The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson including many pieces never before published. In Three Volumes |
 | I. |
 | II. |
THE PILGRIM's FAREWELL.
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| III. |
 | The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson |  |
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THE PILGRIM's FAREWELL.
FROM THE ROMANCE OF VANCENZA.
O'er desarts untrodden, o'er moss-cover'd hills,
I have wander'd forlorn and alone;
My tears I have mingled with slow-winding rills,
And the valleys have echo'd my groan!
I have wander'd forlorn and alone;
My tears I have mingled with slow-winding rills,
And the valleys have echo'd my groan!
I have seen the wan Moon from her silver veil peep,
As she rose from her cloud-dappled bed;
I have heard the dread hurricane yell 'midst the deep,
As the lightnings play'd over my head!
As she rose from her cloud-dappled bed;
I have heard the dread hurricane yell 'midst the deep,
As the lightnings play'd over my head!
When the tempest subsided I saw the faint dawn
O'er the eastern hill meekly appear;
While each King-cup that droop'd on the dew-shining lawn
From its golden lids dropp'd a soft tear.
O'er the eastern hill meekly appear;
While each King-cup that droop'd on the dew-shining lawn
From its golden lids dropp'd a soft tear.
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I have seen the bright day-star illumine the earth,
I have hail'd the proud sov'reign of fire;
I have smil'd on the primrose just waken'd to birth,
I have sigh'd—to behold it expire!
I have hail'd the proud sov'reign of fire;
I have smil'd on the primrose just waken'd to birth,
I have sigh'd—to behold it expire!
How oft have I pitied the plaint of the dove,
How I've mus'd near the nightingale's nest!
For, alas! when the mourner sings sweetly of Love,
'Tis soft sympathy thrills through my breast.
How I've mus'd near the nightingale's nest!
For, alas! when the mourner sings sweetly of Love,
'Tis soft sympathy thrills through my breast.
I have seen the tall forest o'ershadow the glade,
And extend its broad branches on high;
But how soon have I mark'd its rich canopy fade,
And its yellow leaves whirl'd to the sky!
And extend its broad branches on high;
But how soon have I mark'd its rich canopy fade,
And its yellow leaves whirl'd to the sky!
I have sigh'd o'er the sod where some Lover was laid;
I have torn the rude weeds from his breast;
I have deck'd it with flow'rets; and oft I have said,
“How I envy thy pallet of rest!”
I have torn the rude weeds from his breast;
I have deck'd it with flow'rets; and oft I have said,
“How I envy thy pallet of rest!”
I have trac'd the long shades o'er the wave's silky green,
When the storm gather'd over the main;
I have gaz'd with delight on the landscape serene
When the evening-bell toll'd on the plain.
When the storm gather'd over the main;
I have gaz'd with delight on the landscape serene
When the evening-bell toll'd on the plain.
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Exulting and gay, I have smil'd to behold
Proud Nature luxuriantly drest;
I have wept when I saw her uncover'd and cold,
And the winter-blast howl'd o'er her breast.
Proud Nature luxuriantly drest;
I have wept when I saw her uncover'd and cold,
And the winter-blast howl'd o'er her breast.
Since such are the scenes of this journey of Care,
Since each pleasure is mingled with pain,
Still let me the raptures of Sympathy share,
And my bosom shall scorn to complain.
Since each pleasure is mingled with pain,
Still let me the raptures of Sympathy share,
And my bosom shall scorn to complain.
Though destin'd to wander o'er mountains of snow,
Vancenza! O mansion divine!
Thy Pilgrim shall smile at his journey of woe,
And his heart, his warm heart shall be thine!
Vancenza! O mansion divine!
Thy Pilgrim shall smile at his journey of woe,
And his heart, his warm heart shall be thine!
| The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson | |