Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 25 1829/Sadness and Mirth
The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 25, Pages 174-175
SADNESS AND MIRTH.
"Nay, these wild fits of uncurb'd laughter
Athwart the gloomy tenor of your mind
As it has lower'd of late, so keenly cast,
Unsuited seem and strange."
"O nothing strange!
Didst thou ne'er see the swallow's veering breast
Winging the air beneath some murky cloud
In the sunn'd glimpses of a troubled day,
Shiver in silvery brightness?
Or boatman's oar, as vivid lightning flash
In the faint gleam, that like a spirit's path
Tracks the still waters of some sullen lake?
O gentle friend!
Chide not her mirth, who was sad yesterday,
And may be so to-morrow!"Joanna Baillie.
Ye met at the stately feasts of old,
When the bright wine foam'd in sculptured gold,
Sadness and Mirth! ye were mingled there
With the sound of the lyre in the scented air;
As the cloud and the lightning are blent on high,
Ye mix'd in the gorgeous revelry.
For there hung o'er those banquets of yore a gloom,
A thought and a shadow of the tomb;
It gave to the flute-notes an under-tone,
To the rose a colouring not its own,
To the breath of the myrtle a mournful power—
Sadness and Mirth! ye had each your dower!
Ye met when the triumph swept proudly by,
With the Roman eagles through the sky!
I know that e'en then, in his hour of pride,
The soul of the mighty within him died,
That the void in his bosom lay darkly still,
Which the music of victory might never fill!
Thou wert there, O Mirth! swelling on the shout,
Till the temples like echo-caves rang out;
Thine were the garlands, the songs, the wine,
All the rich voices in air were thine,
The incense, the sunshine—but, Sadness! thy part,
Deepest of all, was the victor's heart!
Ye meet at the bridal with flower and tear;
Strangely and wildly ye meet by the bier!
As the gleam from a sea-bird's white wing shed,
Crosses the storm in its path of dread,
As a dirge meets the breeze of a summer-sky—
Sadness and Mirth! so ye come and fly!
Ye meet in the Poet's haunted breast—
Darkness and rainbow alike its guest!
When the breath of the violet is out in Spring,
When the woods with the wakening of music ring,
O'er his dreamy spirit your currents pass,
Like shadow and sunlight o'er mountain-grass.
When will your parting be, Sadness and Mirth?
Bright stream and dark one! Oh! never on earth!
Never while triumphs and tombs are so near,
While Death and Love walk the same dim sphere;
While flowers unfold where the storm may sweep,
While the heart of man is a soundless deep!
But there smiles a land, O ye troubled pair!
Where ye have no part in the summer-air.
Far from the breathings of changeful skies,
Over the seas and the graves it lies,
Where the day of the lightning and cloud is done,
And Joy reigns alone, as the lonely sun!F. H.