Poems (Campbell)/Stanzas (Sad is thy voice, thou hollow moaning gale!)
For works with similar titles, see Stanzas.
STANZAS. 1812.
Sad is thy voice, thou hollow moaning gale!
Departed Spirits seem to linger near;
E'en now, methinks! some sheeted spectre pale,
Stalks by my side, and whispers in mine ear.
The life-blood freezes in my trembling frame,
As the dim waning moon her pallid glare
Cast on those clayey features!———'tis the same—
And this is all that is, of what was once so fair!
Departed Spirits seem to linger near;
E'en now, methinks! some sheeted spectre pale,
Stalks by my side, and whispers in mine ear.
The life-blood freezes in my trembling frame,
As the dim waning moon her pallid glare
Cast on those clayey features!———'tis the same—
And this is all that is, of what was once so fair!
"Beware," she sighs, "beware of ev'ry art,
That man will use to steal thy peace away;
For his the plotting head, the guileful heart,
And bis the lips that smile but to betray.
When last we met I blush'd in beauty's bloom—
A father's hope, a father's fond delight;—
But view me now—the tenant of the tomb!
My star for ever set, that lately rose so bright.
That man will use to steal thy peace away;
For his the plotting head, the guileful heart,
And bis the lips that smile but to betray.
When last we met I blush'd in beauty's bloom—
A father's hope, a father's fond delight;—
But view me now—the tenant of the tomb!
My star for ever set, that lately rose so bright.
Oh! steel thy bosom 'gainst th' insidious foe,
And dread the poison of a lover's sigh;—
For what can poor deserted woman do—
Conceal her anguish, break her heart, and die!
Hope not their breast with love or truth can glow,
Slaves to the world, the sordid slaves of gold!
Such A * * * * * * was, and I am laid full low!
But see! the morning gleams—my mournful tale is told."
And dread the poison of a lover's sigh;—
For what can poor deserted woman do—
Conceal her anguish, break her heart, and die!
Hope not their breast with love or truth can glow,
Slaves to the world, the sordid slaves of gold!
Such A * * * * * * was, and I am laid full low!
But see! the morning gleams—my mournful tale is told."
And now she glides away, and mingles slow
With the deep shades—my awful fears depart,
And now again I feel the life-blood glow,
That almost stopp'd and curdled at my heart.
Ill-fated, lovely Ann!—yes, I will keep
Thy mournful story treasur'd in my breast;
And oft will muse upon thy fate, and weep
O'er the cold narrow bed where thou dost rest!
With the deep shades—my awful fears depart,
And now again I feel the life-blood glow,
That almost stopp'd and curdled at my heart.
Ill-fated, lovely Ann!—yes, I will keep
Thy mournful story treasur'd in my breast;
And oft will muse upon thy fate, and weep
O'er the cold narrow bed where thou dost rest!