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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391511" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Arabella Stuart</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">And is not love in vain, <br>Torture enough without a living tomb?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Byron</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fermossi al fin il cor che balzò tanto.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pindemonte</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'TWAS but a dream!–I saw the stag leap free,<br>Under the boughs where early birds were singing,<br>I stood, o'ershadowed by the greenwood tree,<br>And heard, it seemed, a sudden bugle ringing<br>Far thro' a royal forest: then the fawn <br>Shot, like a gleam of light, from grassy lawn<br>To secret covert; and the smooth turf shook,<br>And lilies quiver'd by the glade's lone brook, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And young leaves trembled, as, in fleet career,<br>A princely band, with horn, and hound, and spear,<br>Like a rich masque swept forth. I saw the dance<br>Of their white plumes, that bore a silvery glance<br>Into the deep wood's heart; and all pass'd by<br>Save one–I met the smile of one clear eye,<br>Flashing out joy to mine. Yes, thou wert there,<br>Seymour! a soft wind blew the clustering hair<br>Back from thy gallant brow, as thou didst rein<br>Thy courser, turning from that gorgeous train,<br>And fling, methought, thy hunting-spear away,<br>And, lightly graceful in thy green array,<br>Bound to my side; and we, that met and parted,<br>Ever in dread of some dark watchful power,<br>Won back to childhood's trust, and fearless-hearted,<br>Blent the glad fulness of our thoughts that hour,<br>Even like the mingling of sweet streams, beneath<br>Dim woven leaves, and midst the floating breath<br>Of hidden forest flowers. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis past!–I wake,<br>A captive, and alone, and far from thee,<br>My love and friend!–Yet fostering, for thy sake,<br>A quenchless hope of happiness to be,<br>And feeling still my woman's spirit strong,<br>In the deep faith which lifts from earthly wrong<br>A heavenward glance. I know, I know our love<br>Shall yet call gentle angels from above,<br>By its undying fervour; and prevail,<br>Sending a breath, as of the spring's first gale,<br>Thro' hearts now cold; and, raising its bright face,<br>With a free gush of sunny tears, erase<br>The characters of anguish. In this trust,<br>I bear, I strive, I bow not to the dust,<br>That I may bring thee back no faded form,<br>No bosom chill'd and blighted by the storm,<br>But all my youth's first treasures, when we meet,<br>Making past sorrow, by communion, sweet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thou too art in bonds!–yet droop thou not,<br>Oh, my belov'd!–there is one hopeless lot,<br>But one, and that not ours. Beside the dead<br>There sits the grief that mantles up its head,<br>Loathing the laughter and proud pomp of light,<br>When darkness, from the vainly-doting sight, <br>Covers its beautiful! 1 If thou wert gone<br>To the grave's bosom, with thy radiant brow,–<br>If thy deep-thrilling voice, with that low tone<br>Of earnest tenderness, which now, ev'n now,<br>Seems floating thro' my soul, were music taken <br>For ever from this world,–oh! thus forsaken,<br>Could I bear on?–thou liv'st, thou liv'st, thou'rt mine!<br>–With this glad thought I make my heart a shrine,<br>And, by the lamp which quenchless there shall burn,<br>Sit, a lone watcher for the day's return. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And lo! the joy that cometh with the morning,<br>Brightly victorious o'er the hours of care!<br>I have not watch'd in vain, serenely scorning<br>The wild and busy whispers of despair!<br>Thou hast sent tidings, as of heaven.–I wait<br>The hour, the sign, for blessed flight to thee.<br>Oh! for the skylark's wing that seeks its mate<br>As a star shoots!–but on the breezy sea<br>We shall meet soon.–To think of such an hour!<br>Will not my heart, o'erburdened by its bliss,<br>Faint and give way within me, as a flower<br>Borne down and perishing by noontide's kiss?<br>–Yet shall I fear that lot?–the perfect rest,<br>The full deep joy of dying on thy breast,<br>After long-suffering won? So rich a close<br>Too seldom crowns with peace affection's woes. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>V</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sunset!–I tell each moment–from the skies<br>The last red splendour floats along my wall,<br>Like a king's banner!–Now it melts, it dies!<br>I see one star–I hear–'twas not the call,<br>Th' expected voice; my quick heart throbb'd too soon.<br>I must keep vigil till yon rising moon<br>Shower down less golden light. Beneath her beam<br>Thro' my lone lattice pour'd, I sit and dream<br>Of summer-lands afar, where holy love,<br>Under the vine or in the citron-grove,<br>May breathe from terror. <br>Now the night grows deep,<br>And silent as its clouds, and full of sleep.<br>I hear my veins beat.–Hark! a bell's slow chime.<br>My heart strikes with it.–Yet again–'tis time! <br>A step!–a voice!–or but a rising breeze?<br>–Hark! haste!–I come, to meet thee on the seas. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>VI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now never more, oh! never, in the worth<br>Of its pure cause, let sorrowing love on earth<br>Trust fondly–never more!–the hope is crush'd<br>That lit my life, the voice within me hush'd<br>That spoke sweet oracles; and I return<br>To lay my youth, as in a burial-urn,<br>Where sunshine may not find it.–All is lost!<br>No tempest met our barks–no billow toss'd;<br>Yet were they sever'd, ev'n as we must be,<br>That so have lov'd, so striven our hearts to free<br>From their close-coiling fate! In vain–in vain!<br>The dark links meet, and clasp themselves again,<br>And press out life.–Upon the deck I stood,<br>And a white sail came gliding o'er the flood,<br>Like some proud bird of ocean; then mine eye<br>Strained out, one moment earlier to descry<br>The form it ached for, and the bark's career<br>Seem'd slow to that fond yearning: it drew near, </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Fraught with our foes!–What boots it to recall<br>The strife, the tears? Once more a prison-wall<br>Shuts the green hills and woodlands from my sight,<br>And joyous glance of waters to the light,<br>And thee, my Seymour, thee! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I will not sink! <br>Thou, thou hast rent the heavy chain that bound thee;<br>And this shall be my strength–the joy to think<br>That thou mayst wander with heaven's breath around thee;<br>And all the laughing sky! This thought shall yet<br>Shine o'er my heart, a radiant amulet,<br>Guarding it from despair. Thy bonds are broken,<br>And unto me, I know, thy true love's token<br>Shall one day be deliverance, tho' the years<br>Lie dim between, o'erhung with mists of tears. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>VII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My friend! my friend! where art thou? Day by day,<br>Gliding, like some dark mournful stream, away,<br>My silent youth flows from me. Spring, the while,<br>Comes and rains beauty on the kindling boughs<br>Round hall and hamlet; Summer, with her smile,<br>Fills the green forest;–young hearts breathe their vows;<br>Brothers, long parted, meet; fair children rise<br>Round the glad board; Hope laughs from loving eyes;<br>–All this is in the world!–These joys lie sown,<br>The dew of every path. On one alone<br>Their freshness may not fall–the stricken deer,<br>Dying of thirst with all the waters near. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye are from dingle and fresh glade, ye flowers!<br>By some kind hand to cheer my dungeon sent;<br>O'er you the oak shed down the summer showers,<br>And the lark's nest was where your bright cups bent, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Quivering to breeze and rain-drop, like the sheen<br>Of twilight stars. On you Heaven's eye hath been,<br>Thro' the leaves pouring its dark sultry bIue<br>Into your glowing hearts; the bee to you<br>Hath murmur'd, and the rill.–My soul grows faint<br>With passionate yearning, as its quick dreams paint<br>Your haunts by dell and stream,–the green, the free,<br>The full of all sweet sound,–the shut from me! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There went a swift bird singing past my cell–<br>O Love and Freedom! ye are lovely things! <br>With you the peasant on the hills may dwell,<br>And by the streams; but I–the blood of kings,<br>A proud unmingling river, thro' my veins<br>Flows in lone brightness,–and its gifts are chains!<br>–Kings!–I had silent visions of deep bliss, <br>Leaving their thrones far distant, and for this </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am cast under their triumphal car,<br>An insect to be crushed.–Oh! Heaven is far,–<br>Earth pitiless! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dost thou forget me, Seymour? I am prov'd <br>So long, so sternly! Seymour, my belov'd!<br>There are such tales of holy marvels done<br>By strong affection, of deliverance won<br>Thro' its prevailing power! Are these things told<br>Till the young weep with rapture, and the old<br>Wonder, yet dare not doubt,–and thou, oh! thou,<br>Dost thou forget me in my hope's decay?–<br>Thou canst not!–thro' the silent night, ev'n now,<br>I, that need prayer so much, awake and pray<br>Still first for thee.–Oh! gentle, gentle friend! <br>How shall I bear this anguish to the end? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Aid!–comes there yet no aid?–the voice of blood<br>Passes Heaven's gate, ev'n ere the crimson flood </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sinks thro' the greensward!–is there not a cry<br>From the wrung heart, of power, thro' agony,<br>To pierce the clouds? Hear, Mercy! hear me! None<br>That bleed and weep beneath the smiling sun,<br>Have heavier cause!–yet hear!–my soul grows dark–<br>Who hears the last shriek from the sinking bark,<br>On the mid seas, and with the storm alone, <br>And bearing to th' abyss, unseen, unknown,<br>Its freight of human hearts?–th' o'ermastering wave!<br>Who shall tell how it rush'd–and none to save? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou hast forsaken me! I feel, I know,<br>There would be rescue if this were not so.<br>Thou'rt at the chase, thou'rt at the festive board,<br>Thou'rt where the red wine free and high is pour'd,<br>Thou'rt where the dancers meet!–a magic glass<br>Is set within my soul, and proud shapes pass,<br>Flushing it o'er with pomp from bower and hall;– <br>I see one shadow, stateliest there of all– </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thine! What dost thou amidst the bright and fair,<br>Whispering light words, and mocking my despair?<br>It is not welI of thee!–my love was more<br>Than fiery song may breathe, deep thought explore; <br>And there thou smilest while my heart is dying,<br>With all its blighted hopes around it lying;<br>Ev'n thou, on whom they hung their last green leaf–<br>Yet smile, smile on! too bright art thou for grief. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Death!–what, is death a lock'd and treasur'd thing, <br>Guarded by swords of fire? 2 a hidden spring,<br>A fabled fruit, that I should thus endure,<br>As if the world within me held no cure?<br>Wherefore not spread free wings–Heaven, Heaven! control<br>These thoughts–they rush–I look into my soul<br>As down a gulf, and tremble at th' array<br>Of fierce forms crowding it! Give strength to pray,<br>So shall their dark host pass. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The storm is still'd.<br>Father in Heaven! Thou, only thou, canst sound<br>The heart's great deep, with floods of anguish fill'd, <br>For human line too fearfully profound.<br>Therefore, forgive, my Father! if Thy child,<br>Rock'd on its heaving darkness, hath grown wild,<br>And sinn'd in her despair! It well may be,<br>That Thou wouldst lead my spirit back to Thee–<br>By the crush'd hope too long on this world pour'd,<br>The stricken love which hath perchance ador'd<br>A mortal in Thy place! Now, let me strive<br>With Thy strong arm no more! Forgive, forgive!<br>Take me to peace! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And peace at last is nigh. <br>A sign is on my brow, a token sent<br>Th' o'erwearied dust, from home: no breeze flits by,<br>But calls me with a strange sweet whisper, blent<br>Of many mysteries. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hark! the warning tone<br>Deepens–its word is Death. Alone, alone, <br>And sad in youth, but chasten'd, I depart,<br>Bowing to heaven. Yet, yet my woman's heart<br>Shall wake a spirit and a power to bless,<br>Ev'n in this hour's o'ershadowing fearfulness,<br>Thee, its first love!–oh! tender still, and true! <br>Be it forgotten if mine anguish threw<br>Drops from its bitter fountain on thy name,<br>Tho' but a moment. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now, with fainting frame,<br>With soul just lingering on the flight begun,<br>To bind for thee its last dim thoughts in one,<br>I bless thee! Peace be on thy noble head,<br>Years of bright fame, when I am with the dead!<br>I bid this prayer survive me, and retain<br>Its might, again to bless thee, and again!<br>Thou hast been gather'd into my dark fate <br>Too much; too long, for my sake, desolate </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hath been thine exiled youth; but now take back,<br>From dying hands, thy freedom, and re-track<br>(After a few kind tears for her whose days<br>Went out in dreams of thee) the sunny ways <br>Of hope, and find thou happiness! Yet send,<br>Ev'n then, in silent hours, a thought, dear friend!<br>Down to my voiceless chamber; for thy love<br>Hath been to me all gifts of earth above,<br>Tho' bought with burning tears! It is the sting <br>Of death to leave that vainly-precious thing<br>In this cold world! What were it, then, if thou,<br>With thy fond eyes, wert gazing on me now?<br>Too keen a pang!–Farewell! and yet once more,<br>Farewell!–the passion of long years I pour <br>Into that word: thou hear'st not,–but the woe<br>And fervour of its tones may one day flow<br>To thy heart's holy place; there let them dwell–<br>We shall o'ersweep the grave to meet–Farewell!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Felicia+Dorothea+Hemans">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391511" data-title="Arabella Stuart de Felicia Dorothea Hemans" data-description="And is not love in vain, 
Torture enough without a living tomb?

Byron

Fermossi al fin il cor che balzò tanto.

Pindemonte

I

'TWAS but a dream!–I saw the stag leap free,
Under the boughs where early birds were singing,
I stood, o'ershadowed ..."></div>
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