limbs, yet warm,
And follow with slow steps thy mournful bier?
Why did I not the last sad rites perform,
And o'er thy grave indulge the pious tear?
And follow with slow steps thy mournful bier?
Why did I not the last sad rites perform,
And o'er thy grave indulge the pious tear?
Hadst thou no parting kind farewell to give,
When o'er thy face a wife distracted hung?
Hadst thou no blessing on thy race to leave?
Cruel disease! Why didst thou chain his tongue?
When o'er thy face a wife distracted hung?
Hadst thou no blessing on thy race to leave?
Cruel disease! Why didst thou chain his tongue?
Cruel disease! and am I left behind?
Why do I call on thee, O Death, in vain?
What is life now? What can this aching mind
Of joy or solace feel? All here is pain.
Why do I call on thee, O Death, in vain?
What is life now? What can this aching mind
Of joy or solace feel? All here is pain.
When, absent long, with many a fond caress
My raptured mother smiles away her care;
When round with eager love my brothers press;
How shall I meet that love? Thou art not there.
My raptured mother smiles away her care;
When round with eager love my brothers press;
How shall I meet that love? Thou art not there.
In vain round every scene my eyes I roll,
Scenes that could once wake transport in my heart;
They but recall thy image to my soul,
While from my eyes the tears unbidden start.
Scenes that could once wake transport in my heart;
They but recall thy image to my soul,
While from my eyes the tears unbidden start.
40
No more can Bath with all her treasures charm;
No more the waving fields, the verdant lawn,
The distant lowing herd, the sheltered farm
One cheerful thought can raise: for thou art gone.
No more the waving fields, the verdant lawn,
The distant lowing herd, the sheltered farm
One cheerful thought can raise: for thou art gone.
In serious converse joined, the mountain path
(Where feed the woolly flocks) full oft we wore;
And, as we trod the flowery vale beneath,
Thy tongue oft formed my mind to virtue's lore.
(Where feed the woolly flocks) full oft we wore;
And, as we trod the flowery vale beneath,
Thy tongue oft formed my mind to virtue's lore.
And art thou dead? Who shall direct my youth?
Who my rash feet from pleasure's snares defend?
Who shall point out the steady paths of Truth?
Like thee, my Guide, my Guardian, Father, Friend!
Who my rash feet from pleasure's snares defend?
Who shall point out the steady paths of Truth?
Like thee, my Guide, my Guardian, Father, Friend!
And art thou dead? Oh! to what friend sincere
Shall thy defenceless orphan children fly?
Who shall protect them? Who shall wipe the tear
That streams incessant from affliction's eye?
Shall thy defenceless orphan children fly?
Who shall protect them? Who shall wipe the tear
That streams incessant from affliction's eye?
To Thee alone we look, thou Sire of all!
'Tis thine to shield the helpless orphan's head:
'Tis thine to listen to affliction's call,
And on our wounds the balm of comfort shed
'Tis thine to shield the helpless orphan's head:
'Tis thine to listen to affliction's call,
And on our wounds the balm of comfort shed
| Poetical remains (1872) | |