Legends and Lyrics. Part 1. Procter Adelaide Anne

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Before I trust my Fate to thee,

      Or place my hand in thine,

      Before I let thy Future give

      Colour and form to mine,

      Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul to-night for me.

      I break all slighter bonds, nor feel

      A shadow of regret:

      Is there one link within the Past,

      That holds thy spirit yet?

      Or is thy Faith as clear and free as that which I can pledge to thee?

      Does there within thy dimmest dreams

      A possible future shine,

      Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe,

      Untouched, unshared by mine?

      If so, at any pain or cost, oh, tell me before all is lost.

      Look deeper still.  If thou canst feel

      Within thy inmost soul,

      That thou hast kept a portion back,

      While I have staked the whole;

      Let no false pity spare the blow, but in true mercy tell me so.

      Is there within thy heart a need

      That mine cannot fulfil?

      One chord that any other hand

      Could better wake or still?

      Speak now – lest at some future day my whole life wither and decay.

      Lives there within thy nature bid

      The demon-spirit Change,

      Shedding a passing glory still

      On all things new and strange? —

      It may not be thy fault alone – but shield my heart against thy own.

      Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day

      And answer to my claim,

      That Fate, and that to-day’s mistake,

      Not thou – had been to blame?

      Some soothe their conscience thus: but thou, wilt surely warn and save me now.

      Nay, answer not– I dare not hear,

      The words would come too late;

      Yet I would spare thee all remorse,

      So, comfort thee, my Fate —

      Whatever on my heart may fall – remember I would risk it all!

      I saw a Ruler take his stand

      And trample on a mighty land;

      The People crouched before his beck,

      His iron heel was on their neck,

      His name shone bright through blood and pain,

      His sword flashed back their praise again.

      I saw another Ruler rise —

      His words were noble, good, and wise;

      With the calm sceptre of his pen

      He ruled the minds and thoughts of men;

      Some scoffed, some praised – while many heard,

      Only a few obeyed his word.

      Another Ruler then I saw —

      Love and sweet Pity were his law:

      The greatest and the least had part

      (Yet most the unhappy) in his heart —

      The People, in a mighty band,

      Rose up, and drove him from the land!

      Spare her at least: look, you have taken from me

      The Present, and I murmur not, nor moan;

      The Future too, with all her glorious promise;

      But do not leave me utterly alone.

      Spare me the Past – for, see, she cannot harm you,

      She lies so white and cold, wrapped in her shroud;

      All, all my own! and, trust me, I will hide her

      Within my soul, nor speak to her aloud.

      I folded her soft hands upon her bosom,

      And strewed my flowers upon her —they still live —

      Sometimes I like to kiss her closed white eye-lids,

      And think of all the joy she used to give.

      Cruel indeed it were to take her from me;

      She sleeps, she will not wake – no fear – again:

      And so I laid her, such a gentle burthen,

      Quietly on my heart to still its pain.

      I do not think that any smiling Present,

      Any vague Future, spite of all her charms,

      Could ever rival her.  You know you laid her,

      Long years ago, then living, in my arms.

      Leave her at least – while my tears fall upon her,

      I dream she smiles, just as she did of yore;

      As dear as ever to me – nay, it may be,

      Even dearer still – since I have nothing more.

      Where are the swallows fled?

      Frozen and dead,

      Perchance upon some bleak and stormy shore.

      Oh doubting heart!

      Far over purple seas,

      They wait, in sunny ease,

      The balmy southern breeze,

      To bring them to their northern homes once more.

      Why must the flowers die?

      Prisoned they lie

      In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain.

      Oh doubting heart!

      They only sleep below

      The soft white ermine snow,

      While winter winds shall blow,

      To breathe and smile upon you soon again.

      The sun has hid its rays

      These many days;

      Will dreary hours never leave the earth?

      Oh doubting heart!

      The stormy clouds on high

      Veil the same sunny sky,

      That СКАЧАТЬ