385
THE LAST SONG OF CORINNE.
Take ye my solemn farewell! O, my friends,
Already night is darkening on my eyes;—
But is not Heaven most beautiful by night?
Thousands of stars shine in the kindling sky,
Which is an azure desert during day.
Thus do the gathering of eternal shades
Reveal innumerable thoughts, half lost
In the full daylight of prosperity.
But weaken'd is the voice which might instruct;
The soul retires within itself, and seeks
To gather round itself its failing fire.
From my first days of youth, my inward hope
Was to do honour to the Roman name;
That name at which the startled heart yet beats.
Ye have allow'd me fame, O generous land!
Ye banished not a woman from the shrine!
Ye do not sacrifice immortal gifts
To passing jealousies. Ye who still yield
Applause to Genius in its daring flight;
Victor without the vanquished,—Conqueror,
Yet without spoil;—who, from eternity,
Draws riches for all time.
Nature and Life! with what deep confidence
Ye did inspire me. I deem'd all grief arose
For what we did not feel, or think enough:
And that we might, even on this our earth,
Beforehand taste that heavenly happiness,
Which is—but length in our enthusiasm,
But constancy in love.
