The Poems of Felicia Hemans
Shall Faith rejoice, when Nature grieves the most.
Then comes her triumph! through the shadowy gloom,
Her star in glory rises from the tomb,
Mounts to the day-spring, leaves the cloud below,
And gilds the tears that cease not yet to flow!
Yes, all is o’er! fear, doubt, suspense are fled--
Let brighter thoughts be with the virtuous dead!
The final ordeal of the soul is past,
And the pale brow is seal’d to heaven at last![286]
And thou, loved spirit! for the skies mature,
Steadfast in faith, in meek devotion pure;
Thou that didst make the home thy presence bless’d
Bright with the sunshine of thy gentle breast,
Where peace a holy dwelling-place had found,
Whence beam’d her smile benignantly around;
Thou, that to bosoms widow’d and bereft
Dear, precious records of thy worth hast left,
The treasured gem of sorrowing hearts to be,
Till heaven recall surviving love to thee!
O cherish’d and revered! fond memory well
On thee, with sacred, sad delight, may dwell!
So pure, so blest thy life, that Death alone
Could make more perfect happiness thine own.
He came: thy cup of joy, serenely bright,
Full to the last, still flow’d in cloudless light;
He came--an angel, bearing from on high
The all it wanted--Immortality!
[286] “Till we have sealed the servants of God in their
foreheads.”--_Revelation_.
FROM THE SPANISH OF GARCILASO DE LA VEGA.
Divine Eliza!--since the sapphire sky
Thou measur’st now on angel wings, and feet
Sandall’d with immortality--oh, why
Of me forgetful? Wherefore not entreat
To hurry on the time, when I shall see
The veil of mortal being rent in twain,
And smile that I am free?
In the third circle of that happy land,
Shall we not seek together, hand in hand,
Another lovelier landscape, a new plain,
Other romantic streams and mountains blue,
And other vales, and a new shady shore,
When I may rest, and ever in my view
Keep thee, without the terror and surprise
Of being sunder’d more!
FROM THE ITALIAN OF SANNAZARO.
Oh! pure and blessèd soul,
That, from thy clay’s control
Escaped, hast sought and found thy native sphere,
And from thy crystal throne
Look’st down, with smiles alone,
On this vain scene of mortal hope and fear;
Thy happy feet have trod
The starry spangled road,
Celestial flocks by field and fountain guiding;
And from their erring track
Thou charm’st thy shepherds back,
With the soft music of thy gentle chiding.
Oh! who shall Death withstand--
Death, whose impartial hand
Levels the lowest plant and loftiest pine!
When shall our ears again
Drink in so sweet a strain,
Our eyes behold so fair a form as thine!
APPEARANCE OF THE SPIRIT OF THE CAPE TO VASCO DE GAMA.
(TRANSLATED FROM THE FIFTH BOOK OF THE LUSIAD OF CAMOENS.)
Propitious winds our daring bark impell’d
O’er seas which mortal ne’er till then beheld,
When as one eve, devoid of care, we stood
Watching the prow glide swiftly through the flood,
High o’er our heads arose a cloud so vast,
O’er sea and heaven a fearful shade it cast:
Awful, immense, it came! so thick, so drear,
Its gloomy grandeur chill’d our hearts with fear,
And the dark billow heaved with distant roar,
Hoarse, as if bursting on some rocky shore.
Thrill’d with amaze, I cried, “Supernal Power!
What mean the omens of this threatening hour!
What the dread mystery of this ocean-clime,
So darkly grand, so fearfully sublime?”
Scarce had I spoke, when lo! a mighty form,
Tower’d through the gathering shadows of the storm;
Of rude proportions and gigantic size,
Dark features, rugged beard, and deep-sunk eyes;
Fierce was his gesture, and his tresses flew,
Sable his lips, and earthly pale his hue.
Well may I tell thee that his limbs and height,
In vast dimensions and stupendous might,
Surpass’d that wonder, once the sculptor’s boast,
The proud Colossus of the Rhodian coast.
Deep was his voice--in hollow tones he spoke,
As if from ocean’s inmost caves they broke;
And but that form to view, that voice to hear,
Spread o’er our flesh and hair cold deadly thrills of fear.
“O daring band!” he cried, “far, far more bold
Than all whose deeds recording fame has told;
Adventurous spirits! whom no bounds of fear
Can teach one pause in rapine’s fierce career;
Since, bursting thus the barriers of the main,
Ye dare to violate my lonely reign,
Where, till this moment, from the birth of time,
No sail e’er broke the solitude sublime:
Since thus ye pierce the veil by Nature thrown
O’er the dark secrets of the Deep Unknown,
Ne’er yet reveal’d to aught of mortal birth,
Howe’er supreme in power, unmatch’d in worth--
Hear from my lips what chastisements of fate,
Rash, bold intruders! on your course await!
What countless perils, woes of darkest hue,
Haunt the vast main and shores your arms must yet subdue!
“Know that o’er every bark, whose fearless helm
Invades, like yours, this wide mysterious realm,
Unmeasured ills my arm in wrath shall pour,
And guard with storms my own terrific shore!
And on the fleet, which first presumes to brave
The dangers throned on this tempestuous wave,
Shall vengeance burst, ere yet a warning fear,
Have time to prophesy destruction near!
“Yes, desperate band! if right my hopes divine,
Revenge, fierce, full, unequall’d, shall be mine!
Urge your bold prow, pursue your venturous way--
Pain, Havoc, Ruin, wait their destined prey!
And your proud vessels, year by year, shall find
(If no false dreams delude my prescient mind)
My wrath so dread in many a fatal storm,
Death shall be deem’d misfortune’s mildest form.
* * * * *
“Lo! where my victim comes!--of noble birth,
Of cultured genius, and exalted worth,
With her,[287] his best beloved, in all her charms,
Pride of his heart, and treasure of his arms!
From foaming waves, from raging winds they fly,
Spared for revenge, reserved for agony!
Oh! dark the fate that calls them from their home,
On this rude shore, my savage reign, to roam,
And sternly saves them from a billowy tomb,
For woes more exquisite, more dreadful doom!
--Yes! he shall see the offspring, loved in vain,
Pierced with keen famine, die in lingering pain;
Shall see fierce Caffres every garment tear,
From her, the soft, the idolised, the fair;
Shall see those limbs, of nature’s finest mould,
Bare to the sultry sun, or midnight cold,
And, in long wanderings o’er a desert land,
Those tender feet imprint the scorching sand.
“Yet more, yet deeper woe, shall those behold
Who live through toils unequall’d and untold!
On the wild shore, beneath the burning sky,
The hapless pair, exhausted, sink to die!
Bedew the rock with tears of pain intense,
Of bitterest anguish, thrilling every sense;
Till in one last embrace, with mortal throes,
Their struggling spirits mount from anguish to repose!”
As the dark phantom sternly thus portray’d
Our future ills, in Horror’s deepest shade,--
“Who then art _thou_?” I cried. “Dread being, tell
Each sense thus bending in amazement’s spell!”
--With fearful shriek, far echoing o’er the tide,
Writhing his lips and eyes, he thus replied:
“Behold the genius of that secret shore
Where the wind rages and the billows roar--
That stormy Cape, for ages mine alone,
To Pompey, Strabo, Pliny, all unknown!
Far to the southern pole my throne extends,
That hidden rock, which Afric’s region ends.
Behold that spirit, whose avenging might,
Whose fiercest wrath your daring deeds excite.”
* * * * *
Thus having said, with strange, terrific cries,
The giant-spectre vanish’d from our eyes;
In sable clouds dissolved--while far around,
Dark ocean’s heaving realms his parting yells resound!
[287] Don Emmanuel de Sonsa, and his wife, Leonora de Sà.
A DIRGE.
Weep for the early lost!--
How many flowers were mingled in the crown
Thus, with the lovely, to the grave gone down,
E’en when life promised most!
How many hopes have wither’d! They that bow
To heaven’s dread will, feel all its mysteries now.
Did the young mother’s eye
Behold her child, and close upon the day,
Ere from its glance th’ awakening spirit’s ray
In sunshine could reply?
--Then look for clouds to dim the fairest morn!
Oh! strong is faith, if woe like this be borne.
For there is hush’d on earth
A voice of gladness--there is veil’d a face,
Whose parting leaves a dark and silent place
By the once-joyous hearth;
A smile hath pass’d, which fill’d its home with light,
A soul, whose beauty made that smile so bright!
But there _is_ power with faith!
Power, e’en though nature o’er the untimely grave
Must weep, when God resumes the gem He gave;
For sorrow comes of Death,
And with a yearning heart we linger on,
When they, whose glance unlock’d its founts, are gone!
But glory from the dust,
And praise to Him, the merciful, for those
On whose bright memory love may still repose
With an immortal trust!
Praise for the dead, who leave us, when they part,
Such hope as she hath left--“the pure in heart!”
1823.
TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE.
TO VENUS.
BOOK I., ODE XXX.
Oh! leave thine own loved isle,
Bright Queen of Cyprus and the Paphian shores!
And here in Glycera’s fair temple smile,
Where vows and incense lavishly she pours.
Waft here thy glowing son;
Bring Hermes; let the Nymphs thy path surround,
And youth, unlovely till thy gifts be won,
And the light Graces with the zone unbound.
TO HIS ATTENDANT.
BOOK I., ODE XXXVIII.
I hate the Persian’s costly pride:
The wreaths with bands of linden tied--
These, boy, delight me not;
Nor where the lingering roses bide
Seek thou for me the spot.
For me be naught but myrtle twined--
The modest myrtle, sweet to bind
Alike thy brows and mine,
While thus I quaff the bowl, reclined
Beneath th’ o’erarching vine.
TO DELIUS.
BOOK II., ODE III.
Firm be thy soul!--serene in power,
When adverse fortune clouds the sky;
Undazzled by the triumph’s hour,
Since, Delius, thou must die--
Alike, if still to grief resign’d,
Or if, through festal days, ’tis thine
To quaff, in grassy haunts reclined,
The old Falernian wine--
Haunts where the silvery poplar-boughs
Love with the pine’s to blend on high,
And some clear fountain brightly flows
In graceful windings by.
There be the rose with beauty fraught,
So soon to fade, so brilliant now;
There be the wine, the odours brought,
While time and fate allow!
For thou, resigning to thine heir
Thy halls, thy bowers, thy treasured store,
Must leave that home, those woodlands fair,
On yellow Tiber’s shore.
What then avails it, if thou trace
From Inachus thy glorious line?
Or, sprung from some ignoble race,
If not a roof be thine?
Since the dread lot for all must leap