Poems (Nealds)/To ——— (Oh! give me back the peace of mind)
For works with similar titles, see To ———.
TO ———
Oh! give me back the peace of mind Of which thou'st robb'd my breast;And tell me where I now can find The envied balm of rest.
I've sought it in the lonely glade, And in the green-wood bow'r; I've sought it in calm ev'ning's shade, And morning's sunny hour.
But, ah! it is in vain I seek, For far the truant flies;And sad regret bedews my cheek, And fills my breast with sighs.
When first I knew thee, I was blest With happiness and joy;Peace was my bosom's constant guest, No care could then annoy.
Each morn I met thee with a smile, And thou'st that smile repaid;Alas! 'twas only to beguile The heart thou hast betray'd.
Together through the fields we rov'd At break of rosy day;'Twas then my youthful heart first lov'd, And all around look'd gay.
'Twas not thy beauty I ador'd, But, oh! it was thy mind;That mind, with seeming goodness stor'd, By ev'ry grace refin'd.
Thou led'st me to my fav'rite bow'r, And there how oft we've sung;And music gain'd a sweeter pow'r When falling from thy tongue.
Thus hours and days in bliss flew by, I trusting still in thee, And, wrapt in sweet security, Thy falsehood ne'er could see.
But soon those hours of pleasure fled, And we were doom'd to part;Oh! how my faithful bosom bled! How sorrow rack'd my heart!
How often, when bright Phœbus set In the empurpled west;The anguish'd sigh of fond regret Would rend my heaving breast!
For at that soft and quiet hour We've watch'd the day's decline,And seen on ev'ry shrub and flow'r The silver moon-beams shine.
Fond memory then has pictur'd thee Adorn'd with ev'ry grace,Such as thou didst appear to me When first I saw thy face.
But when again on that dear spot, From ev'ry sorrow free,Past hours of absence I forgot, And thought of nought but thee;
Thy smiles possess'd the magic pow'r To soothe my troubled breast,As the bright sun-beams cheer the flow'r The tempest has oppress'd.
Years have pass'd on since first my soul Thy pow'rful influence own'd, And months and years may faster roll, And still no change be found:
For on my breast and on my brain The fatal seal is set;Which tells me love for thee is vain, Yet bids me not forget.
Fen in the awful hour of death My thoughts on thee will dwell,And with my last faint trembling breath I'll sigh belov'd—farewell!