 | Glenarvon |  |
GLENARVON.
Disperato dolor, che il cor mi preme
Gia pur pensando, pria che ne favelle.
Gia pur pensando, pria che ne favelle.
32
[This heart has never stoop'd its pride]
This heart has never stoop'd its pride
To slavish love, or woman's wile;
But, steel'd by war, has oft defy'd
Her craftiest art and brightest smile.
To slavish love, or woman's wile;
But, steel'd by war, has oft defy'd
Her craftiest art and brightest smile.
33
This mind has trac'd its own career,
Nor follow'd blind, where others trod;
Nor, mov'd by love, or hope or fear,
E'er bent to man, or worshipp'd God.
Nor follow'd blind, where others trod;
Nor, mov'd by love, or hope or fear,
E'er bent to man, or worshipp'd God.
Then hope not now to touch with love,
Or in its chains a heart to draw,
All earthly spells have fail'd to move;
And heav'n's whole terrors cannot awe:
Or in its chains a heart to draw,
All earthly spells have fail'd to move;
And heav'n's whole terrors cannot awe:
A heart, that like some mountain vast,
And cold with never-melting snow,
Sees nought above, nor deigns to cast
A look away on aught below.
And cold with never-melting snow,
Sees nought above, nor deigns to cast
A look away on aught below.
169
[Waters of Elle! thy limpid streams are flowing]
Waters of Elle! thy limpid streams are flowing,
smooth and untroubled, through the flow'ry vale:
O'er thy green banks once more, the wild rose blowing,
Greets the young spring, and scents the passing gale.
smooth and untroubled, through the flow'ry vale:
O'er thy green banks once more, the wild rose blowing,
Greets the young spring, and scents the passing gale.
170
Here 'twas at eve, near yonder tree reposing,
One still too dear, first breath'd his vows to thee:
Wear this, he cried, his guileful love disclosing,
Near to thy heart, in memory of me.
One still too dear, first breath'd his vows to thee:
Wear this, he cried, his guileful love disclosing,
Near to thy heart, in memory of me.
Love's cherished gift, the rose he gave, is faded;
Love's blighted flower, can never bloom again.
Weep for thy fault—in heart—in mind degraded:
Weep, ifthy tears can wash away the stain.
Love's blighted flower, can never bloom again.
Weep for thy fault—in heart—in mind degraded:
Weep, ifthy tears can wash away the stain.
Call back the vows, that once to heaven were plighted,
Vows full of love, of innocence and truth.
Call back the scenes in which thy soul delighted:
Call back the dream that blest thy early youth.
Vows full of love, of innocence and truth.
Call back the scenes in which thy soul delighted:
Call back the dream that blest thy early youth.
Flow silver stream, tho' threatening tempests lower,
Bright, mild and clear, thy gentle waters flow;
Round thy green banks, the spring's young blossoms flower;
O'er thy soft waves the balmy zephyrs blow.
Bright, mild and clear, thy gentle waters flow;
Round thy green banks, the spring's young blossoms flower;
O'er thy soft waves the balmy zephyrs blow.
—Yet, all in vain; for never spring arraying
Nature in charms, to thee can make it fair.
Ill fated love, clouds all thy path, pourtraying
Years past of bliss, and future of despair.
Nature in charms, to thee can make it fair.
Ill fated love, clouds all thy path, pourtraying
Years past of bliss, and future of despair.
191
[“Farewell.”]
“Farewell.”
Ah! frown not thus—nor turn from me,
I must not—dare not—look on thee;
Too well thou know'st how dear thou art,
'Tis hard but yet 'tis best to part:
I wish thee not to share my grief,
It seeks, it hopes, for no relief.
Ah! frown not thus—nor turn from me,
I must not—dare not—look on thee;
Too well thou know'st how dear thou art,
'Tis hard but yet 'tis best to part:
I wish thee not to share my grief,
It seeks, it hopes, for no relief.
192
“Farewell.”
Come give thy hand, what though we part,
Thy name is fixed, within my heart;
I shall not change, nor break the vow
I made before and plight thee now;
For since thou may'st not live for me,
'Tis sweeter far to die for thee.
Come give thy hand, what though we part,
Thy name is fixed, within my heart;
I shall not change, nor break the vow
I made before and plight thee now;
For since thou may'st not live for me,
'Tis sweeter far to die for thee.
“Farewell”
Thoult think of me when I am gone
None shall undo, what I have done;
Yet even thy love I would resign
To save thee from remorse like mine;
Thy tears shall fall upon my grave:
They still may bless—they cannot save.
Thoult think of me when I am gone
None shall undo, what I have done;
Yet even thy love I would resign
To save thee from remorse like mine;
Thy tears shall fall upon my grave:
They still may bless—they cannot save.
194
[By that smile which made me blest]
By that smile which made me blest,
And left me soon the wretch you see—
By that heart I once possest,
Which now, they say, is given to thee—
By St. Clara's wrongs and woes—
Trust not young Glenarvon's vows.
And left me soon the wretch you see—
By that heart I once possest,
Which now, they say, is given to thee—
By St. Clara's wrongs and woes—
Trust not young Glenarvon's vows.
195
By those lays which breathe around
A poet's great and matchless art—
By that voice whose silver sound
Can soothe to peace th' imprisoned heart—
By every bitter pang I prove—
Trust not young Glenarvon's love.
A poet's great and matchless art—
By that voice whose silver sound
Can soothe to peace th' imprisoned heart—
By every bitter pang I prove—
Trust not young Glenarvon's love.
Each brighter, kinder hope forsaking,
Bereft of all that made life dear
My health impaired, my spirit breaking,
Yet still too proud to shed one tear:
O! lady, by my wrongs and woes,
Trust not young Glenarvon's vows.
Bereft of all that made life dear
My health impaired, my spirit breaking,
Yet still too proud to shed one tear:
O! lady, by my wrongs and woes,
Trust not young Glenarvon's vows.
And when at length the hand of death
Shall bid St. Clara's heart be still—
When struggling with its latest breath,
His image shall her fancy fill,
Ah trust to one whose death shall prove
What fate attends Glenarvon's love.
Shall bid St. Clara's heart be still—
When struggling with its latest breath,
His image shall her fancy fill,
Ah trust to one whose death shall prove
What fate attends Glenarvon's love.
240
[“The sacred lore o'weel-plac'd love]
“The sacred lore o'weel-plac'd love,Luxuriantly indulge it;
But never tempt th' illicit rove,
Tho' naething should divulge it:
I wave the quantum o' the sin,
The hazard of concealing;
But och! it hardens a' within,
And petrifies the feeling.”
| Glenarvon | |