University of Virginia Library

TO ---

I saw thee once, thou fair and lovely thing,
And trembled for thee—such rich gifts will bring
Upon thy fearless and uplifted head,
Those storms of fate, whose terrors still seem spread
Around the loveliest and the best below,
In this probationary State of Woe.—
I trembled for thee-but I trembled more
Because I saw thy brow of Beauty bore
The certain stamp of feelings too refined,
Yea—of too quick a heart—too deep a mind.
Those dark eyes streamed with overburthening thought,
That clear smooth cheek was all too richly fraught
With the warm light—the varying troubled light—
Of kindling Passion-blushes strangely bright—
That came and went—receded now, now rushed
With deeper glow, till thy whole aspect blushed!
I trembled for thee—Since too well I know
What thou art surely doomed to undergo
In this dark theatre of wrath and strife,
This World of trials—this o'ershadowed Life—
To natures sensitive as thine—how stern
Shall seem those lessons, all that live must learn
How bitter those beginnings of distrust
Which must be felt, by all whose life is dust!—
And then, and now, I felt and feel too much—
Most keenly—that Fate harshly deals with such—
Aye! such as thou—thy very charms appear
To mark thee out for a bright Victim here—
Apparelled proudly as with zealous care,
With costly pomp—as other Victims are.
Oh! Sorrow singles out things fair as thou,
With Beauty's living halo round their brow,
'Mongst her sad train of tearful gloom to be—
And 'mongst her pale and silent company,
Thou may'st be loved, fair matchless thing, thou must,
But not in love may Woman place her trust;
Thou must be loved, but Oh! that very love
(While thy warm heart shall deeply learn to prove
Responsive passion) may for thee become
The worst infliction and the darkest doom.
Thou must be loved, all beauteous as thou art,
Thou must be worshipped, as a thing apart,
An idol and a treasure—but alas!—
That wildest warmest love may wane and pass,
Not ev'n Perfection can its truth secure
In this dim life where things infirm, impure,
Mingle with all of noblest and of best,
Until too often they corrupt the rest—
And then, what anguish shall that heart subdue,
So quick, so warm, so feeling, and so true?
What fearful pangs shall pierce that lovely mind,
So tenderly and faultlessly refined?
How shall thine own deep feelings darkly grow
The truest source of suffering and of woe?
And all thy fair endowments, all thy powers
But make more torturing those long wasting hours
Of heart-sick cold suspense, or blighting fear,
Or pale despair that cannot shed a tear,
Till even thy richest gifts shall seem to be
The heaviest portion Fate hath stored for thee,
'Twas thoughts like these, that crowded on my mind
When first I saw thee artless yet refined,
Gentle but stately in thy lofty grace,
With all thy Soul of Beauty in thy face,
I trembled for thee then and turned away,
Lest that I might those mournful thoughts betray—
I trembled for thee then—I tremble now!
But to recall that bright and beaming brow,
That kindled earnest eye too much inspíred,
With rays too ardent and too restless fired—
That glowing cheek whose quick rich blushes past
In dazzling change, each lovelier than the last,
Must make me sighing tremble for thee still
With sad prophetic bodings, deep and chill,
All makes the Heart fear for the future doom
Of one so lovely with Love's dangerous bloom.
Oh! Earth, how dark, how mournful, must thou be,
Where thus we sigh and tremble, but to see
The fairest and most beauteous things that smile
Thy gloom away, and light thee for awhile.
While thus we sigh, and shudder, but to look
On forms too fair thy stormy hours to brook,
And turn from smiling Loveliness away
To weep o'er coming ruin's certain day.