STANZAS. If that form looked forth so lovely, Down into the lonesome valley, There a corse they found him sitting Still his pale and placid features To the lattice turned. (Anonymous Translation.) F. VON SCHILLER. Stanzas. Heu ! quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse ! A ND thou art dead, as young and fair As aught of mortal birth: And form so soft, and charms so rare Though earth received them in her bed, There is an eye which could not brook I will not ask where thou liest low, Nor gaze upon the spot; There flowers or weeds at will may grow, So I behold them not; It is enough for me to prove That what I loved, and long must love, Like common earth can rot; To me there needs no stone to tell, 155 Yet did I love thee to the last, As fervently as thou, Who didst not change through all the past, The love where Death has set his seal, Nor falsehood disavow: And, what were worse, thou can'st not see Or wrong, or change, or fault in me. The better days of life were ours; The worst can be but mine; The sun that shines, the storm that lowers, Shall never more be thine. The silence of that dreamless sleep I envy now too much to weep; Nor need I to repine That all those charms have passed away, I might have watched through long decay. The flower in ripened bloom unmatched Though by no hand untimely snatched, And yet it were a greater grief I know not if I could have borne The night that followed such a morn Thy day without a cloud hath past, As stars that shoot along the sky, Shine brightest as they fall from high. EVELYN HOPE. As once I wept if I could weep, My tears might well be shed To gaze, how fondly! on thy face, Yet how much less it were to gain, The all of thee that cannot die Through dark and dread eternity, And more thy buried love endears LORD BYRON. Evelyn Hope. BEAUTIFUL Evelyn Hope is dead! Sit and watch by her side an hour. Little has yet been changed, I think; Sixteen years old when she died! Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name It was not her time to love; beside, Her life had many a hope and aim, 157 Duties enough and little cares; And now was quiet, now astir-- Is it too late, then, Evelyn Hope? And our paths in the world diverged so wide, No, indeed! for God above Is great to grant, as mighty to make, Delayed, it may be, for more lives yet, Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few; But the time will come-at last it will- And your mouth of your own geranium's redAnd what you would do with me, in fine, In the new life come in the old one's stead. I have lived, I shall say, so much since then, Gained me the gains of various men, Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes; HIGHLAND MARY. Yet one thing-one-in my soul's full scope, I loved you, Evelyn, all the while; My heart seemed full as it could hold— 159 There was place and to spare for the frank young smile, And the red young mouth, and the hair's young gold, So, hush! I will give you this leaf to keep; See, I shut it inside the sweet, cold hand. There, that is our secret! go to sleep: You will wake, and remember, and understand. ROBERT BROWNING. Highland Mary. E banks, and braes, and streams around YE The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie ! There simmer first unfald her robes, And there the langest tarry! For there I took the last fareweel How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk! As, underneath their fragrant shade, Was my sweet Highland Mary. |