Volume I Part 2 (2/2)
Seven years, alas, to have received No tidings of an only child; To have despair'd, and have believ'd, 10 And be for evermore beguil'd; Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss!
I catch at them, and then I miss; Was ever darkness like to this?
He was among the prime in worth, An object beauteous to behold; Well born, well bred; I sent him forth Ingenuous, innocent, and bold: If things ensued that wanted grace, As hath been said, they were not base; 20 And never blush was on my face.
Ah! little doth the Young One dream, When full of play and childish cares, What power hath even his wildest scream, Heard by his Mother unawares!
He knows it not, he cannot guess: Years to a Mother bring distress; But do not make her love the less.
Neglect me! no I suffer'd long From that ill thought; and being blind, 30 Said, ”Pride shall help me in my wrong; Kind mother have I been, as kind As ever breathed:” and that is true; I've wet my path with tears like dew, Weeping for him when no one knew.
My Son, if thou be humbled, poor, Hopeless of honour and of gain, Oh! do not dread thy mother's door; Think not of me with grief and pain: I now can see with better eyes; 40 And worldly grandeur I despise, And fortune with her gifts and lies
Alas! the fowls of Heaven have wings, And blasts of Heaven will aid their flight; They mount, how short a voyage brings The Wanderers back to their delight!
Chains tie us down by land and sea; And wishes, vain as mine, may be All that is left to comfort thee.
Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan, 50 Maim'd, mangled by inhuman men; Or thou upon a Desart thrown Inheritest the Lion's Den; Or hast been summoned to the Deep, Thou, Thou and all thy mates, to keep An incommunicable sleep.
I look for Ghosts; but none will force Their way to me; 'tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Betwixt the living and the dead; 60 For, surely, then I should have sight Of Him I wait for day and night, With love and longings infinite.
My apprehensions come in crowds; I dread the rustling of the gra.s.s; The very shadows of the clouds Have power to shake me as they pa.s.s: I question things, and do not find One that will answer to my mind; And all the world appears unkind. 70
Beyond partic.i.p.ation lie My troubles, and beyond relief: If any chance to heave a sigh They pity me, and not my grief.
Then come to me, my Son, or send Some tidings that my woes may end; I have no other earthly friend.
THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES.
That way look, my Infant, lo!
What a pretty baby show!
See the Kitten on the Wall, Sporting with the leaves that fall, Wither'd leaves, one, two, and three, From the lofty Elder-tree!
Through the calm and frosty air Of this morning bright and fair, Eddying round and round they sink Softly, slowly: one might think, 10 From the motions that are made, Every little leaf convey'd Sylph or Faery hither tending, To this lower world descending, Each invisible and mute, In his wavering parachute.
--But the Kitten, how she starts, Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts; First at one and then it's fellow Just as light and just as yellow; 20 There are many now--now one-- Now they stop; and there are none-- What intenseness of desire In her upward eye of fire!
With a tiger-leap half way Now she meets the coming prey, Lets it go as fast, and then Has it in her power again: Now she works with three or four, Like an Indian Conjuror; 30 Quick as he in feats of art, Far beyond in joy of heart.
Were her antics play'd in the eye Of a thousand Standers-by, Clapping hands with shout and stare, What would little Tabby care For the plaudits of the Crowd?
Over happy to be proud, Over wealthy in the treasure Of her own exceeding pleasure! 40
'Tis a pretty Baby-treat; Nor, I deem, for me unmeet: Here, for neither Babe or me, Other Play-mate can I see.
Of the countless living things, That with stir of feet and wings, (In the sun or under shade Upon bough or gra.s.sy blade) And with busy revellings, Chirp and song, and murmurings, 50 Made this Orchard's narrow s.p.a.ce, And this Vale so blithe a place; Mult.i.tudes are swept away Never more to breathe the day: Some are sleeping; some in Bands Travell'd into distant Lands; Others slunk to moor and wood, Far from human neighbourhood, And, among the Kinds that keep With us closer fellows.h.i.+p, 60 With us openly abide, All have laid their mirth aside, --Where is he that giddy Sprite, Blue-cap, with his colours bright, Who was blest as bird could be, Feeding in the apple-tree, Made such wanton spoil and rout, Turning blossoms inside out, Hung with head towards the ground, Flutter'd, perch'd; into a round 70 Bound himself, and then unbound; Lithest, gaudiest Harlequin, Prettiest Tumbler ever seen, Light of heart, and light of limb, What is now become of Him?
Lambs, that through the mountains went Frisking, bleating merriment, When the year was in it's prime, They are sober'd by this time.
If you look to vale or hill, 80 If you listen, all is still, Save a little neighbouring Rill; That from out the rocky ground Strikes a solitary sound.
Vainly glitters hill and plain, And the air is calm in vain; Vainly Morning spreads the lure Of a sky serene and pure; Creature none can she decoy Into open sign of joy: 90 Is it that they have a fear Of the dreary season near?
Or that other pleasures be Sweeter even than gaiety?
Yet, whate'er enjoyments dwell In the impenetrable cell Of the silent heart which Nature Furnishes to every Creature, Whatsoe'er we feel and know Too sedate for outward show, 100 Such a light of gladness breaks, Pretty Kitten! from thy freaks, Spreads with such a living grace O'er my little Laura's face; Yes, the sight so stirs and charms Thee, Baby, laughing in my arms, That almost I could repine That your transports are not mine, That I do not wholly fare Even as ye do, thoughtless Pair! 110 And I will have my careless season Spite of melancholy reason, Will walk through life in such a way That, when time brings on decay, Now and then I may possess Hours of perfect gladsomeness.
--Pleas'd by any random toy; By a Kitten's busy joy, Or an infant's laughing eye Sharing in the extacy; 120 I would fare like that or this, Find my wisdom in my bliss; Keep the sprightly soul awake, And have faculties to take Even from things by sorrow wrought Matter for a jocund thought; Spite of care, and spite of grief, To gambol with Life's falling Leaf.
<script>