Nugae Modernae Morning thoughts, and midnight musings: consisting of casual reflections, egotisms, &c. In prose and verse. By Thomas Park |
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THE WIDOWER.
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THE WIDOWER.
A DITTY, SOMEWHAT AFTER THE OLDEN TIME.
“I tell the tale of ruin'd happiness.”
From the dwelling of the Widower
There breathed a hollow moan;
With some one he seem'd talking,
When I knew he was alone:
I listen'd at the lattice
Of the chamber where he lay,
And thus, 'mid sobs of anguish,
I heard him sadly say—
“Thou livest in my bosom, Love!
Though thou from earth hast fled,
And on thy widow'd pillow
Shall no second lay her head.”
There breathed a hollow moan;
With some one he seem'd talking,
When I knew he was alone:
I listen'd at the lattice
Of the chamber where he lay,
And thus, 'mid sobs of anguish,
I heard him sadly say—
“Thou livest in my bosom, Love!
Though thou from earth hast fled,
And on thy widow'd pillow
Shall no second lay her head.”
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Then sighs, that seem'd to rive his heart,
His utterance quite drown'd,
And on his knees, with vehemence,
He dropt upon the ground—
“O give me strength, kind Heaven! (he cried)
This misery to bear;
Or, with the angel I have lost,
Take, take me to your care:
For she within my bosom lives,
Though from my presence fled,
And on her widow'd pillow
Shall no other lay her head.
His utterance quite drown'd,
And on his knees, with vehemence,
He dropt upon the ground—
“O give me strength, kind Heaven! (he cried)
This misery to bear;
Or, with the angel I have lost,
Take, take me to your care:
For she within my bosom lives,
Though from my presence fled,
And on her widow'd pillow
Shall no other lay her head.
“When I do go to sleepless rest,
I go with thrilling fears;
When weary I rise up from bed,
My eyes are dim with tears;
I think of her whose faithful love
My blessing was and pride,
Who day and night, for twice ten years,
Seem'd safety by my side,
And still within my bosom lives,
Though from my presence fled,
Nor on her widow'd pillow
Shall another lay her head.
I go with thrilling fears;
When weary I rise up from bed,
My eyes are dim with tears;
I think of her whose faithful love
My blessing was and pride,
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Seem'd safety by my side,
And still within my bosom lives,
Though from my presence fled,
Nor on her widow'd pillow
Shall another lay her head.
“Ah! must not such lost treasure
To my fond thought be dear,
When e'en the place that held it
Seems all that now can cheer?—
'Tis sorrow's soothing nourishment
To feed on pleasures past,
'Tis true affection's covenant
To live while life shall last:
So live thou in my bosom, Love!
Though thou to heav'n art fled,
For on thy widow'd pillow
I alone will lay my head.”
To my fond thought be dear,
When e'en the place that held it
Seems all that now can cheer?—
'Tis sorrow's soothing nourishment
To feed on pleasures past,
'Tis true affection's covenant
To live while life shall last:
So live thou in my bosom, Love!
Though thou to heav'n art fled,
For on thy widow'd pillow
I alone will lay my head.”
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