No More Learning

many a night on this lone couch reclined,
My dreaming fear with storms hath winged the wind,
And deemed the breath that faintly fanned thy sail
The murmuring prelude of the ruder gale;
Though soft--it seemed the low prophetic dirge,
That mourned thee floating on the savage surge:
Still would I rise to rouse the beacon fire,
Lest spies less true should let the blaze expire;
And many a restless hour outwatched each star,
And morning came--and still thou wert afar. 380
Oh! how the chill blast on my bosom blew,
And day broke dreary on my troubled view,
And still I gazed and gazed--and not a prow
Was granted to my tears--my truth--my vow!
At length--'twas noon--I hailed and blest the mast
That met my sight--it neared--Alas! it passed!
Another came--Oh God! 'twas thine at last!
Would that those days were over! wilt thou ne'er,
My Conrad! learn the joys of peace to share?
Sure thou hast more than wealth, and many a home 390
As bright as this invites us not to roam:
Thou know'st it is not peril that I fear,
I only tremble when thou art not here;
Then not for mine, but that far dearer life,
Which flies from love and languishes for strife--
How strange that heart, to me so tender still,
Should war with Nature and its better will! "

"Yea, strange indeed--that heart hath long been changed;
Worm-like 'twas trampled--adder-like avenged--
Without one hope on earth beyond thy love, 400
And scarce a glimpse of mercy from above.
Yet the same feeling which thou dost condemn,
My very love to thee is hate to them,
So closely mingling here, that disentwined,
I cease to love thee when I love Mankind:
Yet dread not this--the proof of all the past
Assures the future that my love will last;
But--Oh, Medora! nerve thy gentler heart;
This hour again--but not for long--we part. "

"This hour we part!
--my heart foreboded this: 410
Thus ever fade my fairy dreams of bliss.
This hour--it cannot be--this hour away!
Yon bark hath hardly anchored in the bay:
Her consort still is absent, and her crew
Have need of rest before they toil anew;
My Love! thou mock'st my weakness; and wouldst steel
My breast before the time when it must feel;
But trifle now no more with my distress,
Such mirth hath less of play than bitterness.
Be silent, Conrad! --dearest! come and share 420
The feast these hands delighted to prepare;
Light toil! to cull and dress thy frugal fare!
See, I have plucked the fruit that promised best,
And where not sure, perplexed, but pleased, I guessed
At such as seemed the fairest; thrice the hill
My steps have wound to try the coolest rill;
Yes! thy Sherbet to-night will sweetly flow,
See how it sparkles in its vase of snow!
The grapes' gay juice thy bosom never cheers;
Thou more than Moslem when the cup appears: 430
Think not I mean to chide--for I rejoice
What others deem a penance is thy choice.
But come, the board is spread; our silver lamp
Is trimmed, and heeds not the Sirocco's damp:
Then shall my handmaids while the time along,
And join with me the dance, or wake the song;
Or my guitar, which still thou lov'st to hear,
Shall soothe or lull--or, should it vex thine ear,
We'll turn the tale, by Ariosto told,
Of fair Olympia loved and left of old. [204] 440
Why, thou wert worse than he who broke his vow
To that lost damsel, should thou leave me _now_--
Or even that traitor chief--I've seen thee smile,
When the clear sky showed Ariadne's Isle,
Which I have pointed from these cliffs the while:
And thus half sportive--half in fear--I said,
Lest Time should raise that doubt to more than dread,
Thus Conrad, too, will quit me for the main:
And he deceived me--for--he came again! "

"Again, again--and oft again--my Love! 450
If there be life below, and hope above,
He will return--but now, the moments bring
The time of parting with redoubled wing:
The why, the where--what boots it now to tell?
Since all must end in that wild word--Farewell!