Felicia Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine Volume 23 1828/Nature's Farewell
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 23, Page 874
NATURE'S FAREWELL.
"The beautiful is vanish'd, and returns not."
Coleridge's Wallenstein.
A Youth rode forth from his childhood's home,
Through the crowded paths of the world to roam,
And the green leaves whisper'd, as he pass'd,
"Wherefore, thou dreamer! away so fast?
"Knew'st thou with what thou art parting here,
Long would'st thou linger in doubt and fear;
Thy heart's free laughter, thy sunny hours,
Thou hast left in our shades with the Spring's wild flowers.
"Under the arch by our mingling made,
Thou and thy brother have gaily play'd;
Ye may meet again where ye roved of yore,
But as ye have met there—oh! never more!"
On rode the youth—and the boughs among,
Thus the wild birds o'er his pathway sung:—
"Wherefore so fast unto life away?
Thou art leaving for ever thy joy in our lay!
"Thou may'st come to the Summer woods again,
And thy heart have no echo to greet this strain;
Afar from the foliage its love will dwell,
A change must pass o'er thee—Farewell, farewell!"
On rode the youth; and the founts and streams
Thus mingled a voice with his joyous dreams:—
"We have been thy playmates through many a day,
Wherefore thus leave us?—Oh! yet delay!
"Listen but once to the sound of our mirth;
For thee 'tis a melody passing from earth!
Never again wilt thou find in its flow
The peace it could once on thy heart bestow.
"Thou wilt visit the scenes of thy childhood's glee,
With the breath of the world on thy spirit free;
Passion and sorrow its depths will have stirr'd,
And the singing of waters be vainly heard.
"Thou wilt bear in our gladsome laugh no part;
What should it do for a burning heart?
Thou wilt bring to the banks of our freshest rill,
Thirst which no fountain on earth may still!
"Farewell!—when thou comest again to thine own,
Thou wilt miss from our music its loveliest tone!
Mournfully true is the tale we tell—
Yet on, fiery dreamer!—Farewell, farewell!"
And a something of gloom on his spirit weigh'd,
As he caught the last sounds of his native shade;
But he knew not, till many a bright spell broke,
How deep were the oracles nature spoke!
F. H.