LINES
TO A BROTHER AND SISTER,
Written soon after a Recovery from Sickness
6th April, 1799.
I
'Tis surely hard, the melancholy day
To waste without the cheering voice of friend:
To see the morning dart its golden ray,
To see the night in misty dews descend,
Nor catch one sound where Love and Meekness blend.
'Tis surely hard for him who knows how dear
A kindred soul, eternally to send
A fruitless prayer for smiles and words that cheer,
The wish in looks revealed and rapture's holy tear,
II
Him whom the spirit of attachment warms,
The nameless thrilling and the soft desire:
Him whom the glance of melting beauty charms,
Its young allurement and its living fire;
For him in tedious languor to expire,
Dreaming of bliss, yet wake to deep despair;
Fitted for love, of every joy the sire,
To drag a life of unrequited care,
For him, such silent woe, 'tis surely hard to bear.
III
Thank Heaven, such lot hath never yet been mine,
For if the gloom of discontent should fall,
And my young spirit for a season pine,
I cannot, save with gratitude, recall
Gay-painted hours of dancing festival,
When new and joyous friendships bore away
All fears of what in future might befall,
All recollections of uncheer'd dismay,
Giving to full content the heartsome holiday.
IV
And still (with pride my heart the truth reveals)
Beneath my quiet and paternal roof,
Mine eyes for ever meet the look that heals
Pale Sorrow's anguish with a kind reproof.
For all the prodigal regards of youth
And all the sympathies of gentlest love,
And all the sweet simplicity of truth,
In silent harmony for ever move
Along the heaven-blest scene ordained for us to rove.
V
Brothers and Sisters! friends of infancy!
Oh how my heart rejoices when I speak
Of all the sweetness of the home-bred tie,
Whose gentle charities and graces meek
Spread with a fairer hue the youthful cheek
Than blushing passions deep and fiery glow;
Yes! it beseems that I could never seek,
My heart so turns to you, were ye to go,
A new or foreign aid to mitigate the blow.
VI
When morn first wakes me with its cheering smile,
That cheering smile, it seems, my friends, to wear,
Is friendship's charm transfused, that all the while
Lives in the silent spirit of the air:
Your voices, looks, and kind inquiries bear
Their living incense to each gladdened view;
And all that beams around so gay and fair,
Is Love's officious toil, that paints anew
Each form that looks like life with no terrestrial hue.
VII
And when meek evening glides athwart the sky
And drowsy silence hangs upon the earth,
Save that some distant hum which breathes to die,
May chance from haunts of bacchanalian mirth
To meet his ear who sadly wandering forth
Courts every hinting of departed bliss;
Yes, when meek evening glides, there spring to birth
Thousand dear images of happiness,
The Brother's honest grasp, the Sister's holy kiss.
VIII
And most to you my two beloved friends!
My Sister, and my Brother, most to you
My heart its cordial gratulation sends;
Olivia, Robert, friends both tried and true!
Chiefly, this moment, would my soul renew
To you its pledged affections, latest
met:
(The absent ever it shall keep in view)
But oh, Companions of my youth, not yet
May I your female care and manly zeal forget.
IX
Yes, all without was drear, and all within
Was dark and hopeless! pale disease had shed
Her dullest glooms, and fain would I have been
A quiet slumberer, number'd with the dead.
But you with sweet solicitation led,
And tender blandishment, my troubled breast
From fears and doubts, and terrors fancy-fed,
And lulled my spirit to a heavenly rest
With Hope and Peace and Joy, and many a long-lost guest.
X
Then Sister, Brother! friends whom ne'er I hail
Without some gentle stirring of the heart;
Then Sister, Brother! friends who never fail
To hold in absence, with a secret art,
A sweet communion with my better part,
Accept my thanks, accept my humble lays!
And for one moment if your features dart
That simple welcome which affection pays,
Though faultering, weak, and poor, my verse were rich in praise!
