Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems By the Lady E. Stuart Wortley. In Three Vols |
 | I, II, III. |
 |
FROM “INEZ,” A MS. POEM. |
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 | Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems |  |
313
FROM “INEZ,” A MS. POEM.
Sorrows that wring the very heart,
Are now my portion and my part;
Fears, each more dreadful than the last,
Crowd on my fancy full and fast—
Regrets that all my Soul consume,
Hover like spectres round a tomb—
About my memory's haunted cell,
Peopled too widely and too well!
Hope is a faint remembered thing,
Far in the distance vanishing—
Joy seems a dream that once dreamed through,
No after effort can renew.
Peace is a slumber of the Soul,
From whose serene and soft controul
Escaping once, that Soul must bear
The burthen of a sleepless care.
Once from the awakened Spirit driven,
Sweet Peace flies to its Native Heaven,
And never more on Earth may lull
The Soul, of doubts, fears, troubles—full!
Are now my portion and my part;
Fears, each more dreadful than the last,
Crowd on my fancy full and fast—
Regrets that all my Soul consume,
Hover like spectres round a tomb—
About my memory's haunted cell,
Peopled too widely and too well!
Hope is a faint remembered thing,
Far in the distance vanishing—
Joy seems a dream that once dreamed through,
No after effort can renew.
Peace is a slumber of the Soul,
From whose serene and soft controul
Escaping once, that Soul must bear
The burthen of a sleepless care.
314
Sweet Peace flies to its Native Heaven,
And never more on Earth may lull
The Soul, of doubts, fears, troubles—full!
Hope, Joy, and Peace—farewell, farewell!
No more with ye I now must dwell;
But Sufferance, Pain, and Doubt, and Dread,
Must be my gloomy mates instead—
And welcome to my Soul ere they
That vex my Night and cloud my day,
Welcome, because from love they spring
Life's only pure and perfect thing—
Hope, Joy, and Peace—begone, depart—
Ye're nothing to my Mind and Heart
Compared with that enchanted dream,
Which gilds the Sun with added beam,
Which cloathes Creation with delight,
Howe'er the burning Soul it smite!—
Come every sorrow in excess,
Love still is his own happiness!
'Mid all his own o'er wrought despair,
Of boundless blessings is he heir—
For to himself he still must be
A Fountain of Felicity.
A happiness with naught beside
On Earth commingled or allied,
A Happiness unnamed on Earth,
E'en of the highest Heavenly birth.
Peace, Hope, and Joy, farewell, farewell!
No more with ye I wish to dwell—
I seek not now your charms to prove,
Oh! what are ye to Love—deep Love?
Sorrows, that never may depart,
That lacerate the very heart
With long, long torture, fierce but slow,
A dull monotony of woe—
Despairs that sting the Soul to death,
And leave of Life alone the breath!—
Fears each more fearful than the last,
Pass not! lest Love with ye fleet past!
No more with ye I now must dwell;
But Sufferance, Pain, and Doubt, and Dread,
Must be my gloomy mates instead—
And welcome to my Soul ere they
That vex my Night and cloud my day,
Welcome, because from love they spring
Life's only pure and perfect thing—
Hope, Joy, and Peace—begone, depart—
Ye're nothing to my Mind and Heart
Compared with that enchanted dream,
Which gilds the Sun with added beam,
Which cloathes Creation with delight,
Howe'er the burning Soul it smite!—
Come every sorrow in excess,
Love still is his own happiness!
315
Of boundless blessings is he heir—
For to himself he still must be
A Fountain of Felicity.
A happiness with naught beside
On Earth commingled or allied,
A Happiness unnamed on Earth,
E'en of the highest Heavenly birth.
Peace, Hope, and Joy, farewell, farewell!
No more with ye I wish to dwell—
I seek not now your charms to prove,
Oh! what are ye to Love—deep Love?
Sorrows, that never may depart,
That lacerate the very heart
With long, long torture, fierce but slow,
A dull monotony of woe—
Despairs that sting the Soul to death,
And leave of Life alone the breath!—
Fears each more fearful than the last,
Pass not! lest Love with ye fleet past!
| Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems | |