Poems (Griffith)/The Lovers' Last Meeting
The Lovers' Last Meeting.
IT was a calm, still, Sabbath eve—no breezeWent o'er the sleeping flowers, no murmured sound, From Nature's harp of many voices, rose Upon the deep and strange serenity Of the lone death of day. The Lovers met In the sweet silence of that holy eve, Once more upon the old, familiar spot Of love's dear tryst. Dark months had passed away Since they had gazed together on that scene Of deepest, keenest raptures. That young girl, Even in her girlhood's rip cuing flush, seethed old, And worn in soul. Her pale and withering cheek Told to the heart the tale of many a wild, Fierce struggle of a spirit unsubdued. Her dark eyes gleamed with the intensity Of strange, unspoken griefs, and in their calm, Mysterious fixedness there seemed a high, And deep, and stern resolve, as though her heart Of iron pride might never quail beneath Life's fiercest storms. Yet when she turned those orbs To his, a gentle, melancholy smile Played round their lids, and quivering tear-drops hung, Like the bright gems of dewy morning, o'er Their dark and stormy depths.
And he on whom Her glance of love fell, piercing his deep soul, His soul of strong and manly daring, stood All tearfully beside her, and his arm Around her slender form was wildly flung, Love's living, burning cestus; and her head, With all its clustering wealth of raven curls, Drooped to his heaving bosom, as a dove, Weary and broken wing'd, sinks to its own Dear parent nest. Her little trembling hand Was clasped within his own, her upturned eye Met his, and drank again the heavenly bliss Of dear and sweet reunion. On each pale And stricken brow the darkness of deep And solemn shadow rested, and each cheek And lip seemed chilled with sorrow's withering frost. Though summer, autumn, winter, spring had passed Again and yet again since they had met, They gazed into each other's hearts and read No change in those deep founts of burning love. There no dark raven-wing had brooded—each Had e'er embalmed with love's pure incense-breath The image of the other. They had vowed And kept their holy truth, end now their love Was all undimed, though grief had almost crushed The life from out their souls.
The sweet rich glow Of the soft twilight lent its passion-hue Of crimson to her temples, or perchance It may have been the deep reflection caught From the wild burning thoughts that raged within Her shut and silent heart. She did not look Upon the many flowers, she did not hear The music of the stream—the fairy tints Of sunset, the green surging of the woods, The mildly-wooing zephyrs, and the tones, The thousand deep tones of the holy hour, All were unheeded then. Her eyes, her ears, Her thoughts, her soul, her life, were but for him. She leaned upon him with that touching trust And holy confidence a saint would feel In leaning upon heaven. And she to him Was all that mortal creature e'er could be To a proud child of earth. With lip to lip, And heart quick-throbbing to its throbbing mate, They stood in love's bewildering embrace, Silently clasping in their straining arms All that they knew of heaven on earth. And then They heeded not the passing of the hours, They saw not sunset's glorious roses fade Within the west's sky-garden, they but felt They loved and were supremely blest.
At length The thought that they must part stole on their souls Like the deep shadow of a thunder-cloud. She strove to drive that fearful thought away,But there it stood, a fiend between her soulAnd her bright heaven of joy. Beneath the weight Of her great grief, her head sank down, as bends The lily's pale and broken cup beneath The torrents of the cloud. And then with low, Sweet tones of tenderness, though his own heart Was bursting with its stifled rush of tears,He soothed her fearful agony. He spoke Of joys and raptures past but treasured still In memory's sacred chambers, of the hope That even then seemed shining with a dim And pale but beauteous gleam upon the waves Of the far distant future. Thus he won Her spirit from its dark and crushing grief, And bade her turn her thoughts from earth, and look Above life's clouds for perfect happiness Within the skies. He told her how they two Would wander there, twin-spirits, hand in hand, Beside the lovely Eden streams that glass The blessed rainbow skies, how they would cull The sweetest blossoms glowing with the dews Of heaven, and twine them into beauteous wreaths, Dear love-wreaths, for each other's foreheads; how They oft would fly upon their spirit-wings From star to star, to read the beautiful And blazing mysteries of the sky, and how They would at times come down from heaven to earth To sit beside each other on the dear And blessed spot where then they sat, and muse On all the raptures shared together there, And breathe again the vows so often breathed In life from their deep hearts of love, and make That scene the tryst of their pure souls in heaven As 'twas their tryst upon the earth.
But though By soft and low and gentle words like these, Breathed in the rich tones that first won her love, He calmed the fiery lava-flood that raged Within her tortured heart, he could not soothe The agony that burned within his own. His soul was strong and haughty. He could bear The cold world's bitter hate, he faltered not At "foaming calumny," he did not heed The piercing blasts of poverty, but when, At that sad hour, he fixed his eyes on her, His bright though fading flower, and thought how she Would pine in his drear absence from her side, And saw that her young morning-tide of life Was ebbing fast away, Oh then his heart, His high, proud heart, sank in his manly breast, His naughty spirit trembled, and a strong Convulsion shook his features, and the drops Of agony welled upward from a fount Long sealed within his bosom, and he wept As if his heart were broken. And her tears Gushed forth to blend with his, and thus they wept Together long and wildly.
On their ears Now stole the deep tones of the vesper bell, As mournfully as if it had been tolled For some dear friend. It woke them from their trance Of paralyzing grief, it pealed and rang Far through the echoing chambers of their souls, And told them with its mocking cadences That 'twas the hour, the moment, they must part. All silently, but for one death-like groan, He strained her to his bosom, on her brow He breathed his passion-kisses till it seemed As if each trembling blood-drop in her frame Rushed up to share the maddening embrace—Then with one low, deep, passionate farewell, That sounded as if uttered by his soul Through still, unbreathing lips, they parted.
She, Pale, faint, and weak, with faltering footsteps sought Her chamber's silent solitude, to pourHer sad soul forth in earnest prayer to God For strength to quell the fierce, rebellious thoughts That seemed for ever sweeping like a tide Of burning waters o'er her heart. He sought The forest's deeper silence, there to hold Through the still night communion with his soul, And her, and heaven; and, when the morning came, He went with sickening heart and aching brow Once more into the toiling world of men, To struggle with his bitter destiny.
'Twas their last parting—a brief year passed by, And lo! a pitying angel came from Heaven And joined their fates forever. 'Twas the kind Death-angel—they are all each other's now.