Thy name-thy human name-to every eye STANZAS TO AUGUSTA. I. WHEN all around grew drear and dark, II. In that deep midnight of the mind, III. When fortune changed-and love fled far, Thou wert the solitary star Which rose and set not to the last. IV. Oh! blest be thine unbroken light! V. And when the cloud upon us came, VI. Still may thy spirit dwell on mine, And teach it what to brave or brookThere's more in one soft word of thine Than in the world's defied rebuke. VII. Thou stood'st, as stands a lovely tree, Its boughs above a monument. VIII. The winds might rend-the skies might pour, But there thou wert-and still would'st be Devoted in the stormiest hour To shed thy weeping leaves o'er me. IX. But thou and thine shall know no blight, For heaven in sunshine will requite X. Then let the ties of baffled love Be broken-thine will never break ; Thy heart can feel-but will not move : Thy soul, though soft, will never shake. XI. And these, when all was lost beside, Were found and still are fix'd in thee ;-- STANZAS TO AUGUSTA.2 I. THOUGH the day of my destiny's over, The faults which so many could find; II. Then when nature around me is smiling, Because it reminds me of thine; And when winds are at war with the ocean, If their billows excite an emotion, III. Though the rock of my last hope is shiver'd, There is many a pang to pursue me : They may crush, but they shall not contemn; They may torture but shall not subdue me; 'Tis of thee that I think—not of them. IV. Though human, thou didst not deceive me, Though watchful, 'twas not to defame me, V. Yet I blame not the world, nor despise it, VI. From the wreck of the past, which hath perish'd, Thus much I at least may recall, It hath taught me that what I most cherish'd In the desert a fountain is springing, July 24, 1816. EPISTLE TO AUGUSTA.3 I. My sister! my sweet sister! if a name Dearer and purer were, it should be thine. Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim No tears, but tenderness to answer mine: Go where I will, to me thou art the sameA loved regret which I would not resign. There are yet two things in my destiny,A world to roam through, and a home with thee. II. The first were nothing-had I still the last, It were the haven of my happiness; But other claims and other ties thou hast, And mine is not the wish to make them less. A strange doom is thy father's son's, and past Recalling, as it lies beyond redress; Reversed for him our grandsire's fate of yore, He had no rest at sea, nor I on shore. III. If my inheritance of storms hath been I have sustain'd my share of worldly shocks, I have been cunning in mine overthrow, The careful pilot of my proper woe. |