EDWARD FITZGERALD.
SONNET.
(SUGGESTED BY MR. WATTS'S PICTURE OF LOVE AND DEATH.)
Yea, Love is strong as life; he casts out fear,
And wrath, and hate, and all our envious foes;
He stands upon the threshold, quick to close
The gate of happiness ere should appear
Death's dreaded presence--ay, but Death draws near,
And large and gray the towering outline grows,
Whose face is veiled and hid; and yet Love knows
Full well, too well, alas! that Death is here.
Death tramples on the roses; Death comes in,
Though Love, with outstretched arms and wings outspread,
Would bar the way--poor Love, whose wings begin
To droop, half-torn as are the roses dead
Already at his feet--but Death must win,
And Love grows faint beneath that ponderous tread!
LADY LINDSAY.
JEUNE FILLE ET JEUNE FLEUR.
The bier descends, the spotless roses too,
The father's tribute in his saddest hour:
O Earth! that bore them both, thou hast thy due,--
The fair young girl and flower.
Give them not back unto a world again,
Where mourning, grief, and agony have power,--
Where winds destroy, and suns malignant reign,--
That fair young girl and flower.
Lightly thou sleepest, young Eliza, now,
Nor fear'st the burning heat, nor chilling shower;
They both have perished in their morning glow,--
The fair young girl and flower.
But he, thy sire, whose furrowed brow is pale,
Bends, lost in sorrow, o'er thy funeral bower,
And Time the old oak's roots doth now assail,
O fair young girl and flower!
From the French of FRANCOIS AUGUSTE, VICOMTE DE CHATEAUBRIAND.
Pages:
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213