Он, ask me not how long thy gentle love
Hath dwelt on me;
I only know 'tis long enough to prove
Thy constancy.
I cannot pause to number months, or days,
I know alone,
If to be faithful be Love's highest praise,
Thou wear'st the crown.
Oh, thou hast loved me long enough to show
Thou canst not range;
And long enough to bid experience know
How others change.
Oh, long enough for the upbraiding thought,
That ne'er till now,
I prized thy love's rich treasure as I ought,
My all below.
Yes, I have seen full many a dream depart
With faithless speed;
And some, who should have gently used my heart,
Have made it bleed.
And I have rued Affection's broken vow,
And felt the chill
Of Friendship's alter'd eye-but, dearest, thou
Art faithful still.
Is she not beautiful, although so pale?
The first May flowers are not more colourless
Than her white cheek; yet I recall the time
When she was call'd the rose-bud of our village.
There was a blush, half modesty, half health,
Upon her cheek fresh as the summer morn
With which she rose. A cloud of chestnut curls
Like twilight darken'd o'er her blue-vein'd brow;
And through their hazel curtains eyes whose light
Was like the violets when April skies
Have given their own pure colour to the leaves,
Shone sweet and silent as the twilight star.
And she was happy; innocence and hope
Make the young heart a paradise for love.
And she loved and was loved. The youth was one
That dwelt upon the waters. He had been
Where sweeps the blue Atlantic a wide world-
Had seen the sun light up the flowers like gems
In the bright Indian isles-had breathed the air
When sweet with cinnamon and gum and spice,
But he said that no air brought health or balm
Like that on his own hills, when it had swept
O'er orchards in their bloom, or hedges, where
Blossom'd the hawthorn and the honeysuckle ;-
That, but one voyage more and he would come
To his dear Ellen and her cottage home-
Dwell there in love and peace. And then he kiss'd
Her tears away, talk'd of the pleasant years
Which they should pass together-of the pride
lle would take in his constancy; Oh hope
Is very eloquent! and as the hours
Pass'd by their fireside in calm cheerfulness,
Ellen forgot to weep.
Of parting came; 'twas the first month of spring.
Like a green fan spread the horse-chestnut leaves,
A shower of yellow bloom was on the elm,
The daisies shone like silver, and the boughs
Were cover'd with their blossoms, and the sky
Was like an augury of hope, so clear
So beautifully blue. Love! oh young Love!
Why hast thou not security? Thou art
Like a bright river on whose course the weeds
Are thick and heavy; briars are on its banks,
And jagged stones and rocks are mid its waves.
Conscious of its own beauty, it will rush
Over its many obstacles, and pant
For some green valley as its quiet home.
Either it rushes with a desperate leap
Over its barriers, foaming passionate,
But prison'd still; or winding languidly
Becomes dark, like oblivion, or else wastes
Itself away. This is Love's history!
They parted one spring evening; the green sea
Had scarce a curl upon its wave; the ship
Rode like a Queen of Ocean.-Ellen wept,
But not disconsolate, for she had hope;
She knew not then the bitterness of tears.
But night closed in, and with the night there came
Tempest upon the wind; the ocean light
Glared like a funeral pile; all else was black
And terrible as death. We heard a sound
Come from the ocean-one lone signal gun,
Asking for help in vain-follow'd by shrieks,
Borne by the ravening gale; then deepest silence :
Some gallant souls had perish'd. With the first
Dim light of morn we sought the beach; and there
Lay fragments of a ship, and human shapes
Ghastly and gash'd. But the worst sight of all
A sight of living misery met our gaze;
Seated upon a rock, drench'd by the rain,
Her hair torn by the wind, there Ellen sat,
Pale, motionless. How could love guide her there?
A corpse lay by her, in her arms its head
Found a fond pillow; and o'er it she watch'd
As the young mother watches her first child.
It was her lover.
OH! it is sweet, amid the waste of years,
To meet with one-be he till then unknown— That cometh from the land where first our feet have gone.
When friends are lost, hopes wither, and our tears Freeze in their fountains-but a voice breaks
Hearts warm, hopes bloom, and eyes weep love anew!
It is a soft spring rain that doth awaken
The flowers of Paradise in grief to know
The friends of youth more bless'd, or dream that it is so.
The illusive mirror? it betrayeth not—
Is it not sweet though sad to prove them unforgot?
"Wear this for me."-As You Like It, Act 1. Sc. 2.
OH! wear this simple chain for me,
That, when long years have pass'd away,
Each sever'd link may offer thee
An emblem of my own decay.
Yet, no! an hour may see that chain
United by the hand of art;
But what can ever join again,
The rent links of a broken heart!
Recall the hours when Love's fond kiss
Gave transport to our cloudless youth;
Which linger'd fondly—like my bliss-
Then fled for ever-like thy truth.
The cold world's frown-the proud man's scorn-
To be by all forgot—reviled-
Oh! these and more I could have borne,
Had'st thou but loved-hadst thou but smiled.
My love has been "too deep for tears,"
And sighs have told it—'twas confess'd
By ruin'd health and blighted years,
By fallen hopes and vanish'd rest-
Yet wear this simple chain for me,
And keep it as a parting token
Of one,
whose youthful love to thee,
Unlike his heart, remain'd unbroken.
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