Moral Exile
She does not drive me forth with iron hand,
Bared steel, or cruelty yet more acute,
In the stern doom of exile. On her brow
Sits no imperial malice. From her lips
Falls no malignant accent; — but, instead,
Her voice is all melodious, and her smile —
Ah! most deceptive smile that ever mocks
The suffering which it soothes not — shining still,
Would seem to favor the neglected child
She makes her step-son! —
Ah! love not seeks
Smooth smile, soft accent! — love seeks only love; —
Naught less will satisfy its laboring hope,
Appease its hungering longing, or suffice
Its ocean-deep affections! If I sing,
Let the sweet deity that hears my song,
Esteem it sweet; and not, in the dull ear,
Give it cold entrance. If upon her shrine,
I heap my votive offerings, with a heart
That joins in the hand-service, — let me know
The goddess feels their incense, that my love
Shall relish of her gracious, dear delight. —
But she, — my mother! What seems it to her
That I have sung her beauties? Far aloof
She sits and hears my praises, as some dame,
Proud of position in a royal court,
Sitting as Queen at some high tournament,
That gives indifferent heed to the brave knight
Who battles for her smile. High-prized dame,
That makes no count of him whose duteous heart
Behold no dearer prize; — and coldly takes
His gallant homage as some natural right,
Which is no other than the gift of love —
Love's generous gift, demanding like for like,
Or nothing! 'Tis the bitterest fate of all,
More bitter than the sudden sting of death,
And colder than the black jaws of the grave,
Thus profitless to sue; — thus, hopelessly,
To bend in fruitless labor, still unmark'd
Without reward, — sweet smile of recompense —
Word of encouragement from gracious lips,
Which promise fond remembrance when the toil
Shall be all ended. Let them speak of it,
Whose lot hath thus been cast, and they shall tell
How easier of endurance were the toils
Of poverty in exile; — sweeter far
Its bitter crust and salt draught, — salter yet
By tears that hallow it to hopelessness,
Quenching no mortal thirst!
Bared steel, or cruelty yet more acute,
In the stern doom of exile. On her brow
Sits no imperial malice. From her lips
Falls no malignant accent; — but, instead,
Her voice is all melodious, and her smile —
Ah! most deceptive smile that ever mocks
The suffering which it soothes not — shining still,
Would seem to favor the neglected child
She makes her step-son! —
Ah! love not seeks
Smooth smile, soft accent! — love seeks only love; —
Naught less will satisfy its laboring hope,
Appease its hungering longing, or suffice
Its ocean-deep affections! If I sing,
Let the sweet deity that hears my song,
Esteem it sweet; and not, in the dull ear,
Give it cold entrance. If upon her shrine,
I heap my votive offerings, with a heart
That joins in the hand-service, — let me know
The goddess feels their incense, that my love
Shall relish of her gracious, dear delight. —
But she, — my mother! What seems it to her
That I have sung her beauties? Far aloof
She sits and hears my praises, as some dame,
Proud of position in a royal court,
Sitting as Queen at some high tournament,
That gives indifferent heed to the brave knight
Who battles for her smile. High-prized dame,
That makes no count of him whose duteous heart
Behold no dearer prize; — and coldly takes
His gallant homage as some natural right,
Which is no other than the gift of love —
Love's generous gift, demanding like for like,
Or nothing! 'Tis the bitterest fate of all,
More bitter than the sudden sting of death,
And colder than the black jaws of the grave,
Thus profitless to sue; — thus, hopelessly,
To bend in fruitless labor, still unmark'd
Without reward, — sweet smile of recompense —
Word of encouragement from gracious lips,
Which promise fond remembrance when the toil
Shall be all ended. Let them speak of it,
Whose lot hath thus been cast, and they shall tell
How easier of endurance were the toils
Of poverty in exile; — sweeter far
Its bitter crust and salt draught, — salter yet
By tears that hallow it to hopelessness,
Quenching no mortal thirst!
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