Modern Poets and Poetry of Spain/The Parting
THE PARTING.
Sylvia! the cruel moment's near,
When I must say farewell!
For hark! the cannon's sounds we hear
Of my departure tell.
Thy lover comes to give thee now
The last adieu, and part!
With sorrow overcast his brow,
And sorrowful his heart.
Come, object of my love divine!
Reach me those beauteous arms:
Would fate my happy lot assign
My home and rest thy charms,
The blow that threatens its decree
To give, I should not meet;
For sooner then than part, 't would see
Me dying at thy feet.
O! had our passion equal force,
Or been of equal growth,
The grief of absence might its course
Divide between us both!
But thou a face indifferent,
Or pleased, dost give to view,
Whilst I have not ev'n breath content
To say to thee, Adieu.
A gentle river murmuring by,
In calmness bathes the plain,
And of its waters the supply
Sees beauteous flowers attain;
In silence thou, my lonely grief,
Dost bathe my wretched breast,
And Sylvia's pity in relief
For me canst not arrest.
But what, my Sylvia, dost thou say?
What means that tender sigh?
Why do I see, mid tears that stray,
Shine forth thy beaming eye?
As opens to the sun opposed
On some clear day the cloud,
And his rays make the drops disclosed
To sparkle as they flow’d.
On me dost thou those languid eyes
Turn with that tender gaze?
Loses thy cheek its rosy dyes,
Nor beauty less displays?
Thy ruby lips a moment brief
Thou opest, and sorrow seals!
How fair the very show of grief
Itself in thee reveals!
Insensate! how I wildly thought
My bitter griefs would gain
Some ease, if thou wert also taught
A portion of my pain!
Pardon the error that deceived,
O, Sylvia! I implore;
Me more thy sorrow now has grieved,
Than thy disdain before.
My bliss! I pray no more to swerve!
Calm those heart-breaking pains:
Thy grief to have, does not deserve
All that the world contains.
May all life's hours, in calm serene,
Be ever pass'd by thee;
And all that darker intervene
Reserved alone for me!
For me, whose lonely wretched doom
By heaven has been decreed.
To bear fate's cruelty and gloom,
Wherever it may lead.
But not on thee, so lovely born,
Formed of a power divine,
To hold ev'n fate a subject sworn
To every will of thine.
Whilst thou my absence mayst lament,
Thy comfort mayst descry,
By fate a thousand lovers sent
More to thy choice than I.
Some one she pleases me above
To favour chance may show;
But one to love thee as I love,
That none can ever know.
'T was not thy graces won my heart,
Nor yet thy faultless face;
But 't was some sympathy apart
I might from birth retrace.
I long a picture loved to draw
Of charms I fancied true,
And thy perfections when I saw,
The original I knew.
No traveller upon the ground
By sudden lightning thrown,
The blow could more at once confound,
Left helpless and alone,
Than I to see that beauteous brow,
In hapless love was lost;
At thy feet forced at once to bow,
To adore whate'er the cost.
But I depart, alas! the pain
No words can e'er express;
Heaven only knows it that can scan
The inmost heart's recess;
And saw the hours of deep delight,
So full now long pass'd by,
That all my wishes' utmost height
Heap'd up could satisfy.
Now while the breezes fair avail,
The waves are gently stirred,
And of the mariners the hail
Confused afar is heard:
Now from the deep's tenacious hold
The anchor's fangs they heave,
And all conspiring are enroll'd
Me swifter death to give.
Now with a vacillating foot
The slender boat I tread,
Soon destined from the bank to shoot,
As to the great bark sped.
Sylvia, in this sad moment's pause,
O! what a mournful crowd
Of thoughts around thy lover close,
To assault him and overcloud!
The sweet requital in return
Thou givest my love I know;
And kind remembrances discern
All thy affections show;
Whilst here each proof assures me well
That naught thy heart can move;
But in my absence, who can tell
If thou wilt faithful prove?
For those divine attractions whence
Now all my joys arise,
Perhaps may fate the cause dispense
Of all my miseries;
And whilst I absent and forlorn
My pledges lost deplore,
Some rival gains of me in scorn
The enchantments I adore!
But no, my bliss, my glory! ne'er
Were given the winds in vain
Those vows, which envied me to share
The universe my gain.
Let us time's tyranny defy,
And distance, constant thus
Remaining in that changeless tie,
That then united us.
When rises first the beamy sun,
When sets his beauteous ray,
When moon and stars their courses run,
On thee my thoughts will stay.
From that enchanting form my heart
No moment will be free;
And traitress thou, when I depart
Wilt ne'er ev'n think of me!
At lonely hours across my thought
Gulf'd in the ocean vast,
The scenes to memory will be brought
With thee I saw and pass'd.
Then will my sorrows make me feel
My lot more dark to be,
And thou more cruel than the steel
Wilt ne'er ev'n think of me!
"There first her matchless form I saw;
There first my faith I swore;
And from her flattering lips could draw
The happy 'Yes' they, wore!"
As these reflections by me file,
Rise griefs in like degree;
And thou, who knows, if thou the while
Wilt e'er ev'n think of me?
Then as I hours of glory call
Those when I thee beheld;
And of my griefs the sources all
When from thy sight repell'd;
A thousand times the thoughts enhance
The doom 't is mine to see,
Meanwhile who knows, if thou perchance
Wilt e'er ev'n think of me?
When in the heavens I view unfurl'd
The awful signs arise,
With which the Ruler of the world
Poor mortals terrifies;
When sounds are in the deepest caves
Of horrid thunderings nigh,
And of the seas the troubled waves
Rage furiously on high;
When by the south wind is impell'd
The proud Tyrrhenian main,
As if from its deep bosom swell'd
To assault the starry train;
When the despairing steersman turns
To prayer, instead of skill,
Seeing his bark the ocean spurns
The plaything of its will;
Amid the hoarse and troubled cries
The people raise around,
While shines the sword before their eyes
Of death, to strike them bound;
Ev'n then will I my love's farewell
In that dark hour renew,
And to the winds my sighs shall tell—
Sylvia! my life, Adieu!