Thy parting glance, which fondly beams, The tear that from thine eyelid streams, Can weep no change in me. I ask no pledge to make me blest Nor one memorial for a breast Whose thoughts are all thine own. Nor need I write-to tell the tale Unless the heart could speak? By day or night, in weal or woe, And silent ache for thee. BYRON. Jamais nous ne verrions briller un jour serein, Et semer quelques fleurs sur ce triste chemin. THE ABSENT LOVER TO HIS Summer was on the hills when last we parted, Our hearts were true, although our hopes were thwarted; Forward, with wistful eye, Scarce half-resign'd we look'd, yet thought how sweet 'Twould be again in after months to meet. And months have pass'd: now the bright moon is shining O'er the grey mountains and the stilly sea, As, by the streamlet's willowy bend reclining, I pause, remembering thee, Who to the moonlight lent a softer charm, As through these wilds we wander'd arm in arm ! Yes! as we roam'd, the sylvan earth seem'd glowing The soul was like a deep urn overflowing The very flowers seem'd born but to exhale, As breathed the West, their fragrance to the gale. Methinks I see thee yet-thy form of lightness, Floating their auburn, and thine eyes that made, Methinks even yet I feel thy timid fingers, With their bland pressure thrilling bliss to mine. Methinks yet on my cheek thy breathing lingers As, fondly leant to thine, I told how life all pleasureless would be, Youth's summer calms with storms of wintry strife; The star of Hope shone o'er our path unclouded, With those elysian rainbow-hues, which Truth Where art thou now? I look around, but see not Of that entrancing voice, which could bestow I miss thy smile, when morn's first light is bursting. Through the green branches of the casement tree; To list thy voice my lonely ear is thirsting, Beside the moonlight sea: Vain are my longings, my repinings vain; Yet should it cheer me, that nor woe hath shatter'd The ties that link our hearts, nor Hate, nor Wrath, And soon the day may dawn, when shall be scatter'd All shadows from our path; And visions be fulfill'd, by Hope adored, In thee, the long-lost, to mine arms restored. But for a moment looking bliss to me! Ah! could I hear thee ! Is life deprived of thee : desolate and lonely I start from out my reverie, to know That hills between us rise, and rivers flow! Let Fortune change-be fickle Fate preparing With thee life's storm or calm; For, ah! with others Wealth and Mirth would be Less sweet by far than Sorrow shared with thee ! Yes! vainly, foolishly, the vulgar reckon That Happiness resides in outward shows : Contentment from the lowliest cot may beckon True Love to sweet repose: For genuine bliss can ne'er be far apart, When soul meets soul, and heart responds to heart. Farewell! let tyrannous Time roll on, estranging I would not that the love, which owes its birth Fall Heaven's best joys on thy beloved head! Be every thought that stirs, and hour that flies, DELTA. THE REPROACH. Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant I |