Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 26 1829.pdf/4



One struggle more, and I am free. .

me, oh! leave me!—unto all below Thy presence binds me with too deep a spell; Thou mak'st these mortal regions, whence I go, Too mighty in their loveliness—farewell, That I may part in peace!

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

I hear thy whisper—and the warm tears gush Into mine eyes, the quick pulse thrills my heart; Thou bid'st the peace, the reverential hush, The still submission from my thoughts depart. Dear One! this must not be.

The past looks on me from thy mournful eye, The beauty of our free and vernal days, Our communings with sea, and hill, and sky— Oh! take that bright world from my spirit's gaze! Thou art all earth to me!

Shut out the sunshine from my dying room, The jas'mine's breath, the murmur of the bee; Let not the joy of bird-notes pierce the gloom! They speak of life, of summer, and of thee— Too much—and death is here!

Doth our own spring make happy music now, From the old beech-roots flashing into day? Are the broad lilies imaged in its flow? —Alas! vain thoughts that fondly thus can stray From the dread hour so near!

If I could but draw courage from the light Of thy clear eye, that ever shone to bless! —Not now! 'twill not be now!—my aching sight Drinks from that fount a flood of tenderness, Bearing all strength away!

Leave me!—thou com'st between my heart and heaven! I would be still, in voiceless prayer to die. Why must our souls thus love, and thus be riven? —Return!—thy parting wakes mine agony! —Oh! yet awhile delay!