 | Poems on The Death of Priscilla Farmer |  |
SONNET.
[The piteous sobs that choak the Virgin's breath]
The piteous sobs that choak the Virgin's breathFor him, the fair betrothed Youth, who lies
Cold in the narrow dwelling, or the cries
With which a Mother wails her Darling's death,
These from our Nature's common impulse spring
Unblam'd, unprais'd; but o'er the piled earth,
Which hides the sheeted corse of grey-hair'd Worth,
If droops the soaring Youth with slacken'd wing;
If He recall in saddest minstrelsy
Each tenderness bestow'd, each truth imprest;
Such Grief is Reason, Virtue, Piety!
And from the Almighty Father shall descend
Comforts on his late Evening, whose young breast
Mourns with no transient love the Aged Friend.
S. T. COLERIDGE.
5
SONNET V.
[When that dear Saint my fancy has possess'd]
When that dear Saint my fancy has possess'd,Cheating my griefs, and then to bitter tears
Leaves me, I seek to calm my aching fears,
Thinking how holily She still suppress'd
Each dim disquietude, looking to Him
The Friend of bowed souls who wait to hear
The “still small voice” to forlorn Sorrow dear!
Then do mine eyes with kindlier sadness swim:—
And I implore, that She whom I did weep
As I had had no hope, as on Death's sleep
No morn arose, when She shall liveliest dart
On each tranc'd sense, may teach my prayers to rise
Impassion'd, and a purer sacrifice,
Lifted by Her, the Priestess of my Heart!
12
The Grandam.
[_]
The following beautiful fragment was written by CHARLES LAMB, of the India-House.—Its subject being the same with that of my Poems, I was solicitous to have it printed with them: and I am indebted to a Friend of the Author's for the permission.
Hard by the house of prayer (an humble roof,
In nought distinguish'd from its neighbour barn
Save by a slender tapering length of spire),
The Grandam sleeps. A plain stone barely tells
Her name and date to the chance passenger:
For lowly born was she, and long had eat
Well earn'd the bread of service; her's was else
A mounting spirit; one that entertain'd
Scorn of base action, deed dishonourable,
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Her reverend image; I remember too
With what a zeal she serv'd her master's house;
And how the prattling tongue of garrulous age
Delighted to recount the oft-told tale,
Or anecdote domestic: wise she was,
And wond'rous skill'd in genealogies,
And could in apt and voluble terms discourse
Of births, of titles, and alliances;
Of marriages and intermarriages;
Relationships remote or near of kin;
Of friends offended, family disgrac'd,
Maiden high-born but wayward, disobeying
Parental strict injunction, and regardless
Of unmix'd blood, and ancestry remote,
Stooping to wed with one of low degree.
But these are not thy praises, and I wrong
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Things light or trivial. Better 'twere to tell,
How with a nobler zeal and warmer love
She serv'd her heavenly Master. I have seen
That reverend form bent down with age and pain,
And rankling malady—yet not for that
Ceas'd she to praise her Maker, or withdrew
Her trust from him, her faith, and humble hope:
So meekly had she learn'd to bear her cross.
For she had studied patience in the school
Of Christ; much comfort she had thence deriv'd,
And was a follower of the Nazarene.
THE END.
| Poems on The Death of Priscilla Farmer | |