 | The Poetical Works of Robert Story |  |
The Splendours of Sunset.
1822.
[_]
[On the marriage of my late and old friend, Mr. Tatham, of Gargrave Both he and his Isabel have long gone the way of all flesh.]
The splendours of the sunset diffuse their last tinges
Athwart the fine azure, and streak it afar;
While, peeping serene through their faint-meeting fringes,
Appears in its beauty the love-hallowed star.
And see, o'er the summit of Flasby dividing,
The clouds in their bosom the fair Moon receive,
Who, like some pure spirit in majesty gliding,
Comes forth to smile joy on our blithe bridal eve!
Athwart the fine azure, and streak it afar;
While, peeping serene through their faint-meeting fringes,
Appears in its beauty the love-hallowed star.
And see, o'er the summit of Flasby dividing,
The clouds in their bosom the fair Moon receive,
Who, like some pure spirit in majesty gliding,
Comes forth to smile joy on our blithe bridal eve!
“The love I have whispered when such an hour yellowed
The scene of our meeting by stream or by grove,
Which reason hath sanctioned, and intercourse mellowed,
To-morrow will show it was genuine love.
I chose from a world, first allured by thy beauty,
The charms of thy mind have confirmed me thine own;
And the vow I pronounce, will but hallow to duty,
What my heart must have taught me—to love thee alone.
The scene of our meeting by stream or by grove,
Which reason hath sanctioned, and intercourse mellowed,
To-morrow will show it was genuine love.
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The charms of thy mind have confirmed me thine own;
And the vow I pronounce, will but hallow to duty,
What my heart must have taught me—to love thee alone.
“But say, canst thou love me alone, and for ever?
Ah, tell me! for loved and adored as thou art,
If one were as dear to thee, yet we might sever!
I would not divide with a Monarch thy heart!”
So spoke a fond Youth, while his Isabel listened,
Nor uttered a word to his doubt or his fear;
But her soft cheek it glowed, and her blue eye it glistened,
And she hid in his bosom her blush and her tear!
Ah, tell me! for loved and adored as thou art,
If one were as dear to thee, yet we might sever!
I would not divide with a Monarch thy heart!”
So spoke a fond Youth, while his Isabel listened,
Nor uttered a word to his doubt or his fear;
But her soft cheek it glowed, and her blue eye it glistened,
And she hid in his bosom her blush and her tear!
| The Poetical Works of Robert Story | |