The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P - BestLightNovel.com
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Blooming as my youth beheld thee In the trysting-place of yore,-- Hark a footfall! I have spell'd thee, Lo, thy living smile once more!
PART II.
THE MEETING-PLACE OF OLD.
Glides the brooklet through the rushes, Now with dipping boughs at play, Now with quicker music-gushes Where the pebbles chafe the way.
Lonely from the lonely meadows Slopes the undulating hill; And the slowness of its shadows But at sunset gains the rill:
Not a sign of man's existence, Not a glimpse of man's abode, Yet the church-spire in the distance Links the solitude with G.o.d.
All so quiet, all so glowing, In the golden hush of noon; Nature's still heart overflowing From the breathless lips of June.
Song itself the bird forsaketh, Save from wooded deeps remote, Mellowly and singly breaketh, Mellowly, the cuckoo's note.
'Tis the scene where youth beheld thee; 'Tis the trysting-place of yore; Yes, my mighty grief hath spell'd thee, Blooming--living--mine once more!
PART III.
LOVE UNTO DEATH.
Hand in hand we stood confiding, Boy and maiden, hand in hand, Where the path, in twain dividing, Reach'd the Undiscover'd Land.
Oh, the Hebe then beside me, Oh, the embodied Dream of Youth, With an angel's soul to guide me, And a woman's heart to soothe!
Like the Morning in the gladness Of the smile that lit the skies; Liker Twilight in the sadness Lurking deep in starry eyes!
Gaudier flowerets had effaced thee In the formal garden set; Nature in the shade had placed thee With thy kindred violet;
As the violet to completeness Coming even ere the day; All thy life a silent sweetness Waning with a warmer ray.
So, upon the verge of sorrow Stood we, blindly, hand in hand, Whispering of a happy morrow In that undiscover'd land.
Thou, O meek one, fame foretelling, Grown ambitious but for me; While my heart, if proudly swelling, Beat--ah, not for Fame, but thee!
In that summer-noon we parted, Life redundant over all.
Once again--O broken-hearted-- When the autumn leaves did fall,
Meeting--life from life to sever!
Parting,--as depart the dead, When the dark "Farewell for ever,"
Fades from marble lips, unsaid;
As upon a bark that slowly Lessens lone adown the sea, Looks abandon'd Melancholy-- Did thy still eyes follow me!
Wilful in thy self devotion, Patient on the desert sh.o.r.e, Gazing, gazing, till from ocean Waned thy last hope evermore.
Gentle victim, they might bind thee, But to fetter was to slay; As a statue they enshrined thee, At a sepulchre to pray;
Bade the bloodless lips not falter; Bade the cold despair be brave; Yes, the next morn at the altar!
But the next moon in the grave!
Little dream'd they when they bore thee To the nuptial funeral shrine, That to ME they did restore thee, And release thy soul to mine!
Well thy n.o.ble heart might smother Nature's agonizing cry, What can perjure to another Faith--if firm eno' to die!
Yet can ev'n the grave regain thee?
Gain as human love would see?
Darling--Pardon, I profane thee; Angel, bend and comfort me!
PART IV.
LOVE AFTER DEATH.
Cold the loiterer who refuseth At the well of life to drink, Till the wave a sparkle loseth, And the silver cord a link.
But the flagging of the forces In the journey of the soul, If the first draught waste the sources, If the first touch break the bowl!--
On the surface bright with pleasure Still thy distant shade was cast; Ah! the heart was where the treasure, And the Present with the Past.
If from Fame, the all-deceiver, Toil contending garlands sought, Oft our force if but our fever, And our swiftness flight from Thought.
Hollow Pleasure, vain Ambition, Give me back the impulse free-- Hope that seem'd its own fruition, Life contented but to be,
When the earth with Heaven was haunted In the shepherd age of gold, And the Venus rose enchanted From the sunny seas of old.
Cease, not mine the ign.o.ble moral Of an unresisted grief; Can the lightning sear the laurel, Or the winter fade its leaf?
Flowerless, fruitless, to the dying, Green as when the sap began, Bolt and winter both defying,-- So be manhood unto man.
Once I wander'd forth dejected In the later times of gloom; And the icy moon reflected _One_ still shadow o'er thy tomb.
There, in desolation kneeling, Snows around me, stars above, Came that second world of feeling, Came that second birth of Love,
When regret grows aspiration, When o'er chaos moves the breath; And a new-born dim creation Rising, wid'ning, dawns from death.
Then methought my soul was lifted From the anguish and the strife; With a finer vision gifted For the Spirituals of Life;
For the links that, while they thrall us, Upward mount in just degree, Knitting even, if they gall us, Life to Immortality;
For the subtler glories blending With the common air we know, Ansel hosts to heaven ascending Up the ladder based below.
Straight each harsher iron duty Did the sudden light illume; Oh, what streams of solemn beauty Take their sources in the tomb!
PART V.