ELEGIAC STANZAS. TO THE MEMORY OF D. M. M. I. BRIGHTLY the sun illumes the skies, II. Two years agone, and where shone hearth Five fairies knit our thoughts to earth With bands like steel, tho' wreath'd of flowers: How wildly warm, how softly sweet, The spells that bade our hearts rejoice; While echo'd round us pattering feet, And voices-that seem'd Joy's own voice! III. Then light and life illumed each eye, That would not-could not rest; but now- And one small grave-turf covers three! IV. The spell is broken! never more The perish'd and the past away! Yet, O dear lost ones! ye are not, And half the heart is in your tomb! V. Sudden it fell, the fatal shaft, That struck blithe Charlie down in death; And, while Grief's bitterest cup we quaff'd, We turned to watch wee Willie's breath, That faintly ebb'd, and ebb'd away, Till all was still; and, ere the sun VI. And next, dear David, thou art gone! That now to us remains alone Our unavailing grief for thee? Yet, when we trace thine upward track We do not, dare not, wish thee back- VII. Summer was on the hills; the trees And birds whose songs were never mute; But 'twas even then, dear boy, when flowers, O'ermantling earth, made all things gay, That winter of the heart was ours, And thine the hues of pale decay! VIII. Yes! David, but two moons agone, In thy knit frame and fearless brow. To listen to thine alter'd tongue, And see thee moping like a bird, Whose strength was like the lion's young. IX. Yet so it was ;-and, day by day, Unquench'd thy thirst for sun and air, Down the smooth walks, with blossoms gay, We wheel'd thee in thy garden-chair; And as we mark'd thy languid eye, Wistful, the beds of bloom survey, We dared not think thou wert to die, X. Now gleams the west, a silver sea That all thy days and nights are told? Can pierce through Death's Cimmerian gloom, Can bid the dead awake, and say "Arise! 'tis morning in the tomb?” XI. Yes! such there is; and thou that voice That Heaven is now thy dwelling made- XII. Three blessed beings! ye are now And golden harps surround the throne: Oh to have hail'd that blissful sight, Unto the angels only given, When thy two brothers, robed in light, Embraced thee at the gates of Heaven! XIII. David, farewell! our mourning thus 9 But we, dear child, will go to thee: Then let our thoughts ascend on high, To Him whose arm is strong to save; Hope gives to Faith the victory, And glory dawns beyond the grave! September 1839. |