Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems By the Lady E. Stuart Wortley. In Three Vols |
 | I, II, III. |
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TO THE WINDS. |
 | Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems |  |
172
TO THE WINDS.
Sing loud, sing low, ye changeful Winds!
Ye sing one tune to me—
Couched in one dull and saddening strain—
Pitched in one mournful key!—
Ye sing one tune to me—
Couched in one dull and saddening strain—
Pitched in one mournful key!—
Sing loud, sing low, ye can but teach
The same dark, heavy truth—
Which I too long before have known—
Nor now need learn, in sooth!
The same dark, heavy truth—
Which I too long before have known—
Nor now need learn, in sooth!
Ye can but teach me that my heart
Responds to all sad tones—
With echoes passionate and deep
As wretches' dying moans.
Responds to all sad tones—
With echoes passionate and deep
As wretches' dying moans.
173
Ye can but teach me that my soul
Is Sorrow's veriest slave,
And prizeth all things but as they
Her solemn impress have.
Is Sorrow's veriest slave,
And prizeth all things but as they
Her solemn impress have.
Sing loud, sing low, ye hollow Winds—
Ye tell me nothing new—
And I have but the same old tale
To echo back to you!
Ye tell me nothing new—
And I have but the same old tale
To echo back to you!
Oh! nothing, nothing new on Earth
Hath e'er been known by me—
But dull reflections of the past—
My present feelings be!—
Hath e'er been known by me—
But dull reflections of the past—
My present feelings be!—
New sources of regret, 'tis true,
Prompt Fate officious sends—
I greet those strangers but to find
Mine old familiar friends.
Prompt Fate officious sends—
I greet those strangers but to find
Mine old familiar friends.
174
My hopes are halt—my griefs are grey—
My very thoughts are sere—
The freshest feelings that I know
Old as the world appear!
My very thoughts are sere—
The freshest feelings that I know
Old as the world appear!
Sing loud—sing low—ye shrill-voiced Winds,
'Tis all the same to me—
For wearied of the world within
And world without I be!
'Tis all the same to me—
For wearied of the world within
And world without I be!
Sing loud—sing low—ye cannot wake—
In my sepulchral heart,
But one dull echo,—dull and deep,
And that doth ne'er depart!
In my sepulchral heart,
But one dull echo,—dull and deep,
And that doth ne'er depart!
And hollow Winds!—ere many years
Have run their circling round,
(One comfortable thought lives still!)
E'en that shall cease to sound!
Have run their circling round,
(One comfortable thought lives still!)
E'en that shall cease to sound!
175
Ye may sing loud—sing low—then, Winds!—
May whisper or may rave;
Ye shall not wake one echo from
A nameless sufferer's grave!
May whisper or may rave;
Ye shall not wake one echo from
A nameless sufferer's grave!
| Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems | |