Impressions of Italy and Other Poems By the Lady E. Stuart Wortley |
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 | SONGS, &c.
FROM UNPUBLISHED POEMS. |
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 | Impressions of Italy and Other Poems |  |
103
SONGS, &c. FROM UNPUBLISHED POEMS.
SHALL I TELL ALL THE WORLD.
Shall I tell all the world of thy bright charms aloud,
Shall I tell all the world of thy charms and attractions?
Shall I proudly proclaim to the hushed listening crowd,
What an Angel keeps guard o'er my thoughts and my actions.
Shall I tell all the world of thy charms and attractions?
Shall I proudly proclaim to the hushed listening crowd,
What an Angel keeps guard o'er my thoughts and my actions.
Shall I blazon thy beauty, and sound thy sweet name?
'Twere a theme to inspire with immortal emotion!
And my subject alone, must then crown me with fame,
While my soul should be stirred as the wind stirs the Ocean
'Twere a theme to inspire with immortal emotion!
And my subject alone, must then crown me with fame,
While my soul should be stirred as the wind stirs the Ocean
No! I will not do thus!—since 'twould be but to try,
Even to enkindle the World with one Passion and Madness!
And to make million millions as wretched as I—
For to love as I love is the rapture of sadness!
Even to enkindle the World with one Passion and Madness!
And to make million millions as wretched as I—
For to love as I love is the rapture of sadness!
104
STANZAS.
And need I say to whom addressed
These lines are now?—oh, no!—'t were vain;
The chord shall vibrate in thy breast,
The truth shall lighten through thy brain!
These lines are now?—oh, no!—'t were vain;
The chord shall vibrate in thy breast,
The truth shall lighten through thy brain!
I write to say but only this:
Grieve not that thou hast made me grieve.
Oh! thou wert dearer far than bliss—
Thou art—thou shalt be while I live!
Grieve not that thou hast made me grieve.
Oh! thou wert dearer far than bliss—
Thou art—thou shalt be while I live!
But hast thou made me grieve?—No! No!
In this World nought for me may be
Of Bliss, Good, Trial, Strife, or Woe—
There's nothing—nothing now—but thee!
In this World nought for me may be
Of Bliss, Good, Trial, Strife, or Woe—
There's nothing—nothing now—but thee!
105
YES! 'TWAS BUT ONE CHANCE WORD.
Yes! 't was but one chance word—but one chance thought,
That thus endangered—wronged me, and betrayed,
That all this misery and despair hath wrought;—
With weapons edged and poisoned 't was I played!
That thus endangered—wronged me, and betrayed,
That all this misery and despair hath wrought;—
With weapons edged and poisoned 't was I played!
In sport, I said thou wert the one for whom
My heart alone could beat—alone could burn;
In sport, 't was that I thus pronounced my doom,
And now the dire reality must learn!
My heart alone could beat—alone could burn;
In sport, 't was that I thus pronounced my doom,
And now the dire reality must learn!
In sport, I spoke of thy bright aspect's charm—
Ah! wherefore was the praise so just and true?
I said that thou alone my Soul could'st warm—
In sport, I said—till I believed it too!
Ah! wherefore was the praise so just and true?
I said that thou alone my Soul could'st warm—
In sport, I said—till I believed it too!
Oh! if we tempt Temptations thus to come,
Dare we expect to move unharmed and free?
Haply it might have proved but sport to some—
But, oh! not so—wild, passionate heart! to thee!
Dare we expect to move unharmed and free?
Haply it might have proved but sport to some—
But, oh! not so—wild, passionate heart! to thee!
106
ONCE I WALKED THROUGH A WORLD.
Once I walked through a world where was change, alteration—
But now I feel held in some strange spell-like thrall;
One feature—one feature presents all Creation,
One self-same appearance and tone runs through all!
But now I feel held in some strange spell-like thrall;
One feature—one feature presents all Creation,
One self-same appearance and tone runs through all!
No variety greets me in Evening or Morning,
In the Earth's face beneath, or the Heaven's field above;
In the flower's rich investing, the star's bright adorning—
Oh! what can the Power be that rules me, but Love?
In the Earth's face beneath, or the Heaven's field above;
In the flower's rich investing, the star's bright adorning—
Oh! what can the Power be that rules me, but Love?
The sweet air seems his breath, the soft sunshine his smiling
And the solid Earth nought but his Shadow—and now,
While he reigns o'er my heart—all bewildering, beguiling,
I still ask, if 'tis pleasure or pain?—answer thou!
And the solid Earth nought but his Shadow—and now,
While he reigns o'er my heart—all bewildering, beguiling,
I still ask, if 'tis pleasure or pain?—answer thou!
107
MY HEART!—POOR HEART!
My heart! poor heart! what pain thou givest me now!
Thou'rt like a very Death within my Life!
While scarcely to myself I dare avow
The cause—the fatal cause of all this strife.
Thou'rt like a very Death within my Life!
While scarcely to myself I dare avow
The cause—the fatal cause of all this strife.
My heart! poor heart! be quick, and deeply spread
Over mine whole Existence one blank hush.
They say that calm and peaceful are the Dead,
That their chilled breasts no future griefs can crush!
Over mine whole Existence one blank hush.
They say that calm and peaceful are the Dead,
That their chilled breasts no future griefs can crush!
But thou—oh! bitter are thy sufferings now,
A struggle—a stagnation—both in one!
The dead may rest in tranquil calm—but thou—
Oh! how in every way art thou undone.
A struggle—a stagnation—both in one!
The dead may rest in tranquil calm—but thou—
Oh! how in every way art thou undone.
108
My heart! poor heart! is thy dull torpor rest?
And is thy gloomy silence born of peace?
Oh! no! o'erwhelmed, bewildered, and oppressed,
The worst of pangs are there the last to cease.
And is thy gloomy silence born of peace?
Oh! no! o'erwhelmed, bewildered, and oppressed,
The worst of pangs are there the last to cease.
My heart! my heart! how buoyant once thou wert,
How burning and how winged with fluttering hope;
One careless error hath undone thee, heart!
And well thou hast learned thy part—to sink and droop!
How burning and how winged with fluttering hope;
One careless error hath undone thee, heart!
And well thou hast learned thy part—to sink and droop!
109
DEPARTURE.
Oh! what a change one little hour
Hath wrought for me—nought seems the same;
The Air choaks my breath—the Sunbeams lower,
And all is dull, and drear, and tame.
Hath wrought for me—nought seems the same;
The Air choaks my breath—the Sunbeams lower,
And all is dull, and drear, and tame.
Thou'rt gone!—and with thee doth depart
Hope—Inspiration—Love—and Life;
That torrid whirlwind, my wild heart,
Sinks, sickening, from its glowing strife!
Hope—Inspiration—Love—and Life;
That torrid whirlwind, my wild heart,
Sinks, sickening, from its glowing strife!
Life's but a strange sensation now—
Impatient of myself I'm grown;
I feel my soul within me bow,
I feel crushed, changed, and lost, and lone.
Impatient of myself I'm grown;
I feel my soul within me bow,
I feel crushed, changed, and lost, and lone.
110
What is this self that is not thee?
'Tis a dull burden—a vile tie—
Oh! could I but the echo be,
Beloved one! of thy faintest sigh!
'Tis a dull burden—a vile tie—
Oh! could I but the echo be,
Beloved one! of thy faintest sigh!
The dream that flits across thy brain,
The image of thine all-perfect frame;
The glass that bears thy breath's light stain,
The very scroll that keeps thy name!
The image of thine all-perfect frame;
The glass that bears thy breath's light stain,
The very scroll that keeps thy name!
The shadow of thy glorious form—
The breeze that fans thy brow by chance—
The pulse that in thy heart beats warm—
The light of thine all-dazzling glance!
The breeze that fans thy brow by chance—
The pulse that in thy heart beats warm—
The light of thine all-dazzling glance!
Thy very foot-print on the sand—
The chord that thrills to touch of thine—
The word traced lightly by thy hand—
All—aught—that is more thine than mine!
The chord that thrills to touch of thine—
The word traced lightly by thy hand—
All—aught—that is more thine than mine!
111
MY BEAUTIFUL.
My beautiful!—my beautiful!
Why art thou far from me?
Drear flow the days now—drear and dull,
Since gladness lives with thee!
Why art thou far from me?
Drear flow the days now—drear and dull,
Since gladness lives with thee!
This World must have the Sun to light
Its disk, with bright rays free,
Or lie all shadowed round with Night—
And I, Love! must have thee!
Its disk, with bright rays free,
Or lie all shadowed round with Night—
And I, Love! must have thee!
The Main must have his own fair Moon
His gentle Queen to be,
Or roll, one billowy chaos soon,
And I, Love! must have thee!
His gentle Queen to be,
Or roll, one billowy chaos soon,
And I, Love! must have thee!
The flower must have the South wind's breath,
And, oh!—that flower—the bee—
The sword must have its guardian sheath—
And I, Love! must have thee!
And, oh!—that flower—the bee—
The sword must have its guardian sheath—
And I, Love! must have thee!
112
ALONE! I LOVE TO BE ALONE.
Alone!—I love to be alone,
Wandering in silence, fancy-free,
By none addressed—approached by none—
For then, then, I am most with thee!
Wandering in silence, fancy-free,
By none addressed—approached by none—
For then, then, I am most with thee!
Thy voice of music fills the air,
Thy smile of beauty fills the sky,
And though thyself thou art not there,
The world is all thy memory!
Thy smile of beauty fills the sky,
And though thyself thou art not there,
The world is all thy memory!
Thy memory doth enchant—illume
The world within me and around;
Without that they were one blank gloom,
But with that they're as Eden found!
The world within me and around;
Without that they were one blank gloom,
But with that they're as Eden found!
Alone! I would be oft alone,
And shapes unseen by others see;
And hear sweet voices heard by none—
Shapes?—voices?—nay! but thine—but thee!
And shapes unseen by others see;
And hear sweet voices heard by none—
Shapes?—voices?—nay! but thine—but thee!
113
THE BELOVED NAME.
To hear thy name by strangers spoken
With careless utterance, light and free,
Which in faint whisperings, choaked and broken,
I still pronounce so quiveringly.
With careless utterance, light and free,
Which in faint whisperings, choaked and broken,
I still pronounce so quiveringly.
Like ice and fire it thrills, it pains me;
A fatal music wraps that word—
It startles, wounds, and yet enchains me—
The deadliest, sweetest sound e'er heard.
A fatal music wraps that word—
It startles, wounds, and yet enchains me—
The deadliest, sweetest sound e'er heard.
114
GIVE TO ANOTHER ONE MY PART.
Give to another one my part
In thy so false and treacherous heart;
But, oh! the memory of the love
Thou borest me—canst thou thus remove?
In thy so false and treacherous heart;
But, oh! the memory of the love
Thou borest me—canst thou thus remove?
Tear down mine image from its base,
And raise another in its place;
I tell thee that that other one
Shall mind thee more of the idol gone!
And raise another in its place;
I tell thee that that other one
Shall mind thee more of the idol gone!
115
CONSTANCY.
My Truth shall like the Dial stand,
Whether the Sun, with radiance bland—
The Sun of Love and Hope—shines there,
Or frowns the Midnight of Despair!
Whether the Sun, with radiance bland—
The Sun of Love and Hope—shines there,
Or frowns the Midnight of Despair!
Howe'er thy feebler heart grow strange,
My Constancy can know no change;
Through doubt, through wrong, through strife, through ill,—
Save but from deep to deeper still!
My Constancy can know no change;
Through doubt, through wrong, through strife, through ill,—
Save but from deep to deeper still!
116
DOUBT.
Oh, Love! canst thou exist without
The golden mystery of a Doubt
Wrapped round thee, like a cloud around
The light of lightnings yet unbound?
The golden mystery of a Doubt
Wrapped round thee, like a cloud around
The light of lightnings yet unbound?
But, oh! 'tis agony of grief—
'Tis Misery's wildest pang and chief;
No rest—no stay—no strength—no light—
The chill, without the charm of Night.
'Tis Misery's wildest pang and chief;
No rest—no stay—no strength—no light—
The chill, without the charm of Night.
But then if Certainty should come,
That Certainty soon grows thy tomb!
With nought to fan thy mystic fire—
Too soon 'tis fated to expire.
That Certainty soon grows thy tomb!
With nought to fan thy mystic fire—
Too soon 'tis fated to expire.
Thus, Love! thou must be still below,
Our fate, our tyrant, and our foe;
Since no way seems for thee to be
Our fixed and full Felicity.
Our fate, our tyrant, and our foe;
Since no way seems for thee to be
Our fixed and full Felicity.
117
INCONSTANCY.
The Rainbow's and the Opal's light
Seems shining o'er my visions bright;
My dreams of thee, such colours play
O'er my fond fancies, night and day.
Seems shining o'er my visions bright;
My dreams of thee, such colours play
O'er my fond fancies, night and day.
Their colours not alone are there,
But there their change too—oh! beware!
I would not wrong thee, nor deceive;
I love thee now—but soon shall leave!
But there their change too—oh! beware!
I would not wrong thee, nor deceive;
I love thee now—but soon shall leave!
I love thee now—but not for long—
My Love is sunshine all, and song;
And it shall surely fade, and fast,
For can sweet song and sunshine last?
My Love is sunshine all, and song;
And it shall surely fade, and fast,
For can sweet song and sunshine last?
118
Who can endure a calm at sea,
With no adored variety?
Or those long days the north doth know,
Till worse than gloom the gleams they throw!
With no adored variety?
Or those long days the north doth know,
Till worse than gloom the gleams they throw!
No! let me love thee for awhile,
A blush,—a vow,—a tear,—a smile,—
Then free and fain in sooth to range,
Court my still dearer idol—Change!
A blush,—a vow,—a tear,—a smile,—
Then free and fain in sooth to range,
Court my still dearer idol—Change!
119
A STAR DESERTED BY ITS SUN.
A Star deserted by its Sun;
A Lute by its awakening One;
A Lamb by some false Shepherd left;
An Infant of its Nurse bereft;
A Lute by its awakening One;
A Lamb by some false Shepherd left;
An Infant of its Nurse bereft;
A Shell tossed shoreward by the wave,
On some bare rock no billows lave;
A Flower forsaken by the bee;
A River barred back from the Sea!
On some bare rock no billows lave;
A Flower forsaken by the bee;
A River barred back from the Sea!
Such, such am I, by thee forgot,
Such, and so hopeless is my lot;
Oh! could my misery make me be,
But one faint fleeting dream of thee!
Such, and so hopeless is my lot;
Oh! could my misery make me be,
But one faint fleeting dream of thee!
Such is my heart, by thee disdained,
In every pulse and feeling pained;
Oh! that this pain could make it pine,
Into the Shadow but of thine!
In every pulse and feeling pained;
Oh! that this pain could make it pine,
Into the Shadow but of thine!
120
A WHISPERED WORD.
A whispered word—one whispered word,
Came o'er me like an earthquake's shock,
My heart too swiftly surely heard,
And on that very instant—broke!
Came o'er me like an earthquake's shock,
My heart too swiftly surely heard,
And on that very instant—broke!
Broke!—but 'tis like some shattered rock,
Split by the thunder's burst of wrath,
Which, proud survivor of the shock,
Stands, its own monument of death!
Split by the thunder's burst of wrath,
Which, proud survivor of the shock,
Stands, its own monument of death!
121
IN FORMER YEARS.
In former years, oh! how did many a dream
Come o'er my brain, to kindle and to bless;
If my heart ached then, buoyed on life's young stream,
It ached but with its far-stretched Hope's excess.
Come o'er my brain, to kindle and to bless;
If my heart ached then, buoyed on life's young stream,
It ached but with its far-stretched Hope's excess.
But now—the heavy difference—now, alas!
It knows to thrill but to the touch of care;
And while the joyless minutes darkening pass,
It aches—the deadly Aching of Despair!
It knows to thrill but to the touch of care;
And while the joyless minutes darkening pass,
It aches—the deadly Aching of Despair!
122
BROKEN HEARTED!—BROKEN HEARTED!
Broken hearted!—broken hearted,
Wildly, wholly broken hearted,
Still she watched for one departed,
While that bruised heart sorely smarted.
Wildly, wholly broken hearted,
Still she watched for one departed,
While that bruised heart sorely smarted.
Broken hearted!—broken hearted,
Withered, like a stricken flower;
Yet one gleam of winged hope darted
Through the horrors of that hour!
Withered, like a stricken flower;
Yet one gleam of winged hope darted
Through the horrors of that hour!
“Broken hearted!—broken hearted,
With a love so fond and true,
Oh! it surely hath imparted,
Of its truth some share to you.
With a love so fond and true,
Oh! it surely hath imparted,
Of its truth some share to you.
123
“Broken hearted!—broken hearted,
Still my thoughts, my pangs renew;
Yet methinks, thus lorn and parted,
Some kind memories are my due!”
Still my thoughts, my pangs renew;
Yet methinks, thus lorn and parted,
Some kind memories are my due!”
Broken hearted!—broken hearted,
Still she sought Hope's fires to fan,
Ever mocked and ever thwarted,
When to flash, those fires began.
Still she sought Hope's fires to fan,
Ever mocked and ever thwarted,
When to flash, those fires began.
Broken hearted!—broken hearted,
Vain were energies exerted,
Still the tears of anguish started,
Till she died for the departed!
Vain were energies exerted,
Still the tears of anguish started,
Till she died for the departed!
124
'TIS WELL FOR ME.
'Tis well for me those eyes so maddening,
Still make my soul in trances lie,
The intensity of Feeling's deadening,
And that I feel beneath thine eye!
Still make my soul in trances lie,
The intensity of Feeling's deadening,
And that I feel beneath thine eye!
'Tis overstrained, vague, strange, and fearful,
And leaves no strong impression clear,
My breath grows choaked—mine eye grows tearful,
'Tis all confusion, doubt, and fear.
And leaves no strong impression clear,
My breath grows choaked—mine eye grows tearful,
'Tis all confusion, doubt, and fear.
Were't not so—still should I be painting
On memory's tablets each rare charm;
'Tis well that rapt, o'erborne, and fainting,
My Soul escapes that deeper harm.
On memory's tablets each rare charm;
'Tis well that rapt, o'erborne, and fainting,
My Soul escapes that deeper harm.
125
Had I a little less of feeling,
More dangerous might that feeling prove;
But that excess seems almost stealing
The peril from the power of Love!
More dangerous might that feeling prove;
But that excess seems almost stealing
The peril from the power of Love!
When thou'rt away, oh! matchless Being,
When thou'rt away I breathe again;
I feel—I feel—like one that's fleeing
From ruin, misery, and from pain.
When thou'rt away I breathe again;
I feel—I feel—like one that's fleeing
From ruin, misery, and from pain.
The tyranny is so o'erpowering,
I joy to snatch one moment's calm;
And, coward-like, shrinking back and cowering,
I seek Oblivion's softening balm.
I joy to snatch one moment's calm;
And, coward-like, shrinking back and cowering,
I seek Oblivion's softening balm.
Perchance thou lovest me; that sweet story
Those maddening, maddening eyes have told,
With their soul-searching rays of glory,
That heart and mind in durance hold.
Those maddening, maddening eyes have told,
With their soul-searching rays of glory,
That heart and mind in durance hold.
126
I do believe thou lovest me, dearest,
Yet who shall say my love is blest,
When its best semblance, and its nearest,
Is a Volcano in the breast.
Yet who shall say my love is blest,
When its best semblance, and its nearest,
Is a Volcano in the breast.
No! pity me—All ye that ever
Have borne like burdens of distress;
Such love can ne'er be happy—never,
Though All conspire to cheer and bless.
Have borne like burdens of distress;
Such love can ne'er be happy—never,
Though All conspire to cheer and bless.
No! in itself 'tis too much anguish—
A poisoned crown—a gilded curse;
We pine—we doubt—we writhe—we languish—
Scarce Fortune's wrongs can make it worse!
A poisoned crown—a gilded curse;
We pine—we doubt—we writhe—we languish—
Scarce Fortune's wrongs can make it worse!
The love some feel—a peaceful current
May glide in smooth and measured flow;
No boiling surge—no dashing torrent—
But their love is not my love—no!
May glide in smooth and measured flow;
No boiling surge—no dashing torrent—
But their love is not my love—no!
127
Oh! 'tis a rage—a spasm—a fever
Torn, tortured through its own excess—
Such love can ne'er be happy—never,
Though crowned with every Happiness!
Torn, tortured through its own excess—
Such love can ne'er be happy—never,
Though crowned with every Happiness!
128
LOVE AND PRIDE.
Farewell, then, oh! Farewell to thee,
I own that thou wert dear to me;
But Love shall never bend me down,
An abject, slavish mood to own!
I own that thou wert dear to me;
But Love shall never bend me down,
An abject, slavish mood to own!
Since thou canst love me not—alas!
As I would—must be loved—I pass
With step of firm decision on,
And say “'tis best to mourn alone.”
As I would—must be loved—I pass
With step of firm decision on,
And say “'tis best to mourn alone.”
For all on this Earth mourners are—
And what is Love but a deep share
In all the shadowing ills that fall
On Mortals—bound by care's strict thrall?
And what is Love but a deep share
In all the shadowing ills that fall
On Mortals—bound by care's strict thrall?
129
Farewell, then—now farewell to thee,
Dear—ah! too dear wert thou to me;
For all my Courage and my Pride
But urged to this—then drooped and died!
Dear—ah! too dear wert thou to me;
For all my Courage and my Pride
But urged to this—then drooped and died!
But urged to this last proud farewell—
And now must I for ever dwell—
Since these forsake me and depart—
With mine own burning, breaking heart!
And now must I for ever dwell—
Since these forsake me and depart—
With mine own burning, breaking heart!
130
MY LOVE HATH BEEN A LOVELY DREAM.
My Love hath been a lovely dream,
And dare we, dare we hope for more?—
Borne on Life's darkly-rushing stream,
Fast to the unknown—the viewless shore!
And dare we, dare we hope for more?—
Borne on Life's darkly-rushing stream,
Fast to the unknown—the viewless shore!
My Love a lovely dream hath been;
'Tis over—must I be content,
And struggle through the darkened scene
To which its smile such radiance lent?
'Tis over—must I be content,
And struggle through the darkened scene
To which its smile such radiance lent?
My Love hath proved a lovely dream—
And dark now looks Reality!—
That meteor-flash—that rainbow-gleam
So charmed the fond enraptured eye.
And dark now looks Reality!—
That meteor-flash—that rainbow-gleam
So charmed the fond enraptured eye.
My Love hath been the loveliest dream,
And dare we, dare we hope for more?
What else doth Life itself even seem
But Dream in Dream—till all is o'er?
And dare we, dare we hope for more?
What else doth Life itself even seem
But Dream in Dream—till all is o'er?
131
FAREWELL! LIFE'S MADE UP OF FAREWELLS.
Farewell! Life's made up of Farewells,
But this—oh! this—alas! 'tis now;
Dejection in my crushed heart quells
Even Passion's wild and fervid glow!
But this—oh! this—alas! 'tis now;
Dejection in my crushed heart quells
Even Passion's wild and fervid glow!
Farewell! my Life is but Farewells
To every hope and dream, henceforth;
Yet Love to thee my soul impels,
True as the needle to the north!
To every hope and dream, henceforth;
Yet Love to thee my soul impels,
True as the needle to the north!
Farewell! no losses—no Farewells
Await us—in the worlds above—
There, where no groan of anguish tells
That Suffering is the same with Love!
Await us—in the worlds above—
There, where no groan of anguish tells
That Suffering is the same with Love!
Farewell!—the grave is strong and stern,
And there at last the sufferer hies—
There Passion must forget to burn—
Passion!—that King of Agonies!
And there at last the sufferer hies—
There Passion must forget to burn—
Passion!—that King of Agonies!
132
TRUE LOVE.
And dost thou ask me to express my love?
Alas! it soars my struggling powers above!
But since thou will'st it, fondly will I seek
That more than feeling—more than life—to speak.
Alas! it soars my struggling powers above!
But since thou will'st it, fondly will I seek
That more than feeling—more than life—to speak.
In thy prosperity—strict watch and ward
Still will I keep, thy precious weal to guard;
And in this anxious service—but in this
Place all my worldly, all my wished-for bliss!
Still will I keep, thy precious weal to guard;
And in this anxious service—but in this
Place all my worldly, all my wished-for bliss!
In thine adversity—if—fearful thought—
Life's harsher lessons thou must yet be taught;
Closelier will I cling round thee,—evermore—
As the ivy round the oak when storm-blasts roar.
Life's harsher lessons thou must yet be taught;
Closelier will I cling round thee,—evermore—
As the ivy round the oak when storm-blasts roar.
133
If this ungrateful world should thee desert,
Since ah! beware, 'tis hollow at the heart;
I will make up for all the Love thou hast lost,
And in thy worst distress adore thee most.
Since ah! beware, 'tis hollow at the heart;
I will make up for all the Love thou hast lost,
And in thy worst distress adore thee most.
I'll doat on thee when All beside deny—
When All forsake thee—yet will I not fly—
When All frown on thee—I will fondlier smile,
And more respect thee when the rest revile.
When All forsake thee—yet will I not fly—
When All frown on thee—I will fondlier smile,
And more respect thee when the rest revile.
Thro' gloom, thro' grief, thro' scorn, reproach, neglect,
I will more follow thee—and more affect;
I will be All in truth that others seem—
Why!—this is Love—the rest's an idle dream!
I will more follow thee—and more affect;
I will be All in truth that others seem—
Why!—this is Love—the rest's an idle dream!
134
OH! THAT I COULD BUT LOOK ON THEE!
Oh! that I could but look on thee,
But dare to meet those dangerous eyes;
My passion—mine idolatry
That solace grievously denies.
But dare to meet those dangerous eyes;
My passion—mine idolatry
That solace grievously denies.
I envy—how I envy those
Who can meet steadfastly thy look,
To a refinement in my woes,
That such I cannot, dare not brook.
Who can meet steadfastly thy look,
To a refinement in my woes,
That such I cannot, dare not brook.
There's such an Echo in my heart;
Thy voice to me is almost lost!
Ah, see!—Beloved One, that thou art,
What pains my least light pleasures cost!
Thy voice to me is almost lost!
Ah, see!—Beloved One, that thou art,
What pains my least light pleasures cost!
135
If I but once confront thy glance,
My very soul seems whirled away
In some strange agonizing trance,
And wrenched from its yet throbbing clay!
My very soul seems whirled away
In some strange agonizing trance,
And wrenched from its yet throbbing clay!
Like one without or soul or sense—
In thy dear Presence, Love—I seem
Victim of Passion too intense,
That freezes up Existence' Stream.
In thy dear Presence, Love—I seem
Victim of Passion too intense,
That freezes up Existence' Stream.
Yes! with a weight of death and frost,
On its wild pulses, lies my heart;
And soul, and sense, and life seem lost—
Till—doom yet worse than death—we part!
On its wild pulses, lies my heart;
And soul, and sense, and life seem lost—
Till—doom yet worse than death—we part!
136
THE BIRTH OF LOVE.
What mean they—those who speak of Love
As having reigned throughout all years;
Created by the Heaven above,
In one bright birth with yonder spheres?
As having reigned throughout all years;
Created by the Heaven above,
In one bright birth with yonder spheres?
It could not be! 'twas with thy birth
Alone the Heavenly power was born:
It came alone—with thee to Earth,
And ye had one sweet natal morn!
Alone the Heavenly power was born:
It came alone—with thee to Earth,
And ye had one sweet natal morn!
Ah! me—how could they dare pretend—
'Twas passion that they felt of old;
Ere Nature to the world did lend
Thee—paragon of matchless mould?
'Twas passion that they felt of old;
Ere Nature to the world did lend
Thee—paragon of matchless mould?
137
How jealous-angry feel I now
'Gainst all that ever dared to think
The Fates could thus on them bestow
That costly cup—'tis Heaven to drink!
'Gainst all that ever dared to think
The Fates could thus on them bestow
That costly cup—'tis Heaven to drink!
How jealous-angry do I feel
'Gainst all that ever dared to dream
That Rapture fate to them could deal,
Unless a faint Prophetic gleam!
'Gainst all that ever dared to dream
That Rapture fate to them could deal,
Unless a faint Prophetic gleam!
A faint prophetic glimpse and gleam
Of an Emotion yet to be—
For surely such it well might seem—
How could they love that ne'er saw Thee?
Of an Emotion yet to be—
For surely such it well might seem—
How could they love that ne'er saw Thee?
A vague, mysterious, dubious sense—
Of a deep feeling yet unknown—
While hung the world in strange suspense—
Ere that bright mystery's truth was shown!
Of a deep feeling yet unknown—
While hung the world in strange suspense—
Ere that bright mystery's truth was shown!
138
A dim and dreamy ante-past
Of that—they were not doomed to know,
Yet happy in the faint light cast—
Thus—o'er their dreary path below!
Of that—they were not doomed to know,
Yet happy in the faint light cast—
Thus—o'er their dreary path below!
But Love, in all its truth and might,
Was never known nor felt before—
Without the Sun could they have light?
Without the Sea its pearly store?
Was never known nor felt before—
Without the Sun could they have light?
Without the Sea its pearly store?
No! think it not—'tis false—'tis vain;
None—none were ever loved but thee;
And, Idol of my heart and brain,
None shall dare love thee now—but me.
None—none were ever loved but thee;
And, Idol of my heart and brain,
None shall dare love thee now—but me.
139
THE ADIEU.
Now, now, because the foolish careless crowd
Proclaim—alas! thy love for me aloud;
Thou thus can'st slight me, Cruel, and can'st scorn
And leave me hapless, fated, and forlorn.
Proclaim—alas! thy love for me aloud;
Thou thus can'st slight me, Cruel, and can'st scorn
And leave me hapless, fated, and forlorn.
But no! thou shalt not long with wounded pride
Struggle that miscalled love to crush or hide—
One sigh—Farewell!—one look—and I am gone—
Forgive the many—and forget the One!
Struggle that miscalled love to crush or hide—
One sigh—Farewell!—one look—and I am gone—
Forgive the many—and forget the One!
140
THE PICTURE.
Like the fond Corinthian maid,
Thy bright likeness, love, I trace—
Every feature shines displayed;
Every feature of thy face!
Thy bright likeness, love, I trace—
Every feature shines displayed;
Every feature of thy face!
But, alas!—more painful far—
Mine's a more laborious part—
Throbbing-quick my tablets are—
Still I trace it on my heart!
Mine's a more laborious part—
Throbbing-quick my tablets are—
Still I trace it on my heart!
Like the fond Corinthian still
I thy likeness—love! design—
With Devotion's care and skill;
Till the work's like thee—divine!
I thy likeness—love! design—
With Devotion's care and skill;
Till the work's like thee—divine!
But, alas!—once, once she drew—
That form she lived but to adore;
I my labour still renew—
Ten hundred thousand times and more!
That form she lived but to adore;
I my labour still renew—
Ten hundred thousand times and more!
141
THE DEFEAT.
Oft have I striven 'gainst adverse fate,
And oft have I victorious been—
And moved—triumphant and elate
Through many a desolated scene!
And oft have I victorious been—
And moved—triumphant and elate
Through many a desolated scene!
But, now—I fear—I fear—for now,
Dire odds against me seem to be;
How can I choose but yield and bow
To Fate—and conquering Love—and Thee?
Dire odds against me seem to be;
How can I choose but yield and bow
To Fate—and conquering Love—and Thee?
142
MANUEL TO INEZ.
Dark thy lash lies drooping low,
Let it shroud the deep eye under:
When I gaze on thee—sweet foe!
Lest I die with wonder.
Let it shroud the deep eye under:
When I gaze on thee—sweet foe!
Lest I die with wonder.
Every look those dear eyes dart,
Some wandering thought of mine must capture;
Oh! begone from me—depart!—
Lest I die with Rapture!
Some wandering thought of mine must capture;
Oh! begone from me—depart!—
Lest I die with Rapture!
Most perfect of all living forms,
Shaped in too consummate fashion,
Veil that glance that thrills, that warms,
Lest I die with Passion!
Shaped in too consummate fashion,
Veil that glance that thrills, that warms,
Lest I die with Passion!
Beauty—Grace—thy handmaids be—
Made for thee—all hearts to capture—
And for all who look on thee—
Were Passion—Wonder—made and Rapture!
Made for thee—all hearts to capture—
And for all who look on thee—
Were Passion—Wonder—made and Rapture!
143
I LOVE THEE IN ALL WAYS.
I love thee in all ways, in all degrees,
My Soul dost thou so wildly, wholly seize!
I love thee in each measure, in each kind,
With soul, and life, and strength, and heart, and mind!
My Soul dost thou so wildly, wholly seize!
I love thee in each measure, in each kind,
With soul, and life, and strength, and heart, and mind!
All earthly feelings, Love, for thee I feel,
Quick Adoration's fire—Devotion's zeal;
The melting warmth of softest tenderness,
And wild keen Passion's uncontrolled excess!
Quick Adoration's fire—Devotion's zeal;
The melting warmth of softest tenderness,
And wild keen Passion's uncontrolled excess!
Bright Friendship's steady and untroubled flow,
And deep-sown Sympathy's mysterious glow;
And yet a Love, far, far beyond all these—
I love thee past all measures and degrees!
And deep-sown Sympathy's mysterious glow;
And yet a Love, far, far beyond all these—
I love thee past all measures and degrees!
144
REMEMBER ME, AND FORGET ME.
To thee I pray, to thee I sue,
Remember and forget me too,—
If ever I thy heart could move,
Remember—and forget me Love!
Remember and forget me too,—
If ever I thy heart could move,
Remember—and forget me Love!
When none beside are sweetly near,
To answer back thy smile or tear;
When none beside companion thee,
Dearest, Oh! deign remember me.
To answer back thy smile or tear;
When none beside companion thee,
Dearest, Oh! deign remember me.
When bowed with melancholy hours,
A wanderer 'mid forsaken bowers,
With none to love, and none to bless,
Call upon me in thy distress.
A wanderer 'mid forsaken bowers,
With none to love, and none to bless,
Call upon me in thy distress.
145
When thou would'st seek, and seek in vain,
Some solace for thy heart's sick pain,
And that the thought a balm might be,
Oh! then remember love and me.
Some solace for thy heart's sick pain,
And that the thought a balm might be,
Oh! then remember love and me.
When thou hast little need of aught
To soothe thy heart, tò cheer thy thought,
Amid the noisy haunts of men,
Forget me—Oh! forget me then.
To soothe thy heart, tò cheer thy thought,
Amid the noisy haunts of men,
Forget me—Oh! forget me then.
146
WHENEVER THOU REMEMBEREST ME.
Whenever thou rememberest me,
Remember my true love for thee;
That deep and fond and faithful love,
Which years nor distance can remove.
Remember my true love for thee;
That deep and fond and faithful love,
Which years nor distance can remove.
Forget not thou my heart's strong faith—
Fervent as Life, and strong as Death—
Still, still devoted in distress,
And patient in its passionateness.
Fervent as Life, and strong as Death—
Still, still devoted in distress,
And patient in its passionateness.
Repressing jealousy and doubt,
Which love ne'er yet was felt without;
Lest these should cloud thy dearer joy,
Lest these should cross thee with annoy.
Which love ne'er yet was felt without;
Lest these should cloud thy dearer joy,
Lest these should cross thee with annoy.
147
Remember how I lived for thee,
And gloried thus thy slave to be;—
Lived upon every breath and word
That passed those blessed lips adored.
And gloried thus thy slave to be;—
Lived upon every breath and word
That passed those blessed lips adored.
Remember mine unwearying care
Thy sorrows or thy joys to share;
Remember mine unvarying truth,
The deep devotion of my youth.
Thy sorrows or thy joys to share;
Remember mine unvarying truth,
The deep devotion of my youth.
Remember my fond arts and wiles
To call back to thy cheek—its smiles;
My toils to serve, my cares to please,
Remember this—Remember these!
To call back to thy cheek—its smiles;
My toils to serve, my cares to please,
Remember this—Remember these!
Remember this—Remember these!
I pray thee love—on bended knees—
Oh! still when thou rememberest me,
Remember my fond Love for thee!
I pray thee love—on bended knees—
Oh! still when thou rememberest me,
Remember my fond Love for thee!
148
AND ART THOU GONE?
And art thou gone—thou dear One—gone?
And I in sorrow and alone—
The Sun may brightly shine to-day,
Reluctantly I meet each ray.
And I in sorrow and alone—
The Sun may brightly shine to-day,
Reluctantly I meet each ray.
Each ray that shining seems to throw
A fuller light upon my woe!
And, like a gilded shaft, to smite
My heart through my tear-troubled sight.
A fuller light upon my woe!
And, like a gilded shaft, to smite
My heart through my tear-troubled sight.
And Oh! there is excuse for tears—
As by a chasmy gulf of years
We're severed now, and torn apart—
There is no dial for the heart!
As by a chasmy gulf of years
We're severed now, and torn apart—
There is no dial for the heart!
Rent by the keenly-furrowing plough
Of Absence, moments yawn and grow
To nameless portions of dull Time,
And mock his measure and his chime.
Of Absence, moments yawn and grow
To nameless portions of dull Time,
And mock his measure and his chime.
149
'TIS DONE.
'Tis done! and the dream and its triumphs are o'er—
But not so with the pang, and the rage, and the fever!—
Must I now not for ever unceasing deplore,
Is my wretchedness sealed not for ever and ever?
But not so with the pang, and the rage, and the fever!—
Must I now not for ever unceasing deplore,
Is my wretchedness sealed not for ever and ever?
Wherever I turn, I but meet with dismay,
The Day is one twilight of shadows and hazes;
The Night, in its gloomy and solemn array,
One Chaos of clouds and of phantoms and mazes.
The Day is one twilight of shadows and hazes;
The Night, in its gloomy and solemn array,
One Chaos of clouds and of phantoms and mazes.
'Tis done! and the Dream and its triumphs are o'er—
But not so with the Memory, the Unrest and the Sorrow—
My heart's fond cry is still—“shall I cease to deplore?”
While Despair sees to-day but renewed in to-morrow!
But not so with the Memory, the Unrest and the Sorrow—
My heart's fond cry is still—“shall I cease to deplore?”
While Despair sees to-day but renewed in to-morrow!
150
FRIEND, GENTLEST FRIEND.
Friend—gentlest Friend—still turn thine eye,
On Nature's charms, seek her the most,
So shall with kindling pulse beat high
Thy young warm heart, by fears uncrost.
On Nature's charms, seek her the most,
So shall with kindling pulse beat high
Thy young warm heart, by fears uncrost.
Be thine her stars, her flowers, her springs,
The glory spread o'er every part;
The poetry her aspect brings,
Unto the quick and watchful heart.
The glory spread o'er every part;
The poetry her aspect brings,
Unto the quick and watchful heart.
Yet ah!—'tis vain—for well I know
How deeply, brightly, was enshrined,
Before my slavery and my woe,
That more than passion in my mind!
How deeply, brightly, was enshrined,
Before my slavery and my woe,
That more than passion in my mind!
151
Alas! the love of lovely things,
Of stars, flowers, sunshine, music, birds,
Of smiling skies, and silvery springs,
And Poetry's own magic words.
Of stars, flowers, sunshine, music, birds,
Of smiling skies, and silvery springs,
And Poetry's own magic words.
Alas! the love of these shields not
From pain and sorrow and dismay,
Or less unhappy were my lot,
Less lowering were my life's brief day!
From pain and sorrow and dismay,
Or less unhappy were my lot,
Less lowering were my life's brief day!
We love—we love—but I know well,
That when the heart's engrossed—enchained,
Those thousand loves but strengthening swell
The one Love, deeply there contained!
That when the heart's engrossed—enchained,
Those thousand loves but strengthening swell
The one Love, deeply there contained!
152
SELF GOVERNMENT.
Oh! what is this dangerous tampering with peace,
What means, foolish heart, thy perplexed hesitation?
Let the dream, the delusion pass over and cease,
Or is't, thou false, vain, fevered brain, thy creation?
What means, foolish heart, thy perplexed hesitation?
Let the dream, the delusion pass over and cease,
Or is't, thou false, vain, fevered brain, thy creation?
What means this wild trouble—what mean these fond sighs?
This hurrying confusion—this dreamy distraction?
Even now let me rend this dim veil from mine eyes,
And plunge in the World of Adventure and Action!
This hurrying confusion—this dreamy distraction?
Even now let me rend this dim veil from mine eyes,
And plunge in the World of Adventure and Action!
These Phantasies nursed but in idlesse and calm,
The breath of Exertion shall speedily banish,
And the stormiest and roughest of Showers were but balm,
Could they bid these strange Visions fade swiftly and vanish.
The breath of Exertion shall speedily banish,
And the stormiest and roughest of Showers were but balm,
Could they bid these strange Visions fade swiftly and vanish.
153
Then arise, weak and rash One, be strong, tutored heart,
And cast to the winds all these follies and fancies,
Loftier things seek to learn!—try a far worthier part!—
'Tis Self-government still that all gladness enhances!
And cast to the winds all these follies and fancies,
Loftier things seek to learn!—try a far worthier part!—
'Tis Self-government still that all gladness enhances!
Yes! away with these vapourous chimæras and vain—
Away with winged Fancy's too high-wrought effusions;
Let me subject them now unto Reason's stern reign,
And check this dark inroad of dreams and illusions!
Away with winged Fancy's too high-wrought effusions;
Let me subject them now unto Reason's stern reign,
And check this dark inroad of dreams and illusions!
Oh! if many would pause at the first fatal signs
Of Danger and Harm—at the opening and onset,
Life's Firmament then, that still changefully shines,
Might not darken and threaten so ofttimes at Sunset!
Of Danger and Harm—at the opening and onset,
Life's Firmament then, that still changefully shines,
Might not darken and threaten so ofttimes at Sunset!
154
TO TELL THEE THAT I LOVE THEE AND TO DIE.
It was a lovely Maiden, wan and pale,
Her mournful aspect told her mournful tale,
Grief was stamped deeply on that pallid face,
And on her fragile form's slight willowy grace.
She wandered hither—thither—resting not,
As ill at ease in every different spot,
As seeking, ever seeking something still,
With Hope as blank as Disappointment's chill;
Or flying, ever flying, something there,
To meet at every turn a new despair.
So hied she hither, thither—now she gazed
Wildly, as though at her own grief amazed;
And now she fixed her dimmed eyes on the ground,
As though she could not—dared not look around.
Then, on the sudden, clasping her pale hands,
And standing as some mournful statue stands,
A Niobe, or Ariadne—lone—
For ever saddening in eternal stone!
She burst into a low, faint, earnest strain,
As though its passion could subdue her pain.
Her mournful aspect told her mournful tale,
Grief was stamped deeply on that pallid face,
And on her fragile form's slight willowy grace.
She wandered hither—thither—resting not,
As ill at ease in every different spot,
As seeking, ever seeking something still,
With Hope as blank as Disappointment's chill;
Or flying, ever flying, something there,
To meet at every turn a new despair.
So hied she hither, thither—now she gazed
Wildly, as though at her own grief amazed;
And now she fixed her dimmed eyes on the ground,
As though she could not—dared not look around.
155
And standing as some mournful statue stands,
A Niobe, or Ariadne—lone—
For ever saddening in eternal stone!
She burst into a low, faint, earnest strain,
As though its passion could subdue her pain.
“To tell thee that I love thee—oh! to tell thee this and die!
This is my Soul's one fervent wish, my Heart's eternal cry!
I love thee—aye! I love thee, and thou know'st not—dream'st it not,
Nor thinkest of all my maddening pangs, nor pitiest my lorn lot.
This is my Soul's one fervent wish, my Heart's eternal cry!
I love thee—aye! I love thee, and thou know'st not—dream'st it not,
Nor thinkest of all my maddening pangs, nor pitiest my lorn lot.
“How torturingly—how torturingly—those pangs wound this racked brain,
This wrung and heavy heart of love—of wretchedness and pain,
I have dragged through the dull languor of such dark, chill, mortal hours,
As have enfeebled soul and mind, and all their withering powers.
This wrung and heavy heart of love—of wretchedness and pain,
I have dragged through the dull languor of such dark, chill, mortal hours,
As have enfeebled soul and mind, and all their withering powers.
156
“I have watched my very life's life melt, and fade, and waste away,
With a conscious and a certain, but a long, cold, slow decay!
To tell thee that I love thee—but to tell thee this and die,
When I've read one answering meaning in thy deep, dark, glorious eye!
With a conscious and a certain, but a long, cold, slow decay!
To tell thee that I love thee—but to tell thee this and die,
When I've read one answering meaning in thy deep, dark, glorious eye!
“To press thy hand unto my lips—to my fading lips and heart,
And to that pressure sweetly feel my ebbing life depart;
A change—a deep and sudden change—even then, and thus to prove,
Forgetting then to live—yet not forgetting thus to love!
And to that pressure sweetly feel my ebbing life depart;
A change—a deep and sudden change—even then, and thus to prove,
Forgetting then to live—yet not forgetting thus to love!
“To see the world sink fast away, and pass off from my gaze,
And still thine image to retain, thro' all the gathering haze;
Oh! in thine ear, thy pitying ear, to breathe my last long sigh,
To tell thee that I love thee, and then, even in telling, die!”
And still thine image to retain, thro' all the gathering haze;
Oh! in thine ear, thy pitying ear, to breathe my last long sigh,
To tell thee that I love thee, and then, even in telling, die!”
157
A pause—methought the Maiden's wish was crowned,
And that, while Fancy's haunting shapes gleamed round,
And haply rose before her fevered eye
Her lover's form, and stood fair imaged by.
She deemed she had that secret love betrayed,
Long nursed in silence, solitude, and shade;
Then found the fate she had so prayed, so sought,
And raptured—died upon the very thought!
While in that passionate burst, her sorrows ceased,
And her soul parted, lightened, and released.
But once again the plaintive sounds I heard,
With more of faultering weakness in each word;
More choaked, more hollow, came the tearful tone,
A low swan-music—death in every moan!
And that, while Fancy's haunting shapes gleamed round,
And haply rose before her fevered eye
Her lover's form, and stood fair imaged by.
She deemed she had that secret love betrayed,
Long nursed in silence, solitude, and shade;
Then found the fate she had so prayed, so sought,
And raptured—died upon the very thought!
While in that passionate burst, her sorrows ceased,
And her soul parted, lightened, and released.
But once again the plaintive sounds I heard,
With more of faultering weakness in each word;
More choaked, more hollow, came the tearful tone,
A low swan-music—death in every moan!
“To tell thee that I love thee, and to die!
Can iron Fate itself that prayer deny?
To ask but this, and yet have this denied—
For this to sigh, and vainly to have sighed!
I am so lessoned and so lost in woe—
Oh! I can weave no brighter dream below—
I dwell on this until it seems the excess,
The crown and height of all earth's happiness.
My soul hath but one wish, my heart one cry,—
To tell thee that I love thee, and to die!”
Can iron Fate itself that prayer deny?
To ask but this, and yet have this denied—
For this to sigh, and vainly to have sighed!
I am so lessoned and so lost in woe—
Oh! I can weave no brighter dream below—
158
The crown and height of all earth's happiness.
My soul hath but one wish, my heart one cry,—
To tell thee that I love thee, and to die!”
She paused—and Echo answered, with faint sigh,
O! treacherous counsellor and gloomy—“die!”
O! treacherous counsellor and gloomy—“die!”
'Twas thus she wailed in Sorrow's choicest tone,
Till felt the hearer like herself—undone.
Till felt the hearer like herself—undone.
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