Poems (Acton)/The Ancient Mirror
THE ANCIENT MIRROR.
There hung an ancient mirror Within a stately hall,And many a year had pass'd since first It graced the pictured wall;And eyes that once with glances bright, Had gazed its face upon,Shone forth no more like stars of night, Their light was quenched and gone.
Oh! sadly yearned the mirror For the graceful forms of yore,That came with hooded hawk on wrist, To gladden it no more.Its princely home was desolate, And passing to decay;While echoless beside the gate, The Warder's bugle lay.
Yet once a lovely child there came, Who laughed with joyous glee,Within its wrought and gorgeous frame, Her sunny face to see; And ever when the summer days Called forth each hue of light,That fairy child stole in to gaze Upon the mirror bright.
And then she came no more! and lone The mirror seemed again;No bounding feet, no laughing tone, Disturbed its still domain:And year by year each lofty room Was wrapped in shadows tall,And silence reigned with mournful gloom Within that stately hall.
Yet cheer thee, ancient mirror, Thy absent lord has come,Now years have pass'd, from distant lands To a long forsaken home;And yearnings for thy glories gone, Shall sadden thee no more;For his lovely child must wed with one Whose wealth will all restore.
And soon the mirror from the wall Looked down on beauty bright;And beaming eyes lit up the hall, To grace the bridal night: And fairest in the dance's maze, 'Mid lord and queenly dame,Shone forth the child of other days, The same, yet not the same.
A shade was on her brow of snow, A tear within her eye;Her cheek had lost its sunny glow, Her lip had learned to sigh:And sadly in the mirror old, She gazed with mournful air;Alas! her tearful glances told A breaking heart was there.
And music soft, with dulcet strain, Woke up each echo glad;And as it filled the hall again, No heart save one was sad.And dance and festal, far and wide, Were kept the coming day;They recked not that the pallid bride Was passing fast away.
Ay! soon a change came o'er the scene, Glad tones were heard no more;The rooms that filled with light had been, Were cheerless as before: No flowers bright the mirror graced, And beauty o'er it flung;But cypress dark each bud replaced, And sadly round it hung.
And she was laid on dying bed, The ancient glass beneath,Who late upon her graceful head Had worn the bridal wreath;And on its face with failing look, The mirror saw her gaze;As if a sad farewell she took Of lov'd and bygone days.
And sunset filled that stately hall, With all its glories bright,And bathed the mirror on the wall In gushing floods of light,And lingered o'er the snowy brow It softly fell upon;But the throbbing heart was silent now, The pure bright spirit gone!H. A.