 | Poems by the late John Bethune |  |
MELANCHOLY.
There is a feeling of the mind
Distinct alike from joy and woe:
'Tis sad, but placid and resigned,
And pleased with all it meets below.
Distinct alike from joy and woe:
'Tis sad, but placid and resigned,
And pleased with all it meets below.
It mantles o'er the paly cheek,
It lurks behind the languid eye;
Its language is the soft and meek
Expression of a noiseless sigh.
It lurks behind the languid eye;
Its language is the soft and meek
Expression of a noiseless sigh.
Oft it keeps vigil with the good,
And watches nightly with the wise;
And oft the bard, in solitude,
Feels its alternate fall and rise.
And watches nightly with the wise;
And oft the bard, in solitude,
Feels its alternate fall and rise.
And oft it mounts, and sweetly glows
The spirit of pathetic song:
And sometimes, too, through mirth it flows,
Gliding all noiselessly along.
The spirit of pathetic song:
And sometimes, too, through mirth it flows,
Gliding all noiselessly along.
But chiefly upon future scenes
It pores with anxious earnestness—
Fathoms the gulf of time, and leans
Delighted o'er the dark abyss.
It pores with anxious earnestness—
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Delighted o'er the dark abyss.
It scans eternity—and there
It finds that mystery which inspires
Its musings with the voice of prayer,
And moulds its fancies to desires.
It finds that mystery which inspires
Its musings with the voice of prayer,
And moulds its fancies to desires.
Could soul be shewn in shape or form,
I'd shape this aspect of the mind
Like some fair female—chaste and warm,
And young and beautiful—but blind!
I'd shape this aspect of the mind
Like some fair female—chaste and warm,
And young and beautiful—but blind!
And, like a muse of melodies,
I'd make her sit by Genius' side,
And fan, with her celestial sighs,
His paly brow of thoughtful pride.
I'd make her sit by Genius' side,
And fan, with her celestial sighs,
His paly brow of thoughtful pride.
And in her mien majestic, high
A pensive smile I would pourtray;
And make her soft and sightless eye
With deep and thoughtful sadness play.
A pensive smile I would pourtray;
And make her soft and sightless eye
With deep and thoughtful sadness play.
And for a name, I would baptise
This modest maid, so meek and holy,
The Muse's sister—Queen of Sighs,
The Poet's bride—Sweet Melancholy.
This modest maid, so meek and holy,
The Muse's sister—Queen of Sighs,
The Poet's bride—Sweet Melancholy.
| Poems by the late John Bethune | |