University of Virginia Library

TO------

Thou didst not think, then, I had loved?—
Ah! lady! were I but to tell
The pangs this breast hath vainly proved
For her I loved—alas! too well;
For her who ne'er by word or look,
Although she knew the secret woe
My cheek that blanched, my frame that shook,
Would even coldest pity show;
But, borne on youth and beauty's tide,
Looked down with scornful eye on one
Who withered in its glance of pride,
Yet wanted heart that glance to shun.
Thy wonder, lady, then would be
That I should e'er have smiled again,
And on my brow that thou shouldst see
No token of those hours of pain:
Ah! deeper than my cheek and brow
Are sunk the signs of sorrow's smart—
The scar, that marks affliction's blow,
Is where the wound was—in my heart.
That couldst thou see, then mightst thou trace
The path of passion through its core,
Thoughts which long years can ne'er efface,
Hopes blighted—ne'er to blossom more!
Why, at the banquet and the ball,
Should sadness o'er me seem to reign?—
Weep thou who will, I'll smile with all,
As if I ne'er had tasted pain.
Not mine the ostentatious woes
That claim from all the tribute-tear;
I would not cast a cloud o'er those
Whose spirits are like sunshine clear;
I would not wake in friendship's breast
A sigh, for what mine own hath proved;
Nor could I bear the heartless jest
Of the cold few who never loved.
Not mine the childish griefs that flow
Brawling, like brooks, o'er ev'ry stone:
It is the deep, full tide of woe
That smoothly, silently, glides on.
Still cheerful is each look and tone,
As erst they were ere love had birth;
And e'en my harp, to mourning prone,
I sometimes wake to notes of mirth:
But ah! not less the water's force,
When lilies on its surface beam;
As rapid is the river's course,
Though roses overhang its stream.
Pass round the bowl, raise high the song—
As lightly will I sing and quaff;
Bound merrily the dance along—
I'll join alike the group, the laugh;
But when the song is heard no more,
The bowl is drained, the dancers fled—
Then comes the gloom my spirit o'er;
Then, lady, would that I were dead!