The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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Love.
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
Love.
Can I forget a time of generous bliss,
Of trembling hope and boundless happiness,
When neither self nor sorrow durst assail?—
That day I'll sing till my remembrance fail.
Of trembling hope and boundless happiness,
When neither self nor sorrow durst assail?—
That day I'll sing till my remembrance fail.
When Winter's stern and sullen reign was o'er,
And the slow wave fell lighter on the shore;
When spring-tide lengthened far the jocund eve,
And the red sun still lingered o'er the wave;
When little wild birds sought the forest land,
And poured their lays so melting and so bland—
All grew enchantment to my youthful view;
The virgin's cheek turned of a rosier hue;
The amber clouds that hung above the west,
The violet's hue, the daisy's snowy vest,
All wore a charm mine eye had never viewed—
What could it mean? Was nature all renewed?
I saw her new endearing glories well—
I looked, and sighed, but why I could not tell.
Love! What had love to do with earth or sky,
Or aught beyond a maiden's blithesome eye?
It was not love, that I was free to say—
Ah me! too soon she proved her sovereign sway.
'Twas she that lent the beauties to the scene,
Painted the clouds, and bloomed along the green,
Cheered every gambol, warbled from the spray,
And called the soul's young visions into play.
And the slow wave fell lighter on the shore;
When spring-tide lengthened far the jocund eve,
And the red sun still lingered o'er the wave;
When little wild birds sought the forest land,
And poured their lays so melting and so bland—
All grew enchantment to my youthful view;
The virgin's cheek turned of a rosier hue;
The amber clouds that hung above the west,
The violet's hue, the daisy's snowy vest,
All wore a charm mine eye had never viewed—
What could it mean? Was nature all renewed?
I saw her new endearing glories well—
I looked, and sighed, but why I could not tell.
Love! What had love to do with earth or sky,
Or aught beyond a maiden's blithesome eye?
It was not love, that I was free to say—
Ah me! too soon she proved her sovereign sway.
'Twas she that lent the beauties to the scene,
Painted the clouds, and bloomed along the green,
Cheered every gambol, warbled from the spray,
And called the soul's young visions into play.
Celestial love! when first in Eden's bower,
The dire commotions of the soul had power;
When angels turned the pitying eye away
From Beauty's fall, and nature's first decay;
When first thy balm the wounded spirit knew
From heaven descending downward like the dew;
And since that time, if aught may ease the smart
Of future anguish pillowed on the heart,
It is the transport of thy blissful hour,
When smiles the eye of beauty's sweetest flower.
Oh, when two hearts in each fond hope combine,
Who would at the award of heaven repine?
Or who would change the joys his soul that thrill,
For immortality of human ill?
The dire commotions of the soul had power;
When angels turned the pitying eye away
From Beauty's fall, and nature's first decay;
When first thy balm the wounded spirit knew
From heaven descending downward like the dew;
And since that time, if aught may ease the smart
Of future anguish pillowed on the heart,
It is the transport of thy blissful hour,
When smiles the eye of beauty's sweetest flower.
Oh, when two hearts in each fond hope combine,
Who would at the award of heaven repine?
Or who would change the joys his soul that thrill,
For immortality of human ill?
Say, lives there, Earth, upon thy teeming breast,
One human thing so sordid and unblest,
As ne'er that highest boon of Heaven to know,
The source, the balm of mortal life below?
Whose heart the smiles of beauty never moved?
Who ne'er as husband nor as parent loved?
No blessed spirit e'er that face shall greet,
For angel fellowship and heaven unmeet.
One human thing so sordid and unblest,
As ne'er that highest boon of Heaven to know,
The source, the balm of mortal life below?
Whose heart the smiles of beauty never moved?
Who ne'er as husband nor as parent loved?
No blessed spirit e'er that face shall greet,
For angel fellowship and heaven unmeet.
Gem of the soul, oh be thy treasures mine!
Thy draughts of rapture from the spring divine;
The half-assenting lip, averted eye,
And moistened glowing cheek on mine to lie.
The cordial link, the soul's eternal spring,
Lightening the woes that round our nature cling,
Our present joys, our happiness to be
In earth and heaven, must emanate from thee.
Thy draughts of rapture from the spring divine;
The half-assenting lip, averted eye,
And moistened glowing cheek on mine to lie.
The cordial link, the soul's eternal spring,
Lightening the woes that round our nature cling,
Our present joys, our happiness to be
In earth and heaven, must emanate from thee.
Thou art that feeling generous and refined,
That hallowed scion grafted on the mind,
That in its blossom, though with blush repressed,
Verges to beauty or congenial breast.
But, heaven-directed, still its tendrils spread
Round nature's bourn, the living and the dead;
Till at the last, the sun and stars above,
'Tis grafted in the fields of light and love,
In that blest land from whence its being came,
To bloom through all eternity the same.
That hallowed scion grafted on the mind,
That in its blossom, though with blush repressed,
Verges to beauty or congenial breast.
But, heaven-directed, still its tendrils spread
Round nature's bourn, the living and the dead;
Till at the last, the sun and stars above,
'Tis grafted in the fields of light and love,
In that blest land from whence its being came,
To bloom through all eternity the same.
| The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | |