Remember the Past
I.
" Remember the past! " — Oh! since Fate has bereftme
Of each star that once beamed on my pathway of life, —
Since the storm is abroad, and no beacon is left me
To guide my lone bark through the waters of strife, —
What can still the black billow, or hush the loud blast,
Like the spell that is wreathed with the thoughts of the past?
II.
I have struggled, and hardly, with Hate and with Malice; —
In the dews of affliction my heart hath been steeped; —
I have dregged the last drops of Misfortune's dark chalice,
And from seeds of delight only mournfulness reaped; —
Yet, 'mid all my wild wanderings, a halo was cast
On the gloom of the " present" — by thoughts of the past!
III.
When Detraction's keen arrows were rushing around me,
And, though Truth was my buckler, had branded my name;
When the friends who long years firm and faithful had found me
Were the first to upbraid, and o'erwhelm me with blame;
What said I? — Conviction will strike them at last; —
They once loved me; — I 'll turn to the thoughts of the past!
IV.
I have sought in the wine-cup a Lethe for sorrow,
And quaffed its warm tide till my spirit grew light;
But that mockery of mirth always fled ere the morrow,
Leaving nothing behind it but blackness and blight!
And 'twere well: — who would wish that oblivion to last,
Which with bitter, must banish sweet thoughts of the past?
V.
Like the bubbles of brightness which mantle and sparkle,
When the juice of the grape in the goblet is gushing,
And but shine for a moment, then sullenly darkle, —
So the joy wine creates may as gaily be flushing
O'er the pale cheek of woe, — but it fleeteth as fast: —
Is it so — is it so with sweet thoughts of the past?
VI.
No; — the garland of Memory new beauty discloses,
When chastened by sadness and mellowed by years;
And though thorns but too frequently mix with the roses
Whose stems have been watered and reared by our tears;
Let them circle the brow; — sure the pain is surpassed
By the gladness we gather from thoughts of the past!
VII.
Then believe me, dear Zillah, there needs not a token
To bid my heart dwell on the dream it loves best;
For each pulse must be withered, each chord must be broken,
Ere the stamp of thy loveliness fade from my breast.
Yes! I 'll think of thee, gentle and kind as thou wast,
And the " joy of my grief" shall be thoughts of the past!
VIII.
'Twas thine, when dark Fate, one by one, had been stealing
Each hope I most cherished and clung to on earth,
To unchain with thy glance the chilled fountain of feeling,
And restore its locked tide to light, sunshine, and mirth.
Gloom again is upon me; — my soul is o'ercast; —
But there's balsam and bliss in the thoughts of the past!
IX.
When we met, thy young brow with deep sadness was clouded, —
Yet though pensive thy smiles, they were grateful to me;
And the bud Woe's long winter had icily shrouded,
Burst to bloom in an instant when glanced on by thee:
Though the Simoom hath sped, and hath breathed its hot blast,
There are blooms still unwithered — the thoughts of the past!
X.
Is the friendship sincerer — the love more enduring,
Which years of probation alone can create,
Than that which springs up, with a moment's maturing,
In bosoms with passion and feeling elate?
Surely not! — If it is — what care I, so thou hast
Pleasure, thrilling, as I have, in thoughts of the past!
XI.
But it never may be! In souls ardent as ours,
When the seeds of affection have once been implanted,
A morning's bright sun-shine will call up the flowers,
And prove, plainly, 'twas warmth and not ages they wanted; —
And though clouds burst above them, their blossoms will last,
And gain freshness and strength from the thoughts of the past!
XII.
Fare thee well! — Fare thee well! — If these wild woven numbers
May claim a fond place in a bosom so pure,
Till death from mortality's coil disencumbers
Thy soul, — and earth's dreams may no longer endure,
Let the glass of thy mind give thee back, undefaced
By time, absence, or sorrow, the thoughts of the past!
XIII.
Fare thee well! — Fare thee well! — Whilst a pilgrim I wander,
Unsoothed and unloved on this cold-hearted earth,
On the hour we first met, and last parted, I'll ponder,
Till visions of gladness from grief shall have birth;
Whatsoe'er may betide me, life's sands to their last
Must have sped, ere I cease to REMEMBER THE PAST !
" Remember the past! " — Oh! since Fate has bereftme
Of each star that once beamed on my pathway of life, —
Since the storm is abroad, and no beacon is left me
To guide my lone bark through the waters of strife, —
What can still the black billow, or hush the loud blast,
Like the spell that is wreathed with the thoughts of the past?
II.
I have struggled, and hardly, with Hate and with Malice; —
In the dews of affliction my heart hath been steeped; —
I have dregged the last drops of Misfortune's dark chalice,
And from seeds of delight only mournfulness reaped; —
Yet, 'mid all my wild wanderings, a halo was cast
On the gloom of the " present" — by thoughts of the past!
III.
When Detraction's keen arrows were rushing around me,
And, though Truth was my buckler, had branded my name;
When the friends who long years firm and faithful had found me
Were the first to upbraid, and o'erwhelm me with blame;
What said I? — Conviction will strike them at last; —
They once loved me; — I 'll turn to the thoughts of the past!
IV.
I have sought in the wine-cup a Lethe for sorrow,
And quaffed its warm tide till my spirit grew light;
But that mockery of mirth always fled ere the morrow,
Leaving nothing behind it but blackness and blight!
And 'twere well: — who would wish that oblivion to last,
Which with bitter, must banish sweet thoughts of the past?
V.
Like the bubbles of brightness which mantle and sparkle,
When the juice of the grape in the goblet is gushing,
And but shine for a moment, then sullenly darkle, —
So the joy wine creates may as gaily be flushing
O'er the pale cheek of woe, — but it fleeteth as fast: —
Is it so — is it so with sweet thoughts of the past?
VI.
No; — the garland of Memory new beauty discloses,
When chastened by sadness and mellowed by years;
And though thorns but too frequently mix with the roses
Whose stems have been watered and reared by our tears;
Let them circle the brow; — sure the pain is surpassed
By the gladness we gather from thoughts of the past!
VII.
Then believe me, dear Zillah, there needs not a token
To bid my heart dwell on the dream it loves best;
For each pulse must be withered, each chord must be broken,
Ere the stamp of thy loveliness fade from my breast.
Yes! I 'll think of thee, gentle and kind as thou wast,
And the " joy of my grief" shall be thoughts of the past!
VIII.
'Twas thine, when dark Fate, one by one, had been stealing
Each hope I most cherished and clung to on earth,
To unchain with thy glance the chilled fountain of feeling,
And restore its locked tide to light, sunshine, and mirth.
Gloom again is upon me; — my soul is o'ercast; —
But there's balsam and bliss in the thoughts of the past!
IX.
When we met, thy young brow with deep sadness was clouded, —
Yet though pensive thy smiles, they were grateful to me;
And the bud Woe's long winter had icily shrouded,
Burst to bloom in an instant when glanced on by thee:
Though the Simoom hath sped, and hath breathed its hot blast,
There are blooms still unwithered — the thoughts of the past!
X.
Is the friendship sincerer — the love more enduring,
Which years of probation alone can create,
Than that which springs up, with a moment's maturing,
In bosoms with passion and feeling elate?
Surely not! — If it is — what care I, so thou hast
Pleasure, thrilling, as I have, in thoughts of the past!
XI.
But it never may be! In souls ardent as ours,
When the seeds of affection have once been implanted,
A morning's bright sun-shine will call up the flowers,
And prove, plainly, 'twas warmth and not ages they wanted; —
And though clouds burst above them, their blossoms will last,
And gain freshness and strength from the thoughts of the past!
XII.
Fare thee well! — Fare thee well! — If these wild woven numbers
May claim a fond place in a bosom so pure,
Till death from mortality's coil disencumbers
Thy soul, — and earth's dreams may no longer endure,
Let the glass of thy mind give thee back, undefaced
By time, absence, or sorrow, the thoughts of the past!
XIII.
Fare thee well! — Fare thee well! — Whilst a pilgrim I wander,
Unsoothed and unloved on this cold-hearted earth,
On the hour we first met, and last parted, I'll ponder,
Till visions of gladness from grief shall have birth;
Whatsoe'er may betide me, life's sands to their last
Must have sped, ere I cease to REMEMBER THE PAST !
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