No More Learning

Hope, how false! how blind all human thought!
Whether in earth sank deep the dews of woe
For the bright spirit that had pass'd away,
Think, ye who listen! they who witness'd know.
'Twas the first hour, of April the sixth day,
That bound me, and, alas! now sets me free:
How Fortune doth her fickleness display!
None ever grieved for loss of liberty
Or doom of death as I for freedom grieve,
And life prolong'd, who only ask to die.
Due to the world it had been her to leave,
And me, of earlier birth, to have laid low,
Nor of its pride and boast the age bereave.
How great the grief it is not mine to show,
Scarce dare I think, still less by numbers try,
Or by vain speech to ease my weight of woe.
Virtue is dead, beauty and courtesy!
The sorrowing dames her honour'd couch around
"For what are we reserved? " in anguish cry;
"Where now in woman will all grace be found?
Who with her wise and gentle words be blest,
And drink of her sweet song th' angelic sound? "
The spirit parting from that beauteous breast,
In its meek virtues wrapt, and best prepared,
Had with serenity the heavens imprest:
No power of darkness, with ill influence, dared
Within a space so holy to intrude,
Till Death his terrible triumph had declared.
Then hush'd was all lament, all fear subdued;
Each on those beauteous features gazed intent,
And from despair was arm'd with fortitude.
As a pure flame that not by force is spent,
But faint and fainter softly dies away,
Pass'd gently forth in peace the soul content:
And as a light of clear and steady ray,
When fails the source from which its brightness flows,
She to the last held on her-wonted way.
Pale, was she? no, but white as shrouding snows,
That, when the winds are lull'd, fall silently,
She seem'd as one o'erwearied to repose.
E'en as in balmy slumbers lapt to lie
(The spirit parted from the form below),
In her appear'd what th' unwise term to die;
And Death sate beauteous on her beauteous brow.

DACRE.


PART II

_La notte che segui l' orribil caso. _


The night--that follow'd the disastrous blow
Which my spent sun removed in heaven to glow,
And left me here a blind and desolate man--
Now far advanced, to spread o'er earth began
The sweet spring dew which harbingers the dawn,
When slumber's veil and visions are withdrawn;
When, crown'd with oriental gems, and bright
As newborn day, upon my tranced sight
My Lady lighted from her starry sphere:
With kind speech and soft sigh, her hand so dear.
So long desired in vain, to mine she press'd,
While heavenly sweetness instant warm'd my breast:
"Remember her, who, from the world apart,
Kept all your course since known to that young heart. "
Pensive she spoke, with mild and modest air
Seating me by her, on a soft bank, where,
In greenest shade, the beech and laurel met.
"Remember? ah! how should I e'er forget?
Yet tell me, idol mine," in tears I said,
"Live you? --or dreamt I--is, is Laura dead? "
"Live I? I only live, but you indeed
Are dead, and must be, till the last best hour
Shall free you from the flesh and vile world's power.