 | Lays of Leisure Hours |  |
418
EARTH IS PITILESS.
If Sorrow overtake us here
In this harsh World, the bleak and drear,
Then are we left to mourn alone,
To make in solitude our moan!
In this harsh World, the bleak and drear,
Then are we left to mourn alone,
To make in solitude our moan!
The proud, the thoughtless, and the gay
Press onwards on their prosperous way,
With eager hope they onwards press,
And leave us to our weariness.
Press onwards on their prosperous way,
With eager hope they onwards press,
And leave us to our weariness.
Aye! burdened with a weary mind,
Unpitied we are left behind,
By sickness of the Soul bowed down,
With little comfort for our own.
Unpitied we are left behind,
By sickness of the Soul bowed down,
With little comfort for our own.
419
We feel we are deserted here
On this harsh hollow World and drear,
And vainly look, for none are nigh
Our needs—our solace to supply.
On this harsh hollow World and drear,
And vainly look, for none are nigh
Our needs—our solace to supply.
Then do we grasp the empty air,
Or hug our own o'erwrought despair,
Since nought for us remains on Earth
But its worst darkness and its dearth.
Or hug our own o'erwrought despair,
Since nought for us remains on Earth
But its worst darkness and its dearth.
Then, then that last resource—the Grave
Full oft, as our sole good we crave,
And with the arrow in his breast
The doomed one seeketh for his rest.
Full oft, as our sole good we crave,
And with the arrow in his breast
The doomed one seeketh for his rest.
Our dear Companions of the Past
All from our view have vanished fast,
Each on his shining path is gone,
And we are left to sink alone!
All from our view have vanished fast,
Each on his shining path is gone,
And we are left to sink alone!
420
Like the Indian Woman left to die
In lone and helpless misery,
When faints her Soul and fails her strength
On the laborious march—at length!
In lone and helpless misery,
When faints her Soul and fails her strength
On the laborious march—at length!
Like the Indian Woman left to die
In desolate despondency,
Her heavy eyes still straining far
To gaze where her beloved ones are.
In desolate despondency,
Her heavy eyes still straining far
To gaze where her beloved ones are.
None linger by her death-bed cold,
Her death-bed and her grave—Earth's mould—
None, none with kind compassion wait,
Till stricken falls the blow of Fate.
Her death-bed and her grave—Earth's mould—
None, none with kind compassion wait,
Till stricken falls the blow of Fate.
Her last convulsive broken sigh—
The close of all her agony—
With the receding footsteps blends
The footsteps of her faithless friends
The close of all her agony—
With the receding footsteps blends
The footsteps of her faithless friends
421
Or happly with the lowering tones
Of her own dearly cherished ones—
While each along the pathway hies,
Nor turns to weep o'er her who dies!
Of her own dearly cherished ones—
While each along the pathway hies,
Nor turns to weep o'er her who dies!
Or like the outwearied Soldier left—
Of energy and hope bereft—
In some forced march of fearful length,
Deprived of power, and shorn of strength.
Of energy and hope bereft—
In some forced march of fearful length,
Deprived of power, and shorn of strength.
Oh! better far the rage of war,
The battle's terrors better far,
Than this deserted desperate doom,
This sinking piecemeal to the tomb!
The battle's terrors better far,
Than this deserted desperate doom,
This sinking piecemeal to the tomb!
The trampling of the host he hears,
Catches the bickering light of spears,
Then sees at last the long array
Fade in the horizon—slow away.
Catches the bickering light of spears,
Then sees at last the long array
Fade in the horizon—slow away.
422
And of his ancient comrades none
Remain to soothe the hopeless one,
To breathe some parting words of cheer
Or love in his unsolaced ear.
Remain to soothe the hopeless one,
To breathe some parting words of cheer
Or love in his unsolaced ear.
Even so it is with us, when we,
Oh! Grief! are smitten sore by thee,
When we sink down by ills o'erborne,
Wasted and wearied—wrung and worn!
Oh! Grief! are smitten sore by thee,
When we sink down by ills o'erborne,
Wasted and wearied—wrung and worn!
Alas! it is with us even so,
When we are crushed by Mortal Woe,
When we are in our worst distress
Who stops to soothe—to cheer—to bless?
When we are crushed by Mortal Woe,
When we are in our worst distress
Who stops to soothe—to cheer—to bless?
Doth then remain to us one friend
To help or guide—to watch or tend?—
No! all are hastening hurrying on,
Forgetful of the stricken One.
To help or guide—to watch or tend?—
No! all are hastening hurrying on,
Forgetful of the stricken One.
423
Each hath some darling hope in view,
Some favourite object to pursue;
All are urged on unto the close,
Still lured by things that bar repose.
Some favourite object to pursue;
All are urged on unto the close,
Still lured by things that bar repose.
In vain we breathe the imploring prayer,
'Tis lost in the unconscious air,
In vain our suppliant hands we raise,
And lift a long and yearning gaze—
'Tis lost in the unconscious air,
In vain our suppliant hands we raise,
And lift a long and yearning gaze—
No heart by that vain prayer is stirred,
The feeble wail is scarcely heard,
Amidst the unceasing din, and loud
The clamour of the restless crowd!
The feeble wail is scarcely heard,
Amidst the unceasing din, and loud
The clamour of the restless crowd!
Back on our hearts that prayer is sent,
And we with heavier grief are bent,
Darker and darker frowneth round
The iron doom wherein we're bound.
And we with heavier grief are bent,
Darker and darker frowneth round
The iron doom wherein we're bound.
424
Ah! cease complaint's fond cry to raise,
He prays in vain who weakly prays
For pity or for mercy here,
They dwell within a distant sphere!
He prays in vain who weakly prays
For pity or for mercy here,
They dwell within a distant sphere!
Look round!—are all not hurrying on
As some fair goal was to be won?
All, all are wrapt in some dear dream,
Devoted to some smiling scheme—
As some fair goal was to be won?
All, all are wrapt in some dear dream,
Devoted to some smiling scheme—
No time have they to spare for those
Who faint beneath the weight of woes,
And yet they might, could they foresee
How useless their fond haste must be.
Who faint beneath the weight of woes,
And yet they might, could they foresee
How useless their fond haste must be.
Could they foresee their vain pursuit
Should have but ashes for its fruit,
For such, full oft becomes the fate
Of those who strive with hope elate!
Should have but ashes for its fruit,
For such, full oft becomes the fate
Of those who strive with hope elate!
425
But no! they may not this foresee—
They gather from the uncertainty
But keener hopes—but wilder zeal
Until their fate they haply seal!
They gather from the uncertainty
But keener hopes—but wilder zeal
Until their fate they haply seal!
And they in turn are left behind
With wounded heart and wearied mind,
By those who still are lured along
By hopes and passions deep and strong.
With wounded heart and wearied mind,
By those who still are lured along
By hopes and passions deep and strong.
And they deserted in their turn
Feel how the stricken heart can burn,
And in their turn they darkly know
How bitter is the draught of woe.
Feel how the stricken heart can burn,
And in their turn they darkly know
How bitter is the draught of woe.
Then comes the anguish and the fear,
And all is desolate and drear—
Awhile they struggle and they sigh,
Then earthwards drawn they droop and die.
And all is desolate and drear—
Awhile they struggle and they sigh,
Then earthwards drawn they droop and die.
426
But Oh! how proudly deeply blessed
Am I on Earth—beyond the rest—
What joys must with my sorrows blend
While thou art near—my Soul's own friend!
Am I on Earth—beyond the rest—
What joys must with my sorrows blend
While thou art near—my Soul's own friend!
That kind commiserating voice
Can bid me even in grief rejoice—
That dear consoling tone can charm
Away from me each sterner harm.
Can bid me even in grief rejoice—
That dear consoling tone can charm
Away from me each sterner harm.
That pitying sympathizing sigh
Can win me from despondency!
And Oh! that smile—that cheering smile
Can half my woes at once beguile!—
Can win me from despondency!
And Oh! that smile—that cheering smile
Can half my woes at once beguile!—
But when I see that brow of thine
(Where but unclouded peace should shine!)
For my sake darkened shadowed o'er—
For thy sake then I mourn no more!
(Where but unclouded peace should shine!)
For my sake darkened shadowed o'er—
For thy sake then I mourn no more!
427
For much is still in our own power—
(Through every varying trying hour)
Of self command and self controul,
And we full oft can rule the Soul!
(Through every varying trying hour)
Of self command and self controul,
And we full oft can rule the Soul!
Find but a motive, deep and strong,
And Passion's wild tumultuous throng
Submits unto the yoke—the chain—
Ev'n Passion's fierce and fiery train!
And Passion's wild tumultuous throng
Submits unto the yoke—the chain—
Ev'n Passion's fierce and fiery train!
And Sorrow's pale retinue too
That pierce the wrung heart thro' and thro'.
Unto subjection can be brought—
And order and obedience taught.
That pierce the wrung heart thro' and thro'.
Unto subjection can be brought—
And order and obedience taught.
And Oh! can there a motive be
More mighty than my love for thee,
Which prompts the wish thy heart to spare
From every dream of pain and care.
More mighty than my love for thee,
Which prompts the wish thy heart to spare
From every dream of pain and care.
428
It makes my very Happiness—
(Which most that generous heart can bless)
Like a sweet sacred duty still
That I am called on to fulfill.
(Which most that generous heart can bless)
Like a sweet sacred duty still
That I am called on to fulfill.
And happy, happy I must be,
Loved of my Soul! when near to thee,
Dire must the blow be—dark the grief,
To which thy love brings no relief!
Loved of my Soul! when near to thee,
Dire must the blow be—dark the grief,
To which thy love brings no relief!
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