Felicia Hemans

“ What is this bound that keeps thee from thine own?
Breathe it away!
I wait thee—I adjure thee! hast thou known
How I have loved thee? couldst thou dream it all?
Am I not here, with night and death alone,
And fearing not? and hath my spirit's call
O'er thine no sway?
Thou canst not come! or thus I should not weep!
Thy love is deathless—but no longer free!
Soon would its wing triumphantly o'ersweep
The viewless barrier, if such power might be,
Soon, soon, and fast!
But I shall come to thee! our souls' deep dreams,
Our young affections, have not gush'd in vain ”

“ Alas! what kind of grief should thy years know?
Thy brow and cheek are smooth as waters be
When no breath troubles them.
Beaumont and Fletcher.
And is there sadness in thy dreams, my boy?
What should the cloud be made of?—blessed child!
Thy spirit, borne upon a breeze of joy,
All day hath ranged through sunshine, clear, yet mild:
And now thou tremblest!—wherefore?—in thy soul
There lies no past, no future.—Thou hast heard
No sound of presage from the distance roll,
Thy heart bears traces of no arrowy word. ”

“ And smites the heart, till all its chords reply,
As leaves make answer when the wind sweeps by.
Come to me! visit my dim haunt!—the sound
Of hidden springs is in the grass beneath;
The stock-dove's note above; and all around,
The poesy that with the violet's breath
Floats through the air, in rich and sudden streams,
Mingling, like music, with the soul's deep dreams.
Friends, friends!—for such to my lone heart ye are—
Unchanging ones! from whose immortal eyes
The glory melts not as a waning star,
And the sweet kindness never, never dies ”

“ Bright stream and dark one!—oh! never on earth;
Never while triumphs and tombs are so near,
While Death and Love walk the same dim sphere,
While flowers unfold where the storm may sweep,
While the heart of man is a soundless deep!
But there smiles a land, oh! ye troubled pair!
Where ye have no part in the summer air.
Far from the breathings of changeful skies,
Over the seas and the graves it lies;
Where the day of the lightning and cloud is done,
And joy reigns alone, as the lonely sun! ”

“ The passion-tempests may not break its calm;
'Tis thine, all thine!
Thither, in trust unbaffled, mayst thou turn,
From bitter words, cold greetings, heartless eyes,
Quenching thy soul's thirst at the hidden urn,
That, fill'd with waters of sweet memory, lies
In its own shrine.
Thou hast thy home!—there is no power in change
To reach that temple of the past;—no sway,
In all time brings of sudden, dark, or strange,
To sweep the still transparent peace away
From its hush'd air!
And oh! that glorious image of the dead! ”

“ There is nothing in the wide world so like the voice of a spirit.
Gray's Letters.
Oh! many a voice is thine, thou Wind! full many a voice is thine,
From every scene thy wing o'ersweeps thou bear'st a sound and sign;
A minstrel wild and strong thou art, with a mastery all thine own,
And the spirit is thy harp, O Wind! that gives the answering tone.
Thou hast been across red fields of war, where shiver' d helmets lie,
And thou bringest thence the thrilling note of a clarion in the sky ”

“ A crown of victory! a triumphal song!
Oh! call some friend, upon whose pitying heart
The weary one, may calmly sink to rest:
Let some kind voice, beside his lowly couch,
Pour the last prayer for mortal agony!
A trumpet's note is in the sky, in the glorious Roman sky,
Whose dome hath rung, so many an age, to the voice of victory;
There is crowding to the capitol, the imperial streets along,
For again a conqueror must be crown'd,—a kingly child of song ”

“ Never again wilt thou find in its flow,
The peace it could once on thy heart bestow.
"Thou wilt visit the scenes of thy childhood's glee,
With the breath of the world on thy spirit free;
Passion and sorrow its depth will have stirr'd,
And the singing of waters be vainly heard.
"Thou wilt bear in our gladsome laugh no part—
What should it do for a burning heart?
Thou wilt bring to the banks of our freshest rill,
Thirst which no fountain on earth may still.
"Farewell!—when thou comest again to thine own,
Thou wilt miss from our music its loveliest tone ”

“ A faded world, of glory's hues bereft,
A void, a chain!—I dwell, 'midst throngs, apart,
In the cold silence of the stranger's heart;
A fix'd, immortal shadow stands between
My spirit and life's fast-receding scene;
A gift hath sever'd me from human ties,
A power is gone from all earth's melodies,
Which never may return:—their chords are broken—
The music of another land hath spoken,—
No after-sound is sweet!—this weary thirst! ”

“ Love's last vain clinging unto life; and now—
A mist of dreams was hovering o'er her brow,
Her eye was fix'd, her spirit seem'd removed,
Though not from Earth, from all it knew or loved,
Far, far away! her handmaids watch'd around,
In awe, that lent to each low midnight sound
A might, a mystery; and the quivering light
Of wind-sway'd lamps, made spectral in their sight
The forms of buried beauty, sad, yet fair,
Gleaming along the walls with braided hair,
Long in the dust grown dim ”

“ THE VAUDOIS' WIFE [1]
Clasp me a little longer, on the brink
Of fate! while I can feel thy dear caress:
And when this heart hath ceased to beat, oh! think—
And let it mitigate thy woe's excess—
That thou to me hast been all tenderness,
And friend, to more than human friendship just.
Oh! by that retrospect of happiness,
And by the hopes of an immortal trust,
God shall assuage thy pangs, when I am laid in dust. ”

“ Trembling, as trembles a bird's quick heart,
When it vainly strives from its cage to part,—
So knelt she in her woe;
A weeper alone with the tearless dead—
Oh! they reck not of tears o'er their quiet shed,
Or the dust had stirr'd below!
Hark! a swift step! she hath caught its tone,
Through the dash of the sea, through the wild wind's moan;—
Is her lord return'd with his conquering bands? ”

“ No! brave heart!—though cold and lone,
Kingly power is yet thine own!
Feel I not thy spirit brood
O'er the whispering solitude?
Lo! at one high thought of thee,
Fast they rise, the bold, the free,
Sweeping past thy lowly bed,
With a mute, yet stately tread.
Shedding their pale armour's light
Forth upon the breathless night,
Bending every warlike plume
In the prayer o'er saintly tomb.
Is the noble Douglas nigh,
Arm'd to follow thee, or die? ”

“ Sweet mother! call me hence!
This wild idolatry must end in woe.
The troubled joy of life,
Love's lightning happiness, my soul hath known;
And, worn with feverish strife,
Would fold its wings;—take back, take back thine own!
Hark! how the wind swept by!
The tempest's voice comes rolling o'er the wave—
Hope of the sailor's eye,
And maiden's heart, blest mother, guide and save! ”

“ Who calls me silent? I have many tones—
The dark skies thrill with low, mysterious moans,
⁠Borne on my sweeping wings.
⁠I waft them not alone
From the deep organ of the forest shades,
Or buried streams, unheard amidst their glades,
⁠Till the bright day is done;
⁠But in the human breast
A thousand still small voices I awake,
Strong, in their sweetness, from the soul to shake
⁠The mantle of its rest.
⁠I bring them from the past:
From true hearts broken, gentle spirits torn,
From crush'd affections, which, though long o'erborne,
⁠Make their tones heard at last. ”

“ And bring proud spoils to the hearth at night."
"But, oh! the grey church-tower,
And the sound of Sabbath-bell,
And the shelter'd garden-bower,—
We have bid them all farewell!"
"We will give the names of our fearless race
To each bright river whose course we trace;
We will leave our memory with mounts and floods,
And the path of our daring in boundless woods!
And our works unto many a lake's green shore,
Where the Indian's graves lay, alone, before."
"But who shall teach the flowers,
Which our children loved, to dwell
In a soil that is not ours? ”

“ There is joy where the song of the lark is heard,
With the dancing of waters through copse and dell,
And the bee's low tune in the fox-glove's bell.
Thou hast done well:—Oh! the seas are lone,
And the voice they send up hath a mournful tone ”

“ Than the quivering, erewhile, of an aspen bough.
She search'd into many an unclosed eye,
That look'd, without soul, to the starry sky;
She bow'd down o'er many a shatter'd breast,
She lifted up helmet and cloven crest—
⁠Not there, not there he lay!
"Lead where the most hath been dared and done,
Where the heart of the battle hath bled,—lead on!" ”

“ Thou hast been where the rocks of coral grow,
Thou hast fought with eddying waves;—
Thy cheek is pale, and thy heart beats low,
Thou searcher of ocean's caves!
Thou hast look'd on the gleaming wealth of old,
And wrecks where the brave have striven;
The deep is a strong and a fearful hold,
But thou its bar hast riven!
A wild and weary life is thine ”

“ A solemn joy comes o'er me, and a sense
Of triumph, blent with nature's gush of weeping,
As, kindling up the silent stone, I see
The glorious vision, caught by faith, of thee.
Slumberer! love calls thee, for the night is past ”

“ I bring not my childhood's heart again
To the freedom of your glades.
"I have turn'd from my first pure love aside,
O bright and happy streams!
Light after light, in my soul have died
The day-spring's glorious dreams. ”

“ Or where dark rivers foam?
—Oh! life is dim where ye are not—
Back, ye beloved, come home!
Come with the leaves and winds of spring,
And swift birds, o'er the main!
Our love is grown too sorrowful—
Bring us its youth again! ”

“ Send back one sound, if love's be quenchless life,
But once, oh! answer me!
In the still noontide, in the sunset's hush,
In the dead hour of night, when thought grows deep,
When the heart's phantoms from the darkness rush,
Fearfully beautiful, to strive with sleep—
Spirit! then answer me! ”

“ Strangely and wildly ye meet by the bier!
As the gleam from a sea-bird's white wing shed,
Crosses the storm in its path of dread;
As a dirge meets the breeze of a summer sky—
Sadness and Mirth! so ye come and fly! ”

“ So loved should be!
Thou tak'st our summer hence!—the flower, the tone,
The music of our being, all in one,
Depart with thee!
"Fair form, young spirit, morning vision fled!
Canst thou be of the dead, the awful dead? ”

“ With dreamy whispers fill the immortal air;
If Thought, here piled from many a jewel-heap,
Be treasure in that pensive land to keep;
If Love, o'ersweeping change, and blight, and blast,
Find there the music of his home at last ”

“ Though clouds are darkening to o'ercast its mirth.
Mother! I may not hear thy voice again;
Sisters! ye watch to greet my step in vain;
Young brother, fare thee well!—on each dear head
Blessing and love a thousandfold be shed,
My soul's last earthly breathings!—May your home
Smile for you ever!—May no winter come,
No world, between your hearts! ”

“ The soul its nightingales pour forth in song!
Thou, making death deep joy!—but couldst thou die?
No!—thy young love hath immortality!
From earth's bright faces fades the light of morn,
From earth's glad voices drops the joyous tone ”

“ Salute the parting brave.
With every breeze a spirit sends
To me some warning sign:—
A mournful gift is mine, O friends!
A mournful gift is mine!
Oh! prophet heart! thy grief, thy power,
To all deep souls belong ”

“ Have they bright dwellers?—are their lone domains
Peopled with beauty, which may never still
Our weary thirst of soul?—Cold, weak and cold,
Is Earth's vain language, piercing not one fold
Of our deep being!—Oh, for gifts more high! ”

“ Risvegliate in vano 'l cor che non può liberarsi.
Wherefore and whither bear'st thou up my spirit,
On eagle wings, through every plume that thrill?
It hath no crown of victory to inherit—
Be still, triumphant harmony! be still!
Thine are no sounds for earth, thus proudly swelling
Into rich floods of joy:—it is but pain
To mount so high, yet find on high no dwelling,
To sink so fast, so heavily again! ”

“ And die away, my heart!
The rose, the glorious rose is gone,
And I, too, will depart.
The skies have lost their splendour,
The waters changed their tone,
And wherefore, in the faded world,
Should music linger on? ”

“ With the Roman eagles through the sky!
I know that ev'n then, in his hour of pride,
The soul of the mighty within him died;
That a void in his bosom lay darkly still,
Which the music of victory might never fill! ”

“ Les poètes dont l'imagination tient à la puissance d'aimer et de souffrir, ne sont ils pas les bannis d'une autre region?
⁠Madame de Stael. De L'Allemagne.
No tears for thee!—though light be from us gone
With thy soul's radiance, bright, yet restless one!
⁠No tears for thee!
They that have loved an exile, must not mourn
To see him parting for his native bourne
⁠O'er the dark sea. ”

“ For their sake, for the dead—whose image nought
May dim within the temple of my breast—
For their love's sake, which now no earthly thought
May shake or trouble with its own unrest,
Though the past haunt me as a spirit,—yet
I ask not to forget. ”

“ Lift thy glance! the fiery sun
There his pride of place hath won!
And the mountain lark is there,
And sweet sound hath fill'd the air;
Hast thou left that realm on high?
— Oh! it can be but to die! ”

“ Leave me!—thy footstep, with its lightest sound,
The very shadow of thy waving hair,
Wakes in my soul a feeling too profound,
Too strong for aught that loves and dies, to bear—
Oh! bid the conflict cease! ”

“ A laughing tone of streams:—
Long may her sojourn be
In the music-land of dreams!
Each voice of love is there,
Each gleam of beauty fled,
Each lost one still more fair—
Oh! lightly, lightly tread! ”

“ All whom thou bearest far from home and hearth
Many are thine, whose steps no more shall track
Their own sweet native earth!
Some wilt thou leave beneath the plantain's shade,
Where through the foliage Indian suns look bright ”