Sonnets written chiefly during a tour through Holland, Germany, Italy, Turkey, and Hungary. By Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley |
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SONNET.
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154
SONNET.
INEZ TO MANUEL.
Oh! I am weary of these thoughts!—that beOne servitude and slavery of the Soul!—
Dull,—dull and dismal as Death's hollow knoll!—
Others have life and feeling—but for me
No breath—no bliss—no being—save in thee!—
I scarcely feel in mine own feelings—dole
And sufferance wound my gloomy spirit's whole;
Yet these, my thoughts, for joy—joy full and free,
Mistake how madly!—all my thoughts are made
Mine own armed enemies; for still they wear
Mine arch-foe's stamp and image, clear-displayed!
And press me sorely to my worst despair!—
Weary—oh!—weary!—in Oblivion's shade
Let me lie down and die, as flowers that fall—fade—there!
Orsova.
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