THE LAST FAREWELL.
The sun's last rays yet linger'd in the sky,
And shed around a faint and mellow light;
And in the wood the fragrant zephyr's sigh
Alone was heard; and beautifully bright
The gentle moon and stars arose above.
'Twas on this fair and tranquil summer night
Two met to part who long had vow'd to love.
And shed around a faint and mellow light;
And in the wood the fragrant zephyr's sigh
Alone was heard; and beautifully bright
The gentle moon and stars arose above.
'Twas on this fair and tranquil summer night
Two met to part who long had vow'd to love.
Oh, muse! inspire my lay;—I ask no more
Than simple strains to deck this tale of love;
To paint the scene on my own native shore;
The views around; the tranquil heavens above.
Oh, all was lovely! as the moon arose
Above the trees that cast a shade before,
It threw soft radiance where the Richelieu flows;
Whose waves now broke so lightly on the shore,—
The winds blew softly; all was sweet repose.
Than simple strains to deck this tale of love;
To paint the scene on my own native shore;
The views around; the tranquil heavens above.
Oh, all was lovely! as the moon arose
Above the trees that cast a shade before,
It threw soft radiance where the Richelieu flows;
Whose waves now broke so lightly on the shore,—
The winds blew softly; all was sweet repose.
These silver sounds, they seem'd to whisper rest,
As though some spirit breathing peace was near,
To calm the sorrow of some troubled breast,
So soothingly they fell upon the ear.
The lovers now were seated on the ground;
Fresh-gather'd branches formed a rustic seat;
A grove of cedars grew so thickly round
That it was named The Beautiful Retreat.
The moon shone brightly through the boughs above,
Fair witness of so many vows of love!
As though some spirit breathing peace was near,
To calm the sorrow of some troubled breast,
So soothingly they fell upon the ear.
The lovers now were seated on the ground;
Fresh-gather'd branches formed a rustic seat;
A grove of cedars grew so thickly round
That it was named The Beautiful Retreat.
The moon shone brightly through the boughs above,
Fair witness of so many vows of love!
Thus said the youthful Henri: 'Let me here,
Where first I learn'd I to thy heart was dear,
Here let me breath my first, not last, farewell,
That no mistrust may cast its darkling spell;
For here, Theresa, mem'ry pours a light,
The past, the present, and the future, blessing,
That brightens, e'en to me, this last sweet night,
When I may hear thy gentle lips confessing
Thy heart's first love. Oh! peaceful, happy past!
Sweet days of tender union! how they cast
Their deep, full power to bless! I bear away
A joy to light, to consecrate, my stay;
To nerve my arm to gain my heart's sole prize,
A home for thee,—or else thy Henri dies!
Oh! love me still, Theresa; when we part
Let no vain rival steal thy gentle heart.
Remember me, beloved, though I be
Less fair in stature, and less learn'd, than he.
In love alone Du Montville I outshine;
Ah, when we meet shall this fair hand be mine?'
Where first I learn'd I to thy heart was dear,
Here let me breath my first, not last, farewell,
That no mistrust may cast its darkling spell;
For here, Theresa, mem'ry pours a light,
The past, the present, and the future, blessing,
That brightens, e'en to me, this last sweet night,
When I may hear thy gentle lips confessing
Thy heart's first love. Oh! peaceful, happy past!
Sweet days of tender union! how they cast
Their deep, full power to bless! I bear away
A joy to light, to consecrate, my stay;
To nerve my arm to gain my heart's sole prize,
A home for thee,—or else thy Henri dies!
Oh! love me still, Theresa; when we part
Let no vain rival steal thy gentle heart.
Remember me, beloved, though I be
Less fair in stature, and less learn'd, than he.
In love alone Du Montville I outshine;
Ah, when we meet shall this fair hand be mine?'
A trustful look beams from her gentle eyes;
And in low tones the faithful maid replies:
'The stream from marble founts may sound as sweet;
Give me the free bright stream beneath our feet.
I do not want the love, the song, of art;
But thine,—the music of a guileless heart.
Oh, Henri, trust me still, and deem me true;
True to mine early vow, still true to you;
And when the summer sun renews the flowers,
They shall adorn a cottage which is ours.
And in low tones the faithful maid replies:
'The stream from marble founts may sound as sweet;
Give me the free bright stream beneath our feet.
I do not want the love, the song, of art;
But thine,—the music of a guileless heart.
Oh, Henri, trust me still, and deem me true;
True to mine early vow, still true to you;
And when the summer sun renews the flowers,
They shall adorn a cottage which is ours.
Oh, hour of bliss when love and hope's soft light
Makes the sweet present and the future bright!
Blest are those happy hours of love and trust;
But storms may bear the fairest flow'rs to dust.
O'er purest joy may sin's dark power be driv'n,
Yet, broken here, it lives again in heaven.
But dark, and wild, and fearful is the stroke
When trusting hearts are in a moment broke.
Then e'en the hope that sheds its light afar
Is but, alas, a cold and distant star!
As spreads the sudden night o'er tropic isles,
Brilliant in all their verdure, so descend
The storms of sorrow where bliss softly smiles,
And naught is seen the light of hope to lend!
Makes the sweet present and the future bright!
Blest are those happy hours of love and trust;
But storms may bear the fairest flow'rs to dust.
O'er purest joy may sin's dark power be driv'n,
Yet, broken here, it lives again in heaven.
But dark, and wild, and fearful is the stroke
When trusting hearts are in a moment broke.
Then e'en the hope that sheds its light afar
Is but, alas, a cold and distant star!
As spreads the sudden night o'er tropic isles,
Brilliant in all their verdure, so descend
The storms of sorrow where bliss softly smiles,
And naught is seen the light of hope to lend!
'Twas thus with them! that young and happy pair,
So lov'd, so innocent, so blest, and good.
Their sky was bright;—but oh! their doom despair.
See yon dark figure steal along the wood!
He heard their vows! what rage is in his breast!
He stands behind a cedar on the shore;
And as he hears his hated rival blest,
He vows that voice shall never bless him more!
He shouted wildly, and his dagger gleam'd
A moment in the moon's pure silver ray;—
Then on the turf the crimson current stream'd.
Where is the murderer? He is far away!
When morning came they found young Henri dead,
And his Theresa senseless at his side.
They sought Du Montville, but he far had fled;
And 'tis suppos'd Theresa droop'd and died.
But where? oh, where? not in her father's cot!
She stray'd afar along that fatal shore;
Her mother's love, her father's house, forgot,
The maniac left, and she return'd no more!
So lov'd, so innocent, so blest, and good.
Their sky was bright;—but oh! their doom despair.
See yon dark figure steal along the wood!
He heard their vows! what rage is in his breast!
He stands behind a cedar on the shore;
And as he hears his hated rival blest,
He vows that voice shall never bless him more!
He shouted wildly, and his dagger gleam'd
A moment in the moon's pure silver ray;—
Then on the turf the crimson current stream'd.
Where is the murderer? He is far away!
When morning came they found young Henri dead,
And his Theresa senseless at his side.
They sought Du Montville, but he far had fled;
And 'tis suppos'd Theresa droop'd and died.
But where? oh, where? not in her father's cot!
She stray'd afar along that fatal shore;
Her mother's love, her father's house, forgot,
The maniac left, and she return'd no more!
1841.