The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson including many pieces never before published. In Three Volumes |
 | I. |
 | II. |
STANZAS.
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| III. |
 | The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson |  |
373
STANZAS.
[When the bleak blast of Winter howls o'er the blue hill]
When the bleak blast of Winter howls o'er the blue hill,
And the valley is stripp'd of its verdant array,
When the Moon faintly gleams o'er the frost-silver'd spray,
And the yellow leaves flit o'er the ice mantled rill:
And the valley is stripp'd of its verdant array,
When the Moon faintly gleams o'er the frost-silver'd spray,
And the yellow leaves flit o'er the ice mantled rill:
The poor simple offspring of labour and care,
By his turf-lighted hearth sits resign'd to his lot,
While the flame of affection illumines his cot,
And the often-told tale cheers the gloom of despair.
By his turf-lighted hearth sits resign'd to his lot,
While the flame of affection illumines his cot,
And the often-told tale cheers the gloom of despair.
For him the blest beam of the soul-speaking eye,
The smile of pure Love, have their raptures in store;
And though the wild storm round his threshold shall roar,
He sinks to soft slumber, and dreams but of joy.
The smile of pure Love, have their raptures in store;
And though the wild storm round his threshold shall roar,
He sinks to soft slumber, and dreams but of joy.
374
No hopeless fond passion corrodes in his breast,
His rude rushy pillow invites to repose;
No couch of light down and rich fragrance he knows,
But he knows what is sweeter—a pallet of rest!
His rude rushy pillow invites to repose;
No couch of light down and rich fragrance he knows,
But he knows what is sweeter—a pallet of rest!
For what are the pleasures the world can bestow—
The gay mirthful scene, or the banquet profuse?
What the laurel of Fame, or the song of the Muse,
When the heart bleeds in silence, the victim of woe?
The gay mirthful scene, or the banquet profuse?
What the laurel of Fame, or the song of the Muse,
When the heart bleeds in silence, the victim of woe?
O'er each prospect of bliss that fond fancy illumes,
The fix'd brow of Prudence frowns sadly severe,
While my cheek, warm with blushes, is chill'd by Love's tear,
And the sigh of Regret fans the flame that consumes:
The fix'd brow of Prudence frowns sadly severe,
While my cheek, warm with blushes, is chill'd by Love's tear,
And the sigh of Regret fans the flame that consumes:
For, perish the heart that can meanly desire
The cold balm of Pity to sooth its despair!
My passion shall scorn the dear object to share,
And, exulting in silence, shall proudly expire!
The cold balm of Pity to sooth its despair!
My passion shall scorn the dear object to share,
And, exulting in silence, shall proudly expire!
375
Yes, in silence, proud silence, I'll muse o'er his worth,
Though reflection shall steal the faint Rose from my cheek,
Though my eye's faded lustre its poison shall speak,
And my heart-bursting sighs bend my frame to the earth!
Though reflection shall steal the faint Rose from my cheek,
Though my eye's faded lustre its poison shall speak,
And my heart-bursting sighs bend my frame to the earth!
Then rest, my sad bosom—henceforth be at peace!
Thy hopes and thy anguish will shortly be o'er:
Stern Prudence shall frown on thy passion no more,
For in Death's cold embrace all thy sorrows will cease!
Thy hopes and thy anguish will shortly be o'er:
Stern Prudence shall frown on thy passion no more,
For in Death's cold embrace all thy sorrows will cease!
| The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson | |