Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Charlotte, Emily, Anne Brontë (Illustrated) (411 page)

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Authors: CHARLOTTE BRONTE,EMILY BRONTE,ANNE BRONTE,PATRICK BRONTE,ELIZABETH GASKELL

BOOK: Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Charlotte, Emily, Anne Brontë (Illustrated)
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Where thou dost stand — an hour ago,
And round his feet three rivers ran,
Of equal depth, and equal flow —
 
A golden stream — and one like blood;
And one like sapphire seemed to be;
But, where they joined their triple flood
It tumbled in an inky sea
The spirit sent his dazzling gaze
Down through that ocean’s gloomy night;
Then, kindling all, with sudden blaze,
The glad deep sparkled wide and bright —
 
White as the sun, far, far more fair
Than its divided sources were!”
 
“And even for that spirit, seer,
I’ve watched and sought my life-time long;
Sought him in heaven, hell, earth, and air,
An endless search, and always wrong.
Had I but seen his glorious eye
ONCE light the clouds that wilder me;
I ne’er had raised this coward cry
To cease to think, and cease to be;
 
I ne’er had called oblivion blest,
Nor stretching eager hands to death,
Implored to change for senseless rest
This sentient soul, this living breath —
 
Oh, let me die — that power and will
Their cruel strife may close;
And conquered good, and conquering ill
Be lost in one repose!”

 

 

 

 

REMEMBRANCE.

 
 
Cold in the earth — and the deep snow piled above thee,
Far, far, removed, cold in the dreary grave!
Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time’s all-severing wave?
 
Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover
Over the mountains, on that northern shore,
Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover
Thy noble heart for ever, ever more?
 
Cold in the earth — and fifteen wild Decembers,
From those brown hills, have melted into spring:
Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers
After such years of change and suffering!
 
Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee,
While the world’s tide is bearing me along;
Other desires and other hopes beset me,
Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!
 
No later light has lightened up my heaven,
No second morn has ever shone for me;
All my life’s bliss from thy dear life was given,
All my life’s bliss is in the grave with thee.
 
But, when the days of golden dreams had perished,
And even Despair was powerless to destroy;
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy.
 
Then did I check the tears of useless passion —
 
Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;
Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten
Down to that tomb already more than mine.
 
And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain;
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?

 

 

 

 

A DEATH-SCENE.

 
 
“O day! he cannot die
When thou so fair art shining!
O Sun, in such a glorious sky,
So tranquilly declining;
 
He cannot leave thee now,
While fresh west winds are blowing,
And all around his youthful brow
Thy cheerful light is glowing!
 
Edward, awake, awake —
 
The golden evening gleams
Warm and bright on Arden’s lake —
 
Arouse thee from thy dreams!
 
Beside thee, on my knee,
My dearest friend, I pray
That thou, to cross the eternal sea,
Wouldst yet one hour delay:
 
I hear its billows roar —
 
I see them foaming high;
But no glimpse of a further shore
Has blest my straining eye.
 
Believe not what they urge
Of Eden isles beyond;
Turn back, from that tempestuous surge,
To thy own native land.
 
It is not death, but pain
That struggles in thy breast —
 
Nay, rally, Edward, rouse again;
I cannot let thee rest!”
 
One long look, that sore reproved me
For the woe I could not bear —
 
One mute look of suffering moved me
To repent my useless prayer:
 
And, with sudden check, the heaving
Of distraction passed away;
Not a sign of further grieving
Stirred my soul that awful day.
 
Paled, at length, the sweet sun setting;
Sunk to peace the twilight breeze:
Summer dews fell softly, wetting
Glen, and glade, and silent trees.
 
Then his eyes began to weary,
Weighed beneath a mortal sleep;
And their orbs grew strangely dreary,
Clouded, even as they would weep.
 
But they wept not, but they changed not,
Never moved, and never closed;
Troubled still, and still they ranged not —
 
Wandered not, nor yet reposed!
 
So I knew that he was dying —
 
Stooped, and raised his languid head;
Felt no breath, and heard no sighing,
So I knew that he was dead.

 

 

 

 

SONG.

 
 
The linnet in the rocky dells,
The moor-lark in the air,
The bee among the heather bells
That hide my lady fair:
 
The wild deer browse above her breast;
The wild birds raise their brood;
And they, her smiles of love caressed,
Have left her solitude!
 
I ween, that when the grave’s dark wall
Did first her form retain,
They thought their hearts could ne’er recall
The light of joy again.
 
They thought the tide of grief would flow
Unchecked through future years;
But where is all their anguish now,
And where are all their tears?
 
Well, let them fight for honour’s breath,
Or pleasure’s shade pursue —
 
The dweller in the land of death
Is changed and careless too.
 
And, if their eyes should watch and weep
Till sorrow’s source were dry,
She would not, in her tranquil sleep,
Return a single sigh!
 
Blow, west-wind, by the lonely mound,
And murmur, summer-streams —

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