The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson including many pieces never before published. In Three Volumes |
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 | III. |
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STANZAS. FROM “THE SHRINE OF BERTHA.” |
 | The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson |  |
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STANZAS. FROM “THE SHRINE OF BERTHA.”
Farewell! dear haunts of pleasing woes!
Ye sun-burnt vales and forests drear;
Where oft, at ev'ning's solemn close,
I drop the sad, the pensive tear.
Ye sun-burnt vales and forests drear;
Where oft, at ev'ning's solemn close,
I drop the sad, the pensive tear.
Farewell! ye vineyards, whose rich glow
Derides the flaming orb of light!
Ye limpid streams, that brawling flow,
Ye vanes, that greet the traveller's sight.
Derides the flaming orb of light!
Ye limpid streams, that brawling flow,
Ye vanes, that greet the traveller's sight.
Farewell, ye shades of mountain pine,
Ye rude rocks, black'ning o'er the wave;
And, oh! farewell, dear rugged shrine,
That marks my Bertha's lowly grave.
Ye rude rocks, black'ning o'er the wave;
And, oh! farewell, dear rugged shrine,
That marks my Bertha's lowly grave.
I go to paths of brighter hue:
Yet mem'ry oft shall wander here;
And fancy still shall flow'rets strew,
Begemm'd with pity's holy tear!
Yet mem'ry oft shall wander here;
And fancy still shall flow'rets strew,
Begemm'd with pity's holy tear!
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And when to distant realms I stray,
To mingling scenes of pomp and glee,
Oft will I steal, lov'd shade, to pray,
And drop a tender tear for thee!
To mingling scenes of pomp and glee,
Oft will I steal, lov'd shade, to pray,
And drop a tender tear for thee!
That tear perchance may give relief,
And med'cine comfort to my woes!
For oft from sympathetic grief
The wounded bosom finds repose.
And med'cine comfort to my woes!
For oft from sympathetic grief
The wounded bosom finds repose.
Oh! I would ruminate and mourn
From early dawn 'till fading eve;
For midst the gay this heart forlorn
Would turn to thee—and turn to grieve.
From early dawn 'till fading eve;
For midst the gay this heart forlorn
Would turn to thee—and turn to grieve.
Still would my zealous care display
Each tribute thy sad fate demands!
Oft would I scatter garlands gay,
To shield thee from unhallow'd hands.
Each tribute thy sad fate demands!
Oft would I scatter garlands gay,
To shield thee from unhallow'd hands.
When morn, its sunny wings spread wide,
Should wake each flow'r of gaudiest hue,
Thy shrine should glow with softer pride,
My tears surpass its spangling dew!
Should wake each flow'r of gaudiest hue,
Thy shrine should glow with softer pride,
My tears surpass its spangling dew!
And when at ev'ning's crimson hour
The bat and beetle flit around,
Faint echo, from yon mould'ring tow'r,
Should greet my song's prophetic sound.
The bat and beetle flit around,
Faint echo, from yon mould'ring tow'r,
Should greet my song's prophetic sound.
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And when the tissued veil of night
Should scatter wide a doubtful gloom,
Oft would I steal from mortal sight,
To weep and sigh o'er Bertha's tomb!
Should scatter wide a doubtful gloom,
Oft would I steal from mortal sight,
To weep and sigh o'er Bertha's tomb!
But, ah! farewell! no more thy strain
Shall vibrate thro' yon cloister's shade;
No more enchant the village swain,
Or sooth to hope the love-lorn maid!
Shall vibrate thro' yon cloister's shade;
No more enchant the village swain,
Or sooth to hope the love-lorn maid!
No more, when rapt in pensive mood,
The convent's bell, with silver sound,
Shall echo thro' yon spectred wood,
To wake me from my dream profound;
The convent's bell, with silver sound,
Shall echo thro' yon spectred wood,
To wake me from my dream profound;
No more the distant taper's glare
Shall thro' the painted windows burn,
To mark the vesper hour of pray'r,
And bid my truant steps—return!
Shall thro' the painted windows burn,
To mark the vesper hour of pray'r,
And bid my truant steps—return!
Oh, Bertha! since ordain'd to part,
Since destin'd from thy dust to stray,
Let resignation bathe my heart!
And thy meek spirit—guide my way.
Since destin'd from thy dust to stray,
Let resignation bathe my heart!
And thy meek spirit—guide my way.
| The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson | |