The Lament of the Emerald Isle

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She was the star that the darkness divided, The harp that gave melody e'en to the blast ; The dove at whose vision the waters sabsided, The violet of hope when the winter was past.
Oh, how lovely arose the young flowret of May !
Oh, how pure on its leaf hung the day's infant gem ! But the sunbeam of heaven kiss'd the dew-drop away, But pale evening wept over the blossomless stem !
Sweet spirit ! the blush to that weeping eve given, Marks the flight of the angels to welcome their own; — Sweet sp
...irit ! that sunbeam illuming all heaven, Reveals the rich glory that shadows thy throne I 14 The cloud of our incense, arising in air, But sullies the crown that encircles thy brow !
The sigh, as it bursts the full soul of despair, Only breaks the blest chorus that hallows thee now.
Yet, still, if the spirit of glory can see, The lone exile it leaves in its pilgrimage here — There is one, in his wretchedness, sacred to thee, Nor unheard, is his sigh, nor unpitied, his tear.
Poor Leopold — the orient day As brightly flames o'er Claremont's height And its last, loveliest, farewell ray, On Esher casts a look of light — But Esher's groves are sad at noon, Sweet Claremont's bow'rs are silent now; And veiled in clouds " the inconstant moon" That smiled upon thy nuptial vow !— 15 Weep on — let not a solace rude Profane thy hallowed solitude : — Weep on — this world's no world to thee, Thou art alone with misery : — Weep on — she cannot hear thee weep — Thy lov'd one sleeps the dreamless sleep : — Her voice is hush'd — her bosom cold — Her eye's blue lustre clouded — And, Oh God !


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