SONG OF ITALIAN MAIDENS.
1.
Sisters , kneel beside this bier,
Breathe the prayer, and shed the tear—
Young Marcellus sleepeth here.
2.
Young Marcellus sleeping lies,
With his slumber-sealéd eyes
Waiting God's great sun to rise—
3.
Waiting to re-ope once more
On a sweeter summer shore
By the eternal water's roar.
4.
Scatter round about his bed
Violets, ere their scent has fled,—
Winter roses white and red.
5.
Lay upon his gentle breast
All the flowers that he loved best—
Pansies be the mournfullest.
6.
Though this bed has grown a bier,
Scatter snowdrops, scatter here
All the promise of the year:—
7.
Being born to bloom and die
They perchance may typify
Him who here doth sleeping lie:
8.
Since we love those flowers the best
That are plucked the earliest—
As it were for God's own breast:
9.
Love them better far than those
The maturer months disclose—
Flaunting tulip, gaudy rose:
10.
Love them for the proof they give
That the world's great heart doth live,—
They the while so fugitive.
11.
Such was he who lieth here,
With his leaves all drooping sere
In the spring-time of his year.
12.
Here he came a wanderer,
From the Northern Isles that are
Watchéd by the western star.
13.
Here he came, to feast his eyes
On an earthly heaven, with skies
Borrowed still from Paradise:
14.
Came with rapture to behold
Purple isles and seas of gold,
And the dread Volcano old:
15.
Came with wonder to survey
All the magic of the Bay,
And the towns restored to-day—
16.
Or to pluck the flowers that bloom
By the Mantuan Poet's tomb
O'er the grotto's arch of gloom;—
17.
Or along Sorrento's shore.
Tasso's birth-place, to think o'er
All his tears for Leonore;—
18.
Or to see the sun decline
To his Ischian bath of wine
'Mid the hush'd sea hyaline;—
19.
Or, perchance, still more to hear
Music—to his soul so dear.
Singing in her native sphere:
20.
Music that appears to be
But the air of Italy,
Voicéd by her sky and sea.
21.
All these projects, howsoe'er
Hopeful, healthful, wise or fair,
Swallowed in this blank despair.
22.
He, the gentle, wise, and good,
Manhood's loftiest aims pursued
With a heart of maidenhood.
23.
Of a proud ancestral name,
Still it was his boast to claim
The sweet bard's reflected fame:
24.
The sweet bard, whose magic lays
Could upon his shield emblaze
Its most precious heraldries:
25.
Showing nobly thus how yet
Genius can its diamond set
In the proudest coronet.
26.
Oh! his heart was pure as snow,
Firm when winter winds might blow,
Melting in affection's glow:
27.
Firm and fond with filial love
To one gentle heart, above
All the world; though manhood strove
28.
With its feverish energy
To supplant it, still did he
Love that fair maternity:
29.
Love her with the same sweet zest
Here, where he lay down to rest
As of old upon her breast:
30.
Leaving her in days to come
A sweet memory to illume
Her half-orphan'd twilight gloom.
31.
Not in pleasure's fairy bowers,
Dallying with the deadly flowers,
Passed with him the flying hours;—
32.
No, he raised his voice to call
Mightiest minds around the wall
Of the workman's wonder-hall;—
33.
Raised his voice, and plied his pen,
To enlarge the mental ken
Of “his humbler fellow-men”:
34.
Or a soothing charm would find
In his generous praise refined
For some shy, secluded mind.
35.
His the homage of the heart
Dearer to a child of art
Far than fame's more prizéd part.
36.
But the bright career is o'er,
Ah! that heart can beat no more—
Wail him, Erin, on thy shore.
37.
Wail him, thou, his native land,
On thy lone lamenting strand,
Bow the head, and wring the hand.
38.
Wail him, thou, that to thy cost,
Many a hopeful son hast lost,
Soonest those who loved thee most.
39.
Wail the taste, the toil severe,
The rich harvest of each year,—
All extinguished on this bier.
40.
Ah! not all,—dear shade forgive
Such despair! they yet shall live
In the example that they give;—
41.
Live amid the glow they wake
In new hearts, for her dear sake,
Her, whose own sad heart might break,
42.
If, like his, some generous soul
Forced by love beyond control,
Did not with her griefs condole,—
43.
Proud to be her child, although
Still she totters to and fro
'Neath her lightened load of woe—
44.
Proud to wear upon his breast,
Proud to blazon on his crest
The poor Shamrock of the West.
45.
If the night has passed away,
As we're told, and rosy day
Paints the East with prophet-ray—
46.
Let the beam that puts to flight
The long dark, bring forth to light
Those who watched her through the night:
47.
Those whose heart she could engage
In some studious hermitage,
As upon a busier stage.
48.
And among the best and last
Let its lingering light be cast
Round thy dearest name—B ELFAST .
1.
Sisters , kneel beside this bier,
Breathe the prayer, and shed the tear—
Young Marcellus sleepeth here.
2.
Young Marcellus sleeping lies,
With his slumber-sealéd eyes
Waiting God's great sun to rise—
3.
Waiting to re-ope once more
On a sweeter summer shore
By the eternal water's roar.
4.
Scatter round about his bed
Violets, ere their scent has fled,—
Winter roses white and red.
5.
Lay upon his gentle breast
All the flowers that he loved best—
Pansies be the mournfullest.
6.
Though this bed has grown a bier,
Scatter snowdrops, scatter here
All the promise of the year:—
7.
Being born to bloom and die
They perchance may typify
Him who here doth sleeping lie:
8.
Since we love those flowers the best
That are plucked the earliest—
As it were for God's own breast:
9.
Love them better far than those
The maturer months disclose—
Flaunting tulip, gaudy rose:
10.
Love them for the proof they give
That the world's great heart doth live,—
They the while so fugitive.
11.
Such was he who lieth here,
With his leaves all drooping sere
In the spring-time of his year.
12.
Here he came a wanderer,
From the Northern Isles that are
Watchéd by the western star.
13.
Here he came, to feast his eyes
On an earthly heaven, with skies
Borrowed still from Paradise:
14.
Came with rapture to behold
Purple isles and seas of gold,
And the dread Volcano old:
15.
Came with wonder to survey
All the magic of the Bay,
And the towns restored to-day—
16.
Or to pluck the flowers that bloom
By the Mantuan Poet's tomb
O'er the grotto's arch of gloom;—
17.
Or along Sorrento's shore.
Tasso's birth-place, to think o'er
All his tears for Leonore;—
18.
Or to see the sun decline
To his Ischian bath of wine
'Mid the hush'd sea hyaline;—
19.
Or, perchance, still more to hear
Music—to his soul so dear.
Singing in her native sphere:
20.
Music that appears to be
But the air of Italy,
Voicéd by her sky and sea.
21.
All these projects, howsoe'er
Hopeful, healthful, wise or fair,
Swallowed in this blank despair.
22.
He, the gentle, wise, and good,
Manhood's loftiest aims pursued
With a heart of maidenhood.
23.
Of a proud ancestral name,
Still it was his boast to claim
The sweet bard's reflected fame:
24.
The sweet bard, whose magic lays
Could upon his shield emblaze
Its most precious heraldries:
25.
Showing nobly thus how yet
Genius can its diamond set
In the proudest coronet.
26.
Oh! his heart was pure as snow,
Firm when winter winds might blow,
Melting in affection's glow:
27.
Firm and fond with filial love
To one gentle heart, above
All the world; though manhood strove
28.
With its feverish energy
To supplant it, still did he
Love that fair maternity:
29.
Love her with the same sweet zest
Here, where he lay down to rest
As of old upon her breast:
30.
Leaving her in days to come
A sweet memory to illume
Her half-orphan'd twilight gloom.
31.
Not in pleasure's fairy bowers,
Dallying with the deadly flowers,
Passed with him the flying hours;—
32.
No, he raised his voice to call
Mightiest minds around the wall
Of the workman's wonder-hall;—
33.
Raised his voice, and plied his pen,
To enlarge the mental ken
Of “his humbler fellow-men”:
34.
Or a soothing charm would find
In his generous praise refined
For some shy, secluded mind.
35.
His the homage of the heart
Dearer to a child of art
Far than fame's more prizéd part.
36.
But the bright career is o'er,
Ah! that heart can beat no more—
Wail him, Erin, on thy shore.
37.
Wail him, thou, his native land,
On thy lone lamenting strand,
Bow the head, and wring the hand.
38.
Wail him, thou, that to thy cost,
Many a hopeful son hast lost,
Soonest those who loved thee most.
39.
Wail the taste, the toil severe,
The rich harvest of each year,—
All extinguished on this bier.
40.
Ah! not all,—dear shade forgive
Such despair! they yet shall live
In the example that they give;—
41.
Live amid the glow they wake
In new hearts, for her dear sake,
Her, whose own sad heart might break,
42.
If, like his, some generous soul
Forced by love beyond control,
Did not with her griefs condole,—
43.
Proud to be her child, although
Still she totters to and fro
'Neath her lightened load of woe—
44.
Proud to wear upon his breast,
Proud to blazon on his crest
The poor Shamrock of the West.
45.
If the night has passed away,
As we're told, and rosy day
Paints the East with prophet-ray—
46.
Let the beam that puts to flight
The long dark, bring forth to light
Those who watched her through the night:
47.
Those whose heart she could engage
In some studious hermitage,
As upon a busier stage.
48.
And among the best and last
Let its lingering light be cast
Round thy dearest name—B ELFAST .
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