Remembrance. AN hath a weary pilgrimage, As through the world he wends; On every stage from youth to age Still discontent attends. With heaviness he casts his eye And still remembers with a sigh To school the little exile goes, And cares where love has no concern, Hope lengthens as she counts the hours Before his wished return. From hard control and tyrant rules, Youth comes; the toils and cares of life Torment the restless mind; Where shall the tired and harassed heart Its consolation find? Then is not Youth, as Fancy tells, Life's summer prime of joy? And Youth remembers with a sigh Maturer Manhood now arrives, And other thoughts come on, So reaches he the latter stage That all is vanity below. Life's vain delusions are gone by; Its idle hopes are o'er; Yet Age remembers with a sigh The days that are no more. Fare Thee Well. ARE thee well! and if forever, Still for ever, fare thee well; Even though unforgiving, never Would that breast were bared before thee, Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show! Then thou wouldst at last discover 'Twas not well to spurn it so. Though the world for this commend thee Although my many faults defaced me, Than the one which once embraced me, Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not: Still thine own its life retaineth Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; And the undying thought which paineth Is that we no more may meet. These are words of deeper sorrow And when thou wouldst solace gather, When her little hands shall press thee, Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee- Should her lineaments resemble Those thou never more mayst see, Then thy heart will softly tremble With a pulse yet true to me. All my faults, perchance, thou knowest, All my madness none can know; All my hopes, where'er thou goest, Whither, yet with thee they go! Every feeling hath been shaken, Pride, which not a world could bow, Bow to thee-by thee forsaken, Even my soul forsakes me now: But 'tis done-all words are idle- Fare thee well!-thus disunited, Torn from every nearer tie; Seared in heart, and lone and blighted More than this I scarce can die! |