The Poems of Felicia Hemans
No care intruding to disturb my breast,
I dwelt entranced in Love’s Elysian bower:
But Fate, such transports eager to destroy,
Soon rudely woke me from the dream of joy,
And bade the phantoms of delight begone:
Bade hope and happiness at once depart,
And left but memory to distract my heart,
Retracing every hour of bliss for ever flown.
“Mi nueve y dulce querella.”
No searching eye can pierce the veil
That o’er my secret love is thrown;
No outward signs reveal its tale,
But to my bosom known.
Thus, like the spark whose vivid light
In the dark flint is hid from sight,
It dwells within, alone.
METASTASIO.
“Dunque si sfoga in pianto.”
In tears, the heart oppress’d with grief
Gives language to its woes;
In tears, its fulness finds relief,
When rapture’s tide o’erflows!
Who, then, unclouded bliss would seek
On this terrestrial sphere;
When e’en Delight can only speak,
Like Sorrow--in a tear?
“Al furor d’avversa Sorte.”
He shall not dread Misfortune’s angry mien,
Nor feebly sink beneath her tempest rude,
Whose soul hath learn’d, through many a trying scene,
To smile at fate, and suffer unsubdued.
In the rough school of billows, clouds, and storms,
Nursed and matured, the pilot learns his art:
Thus Fate’s dread ire, by many a conflict, forms
The lofty spirit and enduring heart!
“Quella onda che ruina.”
The torrent wave, that breaks with force
Impetuous down the Alpine height,
Complains and struggles in its course,
But sparkles, as the diamond bright.
The stream in shadowy valley deep
May slumber in its narrow bed;
But silent, in unbroken sleep,
Its lustre and its life are fled.
“Leggiadra rosa, le cui pure foglie.”
Sweet rose! whose tender foliage to expand
Her fostering dews the Morning lightly shed,
Whilst gales of balmy breath thy blossoms fann’d,
And o’er thy leaves the soft suffusion spread:
That hand, whose care withdrew thee from the ground,
To brighter worlds thy favour’d charms hath borne;
Thy fairest buds, with grace perennial crown’d,
There breathe and bloom, released from every thorn.
Thus, far removed, and now transplanted flower!
Exposed no more to blast or tempest rude,
Shelter’d with tenderest care from frost or shower,
And each rough season’s chill vicissitude,
Now may thy form in bowers of peace assume
Immortal fragrance, and unwithering bloom.
“Che speri, instabil Dea, di sassi e spine.”
Fortune! why thus, where’er my footsteps tread,
Obstruct each path with rocks and thorns like these?
Think’st thou that _I_ thy threatening mien shall dread,
Or toil and pant thy waving locks to seize?
Reserve the frown severe, the menace rude,
For vassal-spirits that confess thy sway!
_My_ constant soul should triumph unsubdued,
Were the wide universe destruction’s prey.
Am I to conflicts new, in toils untried?
No! I have long thine utmost power defied,
And drawn fresh energies from every fight.
Thus from rude strokes of hammers and the wheel,
With each successive shock the temper’d steel
More keenly piercing proves, more dazzling bright.
“Parlagli d’un periglio.”
Wouldst thou to Love of danger speak?--
Veil’d are his eyes, to perils blind!
Wouldst thou from Love a reason seek?--
He is a child of wayward mind!
But with a doubt, a jealous fear,
Inspire him once--the task is o’er;
His mind is keen, his sight is clear,
No more an infant, blind no more.
“Sprezza il furor del vento.”
Unbending midst the wintry skies,
Rears the firm oak his vigorous form,
And stem in rugged strength, defies
The rushing of the storm.
Then sever’d from his native shore,
O’er ocean-worlds the sail to bear,
Still with those winds he braved before,
He proudly struggles there.
“Sol può dir che sia contento.”
Oh! those alone whose sever’d hearts
Have mourn’d through lingering years in vain,
Can tell what bliss fond Love imparts,
When Fate unites them once again.
Sweet is the sigh, and blest the tear,
Whose language hails that moment bright,
When past afflictions but endear
The presence of delight!
“Ah! frenate le piante imbelle!”
Ah! cease--those fruitless tears restrain!
I go misfortune to defy,
To smile at fate with proud disdain,
To triumph--not to die!
I with fresh laurels go to crown
My closing days at last,
Securing all the bright renown
Acquired in dangers past.
VINCENZO DA FILICAJA.
“Italia! Italia! O tu cui diè la sorte.”
Italia! O Italia! thou, so graced
With ill-starr’d beauty, which to thee hath been
A dower whose fatal splendour may be traced
In the deep-graven sorrows of thy mien;
Oh that more strength, or fewer charms were thine!
That those might fear thee more, or love thee less,
Who seem to worship at thy radiant shrine,
Then pierce thee with the death-pang’s bitterness!
Not _then_ would foreign hosts have drain’d the tide
Of that Eridanus thy blood hath dyed:
Nor from the Alps would legions, still renew’d,
Pour down; nor wouldst thou wield an alien brand,
And fight thy battles with the stranger’s hand,
Still, still a slave, victorious or subdued!
PASTORINI.
“Genova mia! se con asciutto ciglio.”
If thus thy fallen grandeur I behold,
My native Genoa! with a tearless eye,
Think not thy son’s ungrateful heart is cold;
But know--I deem rebellious every sigh!
Thy glorious ruins proudly I survey,
Trophies of firm resolve, of patriot might!
And in each trace of devastation’s way,
Thy worth, thy courage, meet my wandering sight.
Triumphs far less than suffering virtue shine!
And on the spoilers high revenge is thine,
While thy strong spirit unsubdued remains.
And lo! fair Liberty rejoicing flies
To kiss each noble relic, while she cries,
“_Hail! though in ruins, thou wert ne’er in chains!_”
LOPE DE VEGA.
“Estese el cortesano.”
Let the vain courtier waste his days,
Lured by the charms that wealth displays,
The couch of down, the board of costly fare;
Be his to kiss th’ ungrateful hand
That waves the sceptre of command,
And rear full many a palace in the air;
Whilst I enjoy, all unconfined,
The glowing sun, the genial wind,
And tranquil hours, to rustic toil assign’d;
And prize far more, in peace and health,
Contented indigence than joyless wealth.
Not mine in Fortune’s fane to bend,
At Grandeur’s altar to attend,
Reflect his smile, and tremble at his frown;
Nor mine a fond aspiring thought,
A wish, a sigh, a vision, fraught
With Fame’s bright phantom, Glory’s deathless crown!
Nectareous draughts and viands pure
Luxuriant nature will insure;
These the clear fount and fertile field
Still to the wearied shepherd yield;
And when repose and visions reign,
Then we are equals all, the monarch and the swain.
FRANCISCO MANUEL.
ON ASCENDING A HILL LEADING TO A CONVENT.
“No baxes temeroso, o peregrino!”
Pause not with lingering foot, O pilgrim! here,
Pierce the deep shadows of the mountain-side;
Firm be thy step, thy heart unknown to fear--
To brighter worlds this thorny path will guide.
Soon shall thy feet approach the calm abode,
So near the mansions of supreme delight;
Pause not, but tread this consecrated road--
’Tis the dark basis of the heavenly height.
Behold, to cheer thee on the toilsome way,
How many a fountain glitters down the hill!
Pure gales, inviting, softly round thee play,
Bright sunshine guides--and wilt thou linger still?
Oh! enter there, where, freed from human strife,
Hope is reality, and time is life.
DELLA CASA.
VENICE.
“Quest! palazzi, e queste logge or colte.”
These marble domes, by wealth and genius graced,
With sculptured forms, bright hues, and Parian stone,
Were once rude cabins midst a lonely waste,
Wild shores of solitude, and isles unknown.
Pure from each vice, ’twas here a venturous train
Fearless in fragile barks explored the sea;
Not theirs a wish to conquer or to reign,
They sought these island precincts--to be free.
Ne’er in their souls ambition’s flame arose,
No dream of avarice broke their calm repose;
Fraud, more than death, abhorr’d each artless breast:
Oh! now, since fortune gilds their brightening day,
Let not those virtues languish and decay,
O’erwhelm’d by luxury, and by wealth opprest!
IL MARCHESE CORNELIO BENTIVOGLIO.
“L’anima bella, che dal vero Eliso.”
The sainted spirit which, from bliss on high,
Descends like dayspring to my favour’d sight,
Shines in such noontide radiance of the sky,
Scarce do I know that form, intensely bright!
But with the sweetness of her well-known smile,
That smile of peace! she bids my doubts depart,
And takes my hand, and softly speaks the while,
And heaven’s full glory pictures to my heart.
Beams of that heaven in _her_ my eyes behold,
And now, e’en now, in thought my wings unfold,
To soar with her, and mingle with the blest!
But ah! so swift her buoyant pinion flies,
That I, in vain aspiring to the skies,
Fall to my native sphere, by earthly bonds deprest.
QUEVEDO.
ROME BURIED IN HER OWN RUINS.
“Buscas en Roma á Roma, o peregrino!”
Amidst these scenes, O pilgrim! seek’st thou Rome?
Vain is thy search--the pomp of Rome is fled;
Her silent Aventine is glory’s tomb;
Her walls, her shrines, but relics of the dead.
That hill, where Cæsars dwelt in other days,
Forsaken mourns, where once it tower’d sublime;
Each mouldering medal now far less displays
The triumphs won by Latium than by Time.
Tiber alone survives--the passing wave
That bathed her towers now murmurs by her grave,
Wailing with plaintive sound her fallen fanes.
Rome! of thine ancient grandeur all is past,
That seem’d for years eternal framed to last:
Nought but the wave--a fugitive, remains.
EL CONDE JUAN DE TARSIS.
“Tu, que la dulce vida en tiernas anos.”
Thou, who hast fled from life’s enchanted bowers,
In youth’s gay spring, in beauty’s glowing morn,
Leaving thy bright array, thy path of flowers,
For the rude convent-garb and couch of thorn;
Thou that, escaping from a world of cares,
Hast found thy haven in devotion’s fane,
As to the port the fearful bark repairs
To shim the midnight perils of the main--
Now the glad hymn, the strain of rapture pour,
While on thy soul the beams of glory rise!
For if the pilot hail the welcome shore
With shouts of triumph swelling to the skies,
Oh! how shouldst _thou_ the exulting pæan raise,
Now heaven’s bright harbour opens on thy gaze!
TORQUATO TASSO.
“Negli anni acerbi tuoi, purpurea rosa.”
Thou in thy morn wert like a glowing rose
To the mild sunshine only half display’d,
That shunn’d its bashful graces to disclose,
And in its veil of verdure sought a shade:
Or like Aurora did thy charms appear,
(Since mortal form ne’er vied with aught so bright,)
Aurora, smiling from her tranquil sphere,