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 LOST! |
 | Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems |  |
322
TO THE LOST!
Thou'rt sleeping in the quiet grave,
Through all my sorrows sleeping;
Thou mayst not hear the tempests rave!
But how hear'st thou not my weeping?
Through all my sorrows sleeping;
Thou mayst not hear the tempests rave!
But how hear'st thou not my weeping?
Deaf mayst thou be when thunders speak
And this shuddering Earth's replying;
But I marvel me thou shouldst not wake
At the low sound of my sighing!
And this shuddering Earth's replying;
But I marvel me thou shouldst not wake
At the low sound of my sighing!
Thou art resting in thy peaceful home,
In a sound, sound sleep reposing—
How is't, when I bewail my doom,
Thy lids are not unclosing?
In a sound, sound sleep reposing—
How is't, when I bewail my doom,
Thy lids are not unclosing?
323
That sleep is thine, the deep, the chill—
From whence is no awaking—
Yet, oh! how can thy heart lie still—
While mine, e'en now, is breaking?
From whence is no awaking—
Yet, oh! how can thy heart lie still—
While mine, e'en now, is breaking?
Thou'rt sleeping in thy silent grave,
Through all my sorrows sleeping;
Thou mayst not hear when tempests rave—
Thou shouldst hear my low weeping.
Through all my sorrows sleeping;
Thou mayst not hear when tempests rave—
Thou shouldst hear my low weeping.
Ah! wert thou free, and couldst thou hear,
To my faint heart returning,
How wouldst thou strive to soothe and cheer,
How fondly share its mourning!—
To my faint heart returning,
How wouldst thou strive to soothe and cheer,
How fondly share its mourning!—
So much thou lovedst me—well I know,
With my soul to be thus blending,
Thou wouldst once more dare mortal woe,
Though from heights of bliss descending!—
With my soul to be thus blending,
Thou wouldst once more dare mortal woe,
Though from heights of bliss descending!—
324
Frail, foolish thought! thy spirit bright,
A loftier knowledge shareth;
How vile would now be in thy sight,
The soul that here despaireth!
A loftier knowledge shareth;
How vile would now be in thy sight,
The soul that here despaireth!
Earth's little joys and little woes,
Its vanities and troubles—
Their worthlessness to thee disclose—
All, all but breaking bubbles.—
Its vanities and troubles—
Their worthlessness to thee disclose—
All, all but breaking bubbles.—
Thou know'st for us still chained in clay,
Weak heirs of fear and sorrow—
It is a moment's flight to-day—
Eternity to-morrow!—
Weak heirs of fear and sorrow—
It is a moment's flight to-day—
Eternity to-morrow!—
And shouldst thou not contemn indeed
The soul that piled its treasures—
In this World—(leaning on a reed,)
Slave to its pains and pleasures!—
The soul that piled its treasures—
In this World—(leaning on a reed,)
Slave to its pains and pleasures!—
325
Oh! dear to this unworthy Heart!
Beloved—and lovely being;
Let me not think that now thou art
My shame and weakness seeing!
Beloved—and lovely being;
Let me not think that now thou art
My shame and weakness seeing!
Our failings, our infirmities,
Our faults and follies nameless—
We call our griefs, and in our eyes
Ourselves are pure and blameless!
Our faults and follies nameless—
We call our griefs, and in our eyes
Ourselves are pure and blameless!
'Tis our vain wishes—weak desires—
And stubborn wrong endeavour,
That light within our souls those fires
Consuming us for ever!—
And stubborn wrong endeavour,
That light within our souls those fires
Consuming us for ever!—
We struggle still for vainest things,
And obstinately languish—
Poison our spirit's deepest springs,
And call our madness—anguish!
And obstinately languish—
Poison our spirit's deepest springs,
And call our madness—anguish!
326
We pass by blessings—thankless—blind—
Repining and resenting,
And bent with loveless, sullen mind,
On weak, unwise lamenting!—
Repining and resenting,
And bent with loveless, sullen mind,
On weak, unwise lamenting!—
At once I mark, with shame and pain,
My soul's unblest condition—
The dull, deep shadow and the stain—
With full and fond contrition!
My soul's unblest condition—
The dull, deep shadow and the stain—
With full and fond contrition!
Those griefs—which I thus idly named,
Were mine own soul's worst failings—
My sorrows by myself were framed,
Oh! shame on such bewailings!—
Were mine own soul's worst failings—
My sorrows by myself were framed,
Oh! shame on such bewailings!—
If all be not by us possessed,
Whose charm our eye entrances—
We deem we are aggrieved, oppressed—
Weak fools of our own fancies!—
Whose charm our eye entrances—
We deem we are aggrieved, oppressed—
Weak fools of our own fancies!—
327
We nurse the dreams of our distress—
And dwell in melancholy—
Our weakness is our wretchedness,
Our fate—our own vain folly!
And dwell in melancholy—
Our weakness is our wretchedness,
Our fate—our own vain folly!
Our blindness still we make our boast,
And boast we're discontented!
Those graceless thoughts we cherish most,
That should be most repented.—
And boast we're discontented!
Those graceless thoughts we cherish most,
That should be most repented.—
We call on all with us to mourn
Crave pity from creation!
And our frailty 'tis that plants the thon
And our imagination!
Crave pity from creation!
And our frailty 'tis that plants the thon
And our imagination!
My sorrows!—by another name
For evermore I'll call ye—
And seek, in deep remorse and shame,
To govern and enthrall ye!
For evermore I'll call ye—
And seek, in deep remorse and shame,
To govern and enthrall ye!
328
My griefs?—my weaknesses! away!—
The mask is raised for ever—
And I must struggle for the sway,
With strong and grave endeavour!
The mask is raised for ever—
And I must struggle for the sway,
With strong and grave endeavour!
| Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems | |