Читать книгу Béarn and the Pyrenees - Louisa Stuart Costello - Страница 44

I know to tell the fatal word

Is sorrow evermore—

I know that I that boon accord

Whole ages will deplore.

Though I be more than mortal wise,

And all is clear to gifted eyes;

And endless pain and worlds of woe

May from my heedless passion flow,

Yet thou hast power all else above—

Sense, reason, wisdom, yield to love.

I look upon thine eyes of light,

And feel that all besides is night;

I press that snowy hand in mine,

And but contemn my art divine.

Oh Viviana! I am lost;

A life's renown thy smile hath cost.

A stone no ages can remove

Will be my monument of love;

A nation's wail shall mourn my fate,

My country will be desolate:

Heav'n has no pardon left for me,

Condemn'd—undone—destroy'd—by thee!

Thy tears subdue my soul, thy sighs

Efface all other memories.

I have no being but in thee;

My thirst for knowledge is forgot,

And life immortal would but be

A load of care, where thou wert not.

Wouldst thou but turn away those eyes

I might be saved—I might be wise.

I might recal my reason still

But for that tongue's melodious thrill!

Oh! wherefore was my soul replete

With wisdom, knowledge, sense, and power,

Thus to lie prostrate at thy feet,

And lose them all in one weak hour!

But no—I argue not—'tis past—

Thus to be thine, belov'd by thee,

I seek but this, even to the last,

For all besides is vain to me.

I gaze upon thy radiant brow,

And do not ask a future now.

Thou hast the secret! speak not yet!

Soon shall I gaze myself to stone,

Soon shall I all but thee forget,

And perish to be thine alone.

Ages on ages shall decline,

But Myrdhyn shall be ever thine!