Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems By the Lady E. Stuart Wortley. In Three Vols |
 | I, II, III. |
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SONG OF THE DYING. |
 | Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems |  |
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SONG OF THE DYING.
Now, now a power seems given to wood and hill,
To charm my spirit, and detain it still;
The lull of dewy calms unnerves my mind,
A voice of love breathes in each leaf enshrined;
Beauty round all my paths in smiles seems starting,
While I am hence reluctantly departing.
To charm my spirit, and detain it still;
The lull of dewy calms unnerves my mind,
A voice of love breathes in each leaf enshrined;
Beauty round all my paths in smiles seems starting,
While I am hence reluctantly departing.
There is a purer azure in the air,
And in the sky a sunshine yet more fair
Than e'er enchanted my rapt gaze before;
'Tis that I soon must look on these no more:
Bright Summer at the rose's heart is burning,
And I am for my own dark sentence mourning!—
And in the sky a sunshine yet more fair
Than e'er enchanted my rapt gaze before;
'Tis that I soon must look on these no more:
Bright Summer at the rose's heart is burning,
And I am for my own dark sentence mourning!—
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'Tis with bewildered, agonizing gaze
I meet the fresh wild Morning's joyous blaze:
She comes triumphant over earth and sea,
And brings a gift of hope to all but me!
I meet her happy singing, but with sighing—
All things seem living most while I am dying.
I meet the fresh wild Morning's joyous blaze:
She comes triumphant over earth and sea,
And brings a gift of hope to all but me!
I meet her happy singing, but with sighing—
All things seem living most while I am dying.
Birds, flowers, and streams, how seem'd ye once to bring
To me new life!—while every common thing
That wore fair Nature's summer-beauty, then
Filled me with joy I ne'er may know again:
Now I but mark, disconsolate and grieving,
This beauty of the world that I am leaving!—
To me new life!—while every common thing
That wore fair Nature's summer-beauty, then
Filled me with joy I ne'er may know again:
Now I but mark, disconsolate and grieving,
This beauty of the world that I am leaving!—
Smile on, gay Summer! in your beauty smile,
Though not my languid spirits to beguile;
Others there are whose hearts sweet Hope yet buoys,
That revel gladly in thy glowing joys;
For them smile on!—that grave, where I am going,
Peace on my soul shall be ere long bestowing.
Though not my languid spirits to beguile;
Others there are whose hearts sweet Hope yet buoys,
That revel gladly in thy glowing joys;
For them smile on!—that grave, where I am going,
Peace on my soul shall be ere long bestowing.
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Smile on, gay Summer—smile for others still!
Young hearts beat buoyant on the breezy hill;
And tearless eyes are gazing on the streams,
To see reflected there their own glad dreams—
Triumphant in their magical transcendence,
The Heaven of e'en that summer Heaven's resplendence.
Young hearts beat buoyant on the breezy hill;
And tearless eyes are gazing on the streams,
To see reflected there their own glad dreams—
Triumphant in their magical transcendence,
The Heaven of e'en that summer Heaven's resplendence.
Smile, smile, gay summer, still! and brightly bloom
For those yet distant from the engulphing tomb:
For me—though fading in my sunny years—
I ask no murmuring sighs, I crave no tears:
Vain are such tributes of a fruitless mourning,
Since to my native Earth no sweet returning!
For those yet distant from the engulphing tomb:
For me—though fading in my sunny years—
I ask no murmuring sighs, I crave no tears:
Vain are such tributes of a fruitless mourning,
Since to my native Earth no sweet returning!
No sweet returning may there be for me!
Once launched upon Eternity's dread sea.—
Farewell, dear World of beauty and of joy!
My love for thee Death only shall destroy.
Why should I wish aught living should lament me?
One blessing from thy lip, Love! shall content me.
Once launched upon Eternity's dread sea.—
Farewell, dear World of beauty and of joy!
My love for thee Death only shall destroy.
Why should I wish aught living should lament me?
One blessing from thy lip, Love! shall content me.
| Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems | |