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| DAYS 1 of my youth, ah, whither have ye fled! | |
| Moments of innocence, of health and joy, | |
| Unruffled by the thoughts of worldly care, | |
| With throbs of sad delight, how oft I sigh, | |
| When Recollection paints thy scenes anew, | 5 |
| My steps ye led to halls where minstrels struck | |
| The breathing lyre, to sing of Beauty’s charms, | |
| Or chivalry’s heroic deeds. | |
| Not then, I pour’d | |
| The melancholy song of memory; | 10 |
| No solitary tale my idle hours could tell | |
| Of sorrow; Hope departed; or Despair. | |
| My dulcet harp was strung to Rapture’s notes; | |
| Its jocund strings re-echoed themes of love, | |
| Or careless caroll’d what young joys could teach. | 15 |
| When twilight came, I sought the mountain’s brow, | |
| To mark her solemn grandeur hastening near. | |
| Then, ah! then, I woo’d the charms of silence, | |
| Far from the pageant show of restless man, | |
| The pomp of pride, the sneer of haughtiness: | 20 |
| Malice, with quivering lip, and knawing care: | |
| Envy, that blasts the buds whose perfumed dyes | |
| She fain would equal: green-eyed Jealousy: | |
| And spectres of despair, whom memory brings | |
| To haunt the slumbering dreams of guilty men, | 25 |
| Of these, yet ignorant and their powers unfelt, | |
| I rioted in youth’s gay harvest, | |
| And quaff’d the cup of roseate health and joy. | |
| But I am changed now! | |
| If e’er I smile, ’t is as the flower of spring, | 30 |
| Whose tincture blooms through drops of morning dew! | |
| And when the once loved charms of solitude | |
| I woo, amid the valley’s silence, | |
| Or on the high hill top, where thunders loud | |
| Proclaim to man the majesty of God, | 35 |
| ’T is not to bathe in dreams of shadowy bliss, | |
| Or fondly dwell on scenes of wild romance: | |
| To weave a sonnet for my mistress’ brow, | |
| Or con an artless song to soothe her ear! | |
| No cheerful thoughts like these entice my feet | 40 |
| Through tangled dells or o’er the mountain’s height. | |
| Hopeless and sad in gloomy nooks retired, | |
| I love to watch the slow revolving moon, | |
| And muse on visions fled of treacherous love, | |
| Of joys departed, and deceitful hopes: | 45 |
| Me now, no more the balmy breeze of spring, | |
| Nor summer’s streamlets murm’ring through the grove, | |
| Nor changeful winds that yellow autumn brings, | |
| Can yield delight—stern winter’s joyless gloom | |
| Suits with my bosom’s cold and cheerless state! | 50 |
| Life’s purple tide no more salubrious flows; | |
| The vernal glow of hope is fled: and joy, | |
| Shall glad no more my once contented cot: | |
| False, fickle woman drove her smiles away. | |
| All hail, December’s chilling skies! | 55 |
| Come darken more the anguish of my soul. | |
| Bring with thy gloomy hours despair’s sad shades— | |
| Bring all the load that misery prepares, | |
| To gall us through the miry road of life: | |
| Bring silent sorrow with her bitter brow: | 60 |
| Bring lovely woman, with her syren smile, | |
| Like transient meteor to seduce our steps: | |
| Bring care, with self-consuming wants oppress’d, | |
| And doubt, to lead us from our onward path, | |
| And sharp solicitudes to vex our nights: | 65 |
| Let war, too, throw her lurid glare around, | |
| And turn the savage from his hunter toils, | |
| To raise the tomahawk and bend the bow. | |
| In her funereal train attendant, | |
| Let famine stalk, and, with insatiate hand, | 70 |
| Fell plunder, knowing neither friend nor foe, | |
| And violence, to stain the soldier’s name. | |
| Let bloody slaughter loose, to dye with gore | |
| Our soil, and teach the world what evils wait | |
| On madden’d counsels and ambitious schemes. | 75 |
| Accursed schemes! that saw no wrath denounced | |
| On souls remorseless shedding human blood. | |
| Detested plans! which bade the cymbals strike, | |
| Roused the loud clarion, and made the cannon roar, | |
| To drown the Saviour’s voice proclaiming loud, | 80 |
| To God on high be glory given: on earth, | |
| Let peace among mankind for ever reign. | |
