Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems By the Lady E. Stuart Wortley. In Three Vols |
 | I, II, III. |
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WHEN I MEET. |
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 | Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems |  |
WHEN I MEET.
When I meet those deep, deep eyes,
My very Soul then seems expiring;
'Tis too much of a faint surprise
That should be all intense, admiring.
My very Soul then seems expiring;
'Tis too much of a faint surprise
That should be all intense, admiring.
Yes! my Soul within me dies,
Or suffers some dread change o'erpowering,
When from those distracting eyes,
Fate, and Love, and Life seem showering.
Or suffers some dread change o'erpowering,
When from those distracting eyes,
Fate, and Love, and Life seem showering.
225
I am thine—all, only thine—
I can 'scape this thraldom never;
My tranced thoughts—they are not mine—
Stamped but with thine Image ever!
I can 'scape this thraldom never;
My tranced thoughts—they are not mine—
Stamped but with thine Image ever!
I am thine, and thine alone,
As thou wilt with me thou dealest,
Yet no mercy hast thou shown,
'Tis my ruin still thou sealest.
As thou wilt with me thou dealest,
Yet no mercy hast thou shown,
'Tis my ruin still thou sealest.
When I meet those deep, deep eyes
My very Soul then seems expiring,
Tranced and motionless it lies
In its secret self retiring.
My very Soul then seems expiring,
Tranced and motionless it lies
In its secret self retiring.
Yes! my Soul within me dies,
Or suffers some stern change o'erpowering,
When I meet those matchless eyes—
Oh! it sinks crushed down and cowering.
Or suffers some stern change o'erpowering,
When I meet those matchless eyes—
Oh! it sinks crushed down and cowering.
226
But no mercy doth it meet,
Though it yields thus unresisting—
Spurned—though falling at thy feet,
Only in thy breath existing.
Though it yields thus unresisting—
Spurned—though falling at thy feet,
Only in thy breath existing.
If I loved thee half as much,
I might hope to melt—to move thee,
Then might I thy feelings touch,
But too fearfully I love thee.
I might hope to melt—to move thee,
Then might I thy feelings touch,
But too fearfully I love thee.
What have I to offer thee?
A Soul where but one thought is reigning,
'Tis a blank monotony,
And deserves but such disdaining!
A Soul where but one thought is reigning,
'Tis a blank monotony,
And deserves but such disdaining!
| Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems | |