Dramatic Scenes With Other Poems, Now First Printed. By Barry Cornwall [i.e. Bryan Waller Procter]. Illustrated |
 |
| 1. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| 2. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| 3. |
|
THE VICTOR. |
 | Dramatic Scenes |  |
THE VICTOR.
He is dead,—whom I trusted and loved
In my innocent youth;
Gave my heart to,—in times when I knew not
A lie from a truth.
In my innocent youth;
Gave my heart to,—in times when I knew not
A lie from a truth.
354
I gave him my all; the things hid
In the cells of my heart;
My wealth: would you know what he did
For my good, on his part?
In the cells of my heart;
My wealth: would you know what he did
For my good, on his part?
He robbed me;—he might have had all:
He smote me,—in vain:
I arose from the shock of my fall,
From the depths of my pain;
He smote me,—in vain:
I arose from the shock of my fall,
From the depths of my pain;
And I cried—“You have wronged me:—My life,
Love, and friendship I gave.
When you trembled and shrieked in the strife,
I was near you, to save.
Love, and friendship I gave.
When you trembled and shrieked in the strife,
I was near you, to save.
But you stole from my arms the one prize
(Of my soul) that I won;
You ravished the light from my eyes,
The warmth from my sun:
(Of my soul) that I won;
You ravished the light from my eyes,
The warmth from my sun:
So I slew you. In open mid-day,
We met, on the shore,
Where we met when our spirits were gay,
And all life was before.
We met, on the shore,
Where we met when our spirits were gay,
And all life was before.
I slew you—in open fair fight:
I clove thro' the brain
That so long had bewildered my sight;
That had stung me to pain.
I clove thro' the brain
That so long had bewildered my sight;
That had stung me to pain.
355
I saw you, still firm in my wrath,
Fall dead on the sand;
And the last bloody (white and red) froth
Bubbled warm on my hand.
Fall dead on the sand;
And the last bloody (white and red) froth
Bubbled warm on my hand.
And now? do you sleep? Are you yet
In the pangs of your guilt?
For me, I have found no regret
For the blood I have spilt.
In the pangs of your guilt?
For me, I have found no regret
For the blood I have spilt.
I enjoy, on the sands where we fought,
The fresh songs of the sea;
And I laugh, that my heart feeleth nought
Of poor pity for thee.”
The fresh songs of the sea;
And I laugh, that my heart feeleth nought
Of poor pity for thee.”
| Dramatic Scenes | |