Original Poetry.
For the Table Book.
The accompanying lines were written in allusion to that beautiful Gem of Dagley’s which Mr. Croly (page 21 of the vol.) supposes a Diana, and which Tassie’s Catalogue describes as such. I have, however, made bold to address her in her no less popular character of
EURYDICE.
“Ilia quidem dam te fugeret per flumina præceps
Immanem ante pedes hydrum moritura puella
Servantem ripas altâ non vidit in herbâ.”
Virg. Georg. IV.
Art can ne’er thine anguish lull,
Maiden passing beautiful!
Strive thou may’st,—’tis all in vain;
Art shall never heal thy pain:
Never may that serpent-sting
Cease thy snow-white foot to wring.
Mourner thou art doom’d to be
Unto all eternity.
Joy shall never soothe thy grief;
Thou must fall as doth the leaf
In thine own deep forest-bower,
Where thy lover, hour by hour,
Hath, with songs of woodland glee.
Like the never-wearied bee.
Fed him on the fond caress
Of thy youth’s fresh loveliness.
Youth!—’tis but a shadow now;—
Never more, lost maid, must thou
Trip it with coy foot across
Leafy brooks and beds of moss;
Never more, with stealthy tread,
Track the wild deer to his bed,
Stealing soft and silently,
Like the lone moon o’er the sea.
Vain thy lover’s whisper’d charm;
Love can never death disarm;
Hush’d the song he oft hath sung,—
Weak his voice, his lyre unstrung.
Think, then, if so hard to heal
Is the anguish thou dost feel.
Think—how bitter is the smart
When that wound is in the heart!
‘ϵ . . .
Hampstead.