In 1844, Emily Brontë began two new notebooks. In this one she copied out 45 poems relating to the imaginary world of Gondal; the other was reserved for non-Gondal poems. The poems in this notebook were composed between 1844 and 1848. In 1847 her more famous and only novel, Wuthering Heights, was published.
Gondal is the fictional North Pacific island invented by 12-year old Emily and her younger sister Anne in 1831. Gondal’s landscape is similar to Emily’s native Yorkshire moors, but also reminiscent of the Scottish highland setting of the works of her favourite author Sir Walter Scott. Emily and Anne wrote stories and poems about Gondal well into adulthood, with Emily continuing the saga until her death in 1848, at the age of thirty. None of the Gondal stories have survived, so the poems are the only available source for reconstructing the saga.
This manuscript is written in the almost illegible script which all the Brontë siblings used — initially because the tiny writing mimicked print, but also because it saved on expensive paper and discouraged adults from reading their work. The earliest poem in this collection dates from 6 March 1837, when Emily Brontë was 18 years old.
Who is A.G.A.?
The poem on the first page is headed ‘A.G.A.’ These are the initials of Augusta Geraldine Almeda, the protagonist of the Gondal saga. Augusta is a ruthless heroine who becomes Queen of Gondal and has many love affairs. She was inspired by Princess Victoria (later Queen Victoria), who was only ten months younger than Emily Brontë. In this poem Augusta recalls the death of her lover, the Lord of Elbë, who died by the banks of Lake Elnor.
Were the poems published?
In 1845 Charlotte Brontë came across one of Emily’s notebooks and was so struck by the originality of her sister’s poems that she set about trying to convince her that they should be published. Emily was fiercely resistant but eventually agreed to publication of a volume containing poems by all three Brontë sisters. Published pseudonymously, Poems by Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell (1846) contained five poems from this notebook. Charlotte published a further nine of the poems from this notebook in the edition of Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey (1850) which appeared after Emily’s death.
The Gondal poems were not printed in the same form as they appear here. Charlotte and Emily carefully edited them to remove any reference to fictional people or places. Pencil notes and headings written by Charlotte are present throughout the notebook.
The sweet, sweet world and him forever
To think that twilight gathering dim
Would never pass away to him -
No - never more! That aweful thought
A thousand dreary feelings brought
And memory all her powers combined
And rushed upon his fainting mind.
Wide, swelling woodlands seemed to rise
Beneath soft, sunny, southern skies -
Old Elbë Hall his noble[?] home
Towered mid its trees, whose foliage green
Rustled with the kind airs that come
From summer Heavens when most serene -
And bursting through the leafy shade
A gush of golden sunshine played;
Bathing the walls in amber light
And sparkling in the water clear
That stretched below - reflected bright
The whole, wide world of cloudless air -
And still before his spirit's eye
Such wellknown scenes would rise and fly
Till, maddening with dispair and pain
He turned his dying face to me
And wildly cried, “Oh once again
“Might I my native country see!
“But once again - one single day!
“And must it - canit never be?
“To die - and die so far away
“When life has hardly [illegible] smiled for me -
“Augusta - you will soon return
“Back to that land in health and joy bloom
“And then the heath alone will mourn
“Above [illegible on] my [remembered?] unremembered tomb
And you will [illegible]
“For you'll forget the lonely grave
“And mouldering corpse by Elnor's wave” -
X X X X X X X X X X X
I know our souls are all devine
I know that when we die
What seems the vilest, even like thine
A part of God himself shall shine
In perfect purity -
But dreary coldly breaks November's day;
Its changes charmless all
Unmarked, unloved, they pass away
We do not wish one hour to stay
Nor sigh at evening's fall
And glorious is the gladsome rise
Of June's rejoicing morn
And who, with in unregretful eyes
Would Can whach the lustre leave its skies
To twilights shade forelorn?
Then art thou not my golden June,
All mist and tempest-free?
As shines earths sun in summer noon
So heaven's sun shines in thee -
Let others seek its beams devine
In cell and cloister drear
But I have found a fairer shrine
And happier worship here -
By dismal rites they win their bliss
By penance, fasts, and fears -
I have one rite - a gentle kiss -
One penance - tender tears -
O could it thus forever be
That I might so adore .
I'd ask for all eternity,
To make a paradise for me,
My love - and nothing more!
To A. G. A.
“Thou standest in the green-wood now
“The place, the hour, the same -
“And here the fresh leaves gleam and glow
“And there, down in the lake below
“The tiney ripples flame -
The farewell's echo from thy soul
Should not be gone, depart before
Hills rise and distant rivers roll
Between us evermore -
I know that I have done thee wrong.
- Have wronged both thee and Heaven -
And I might may mourn my life time long
Yet could may not be forgiven -
Repentant tears will[ed] vainly fall
To cover deeds untrue;
But not for [illegible] no grief can I recall
The dreary word . Adieu -
Yet thou a future peace shalt win'
Because thy soul is clear;
[While?] And I who had the heart to sin
Will find a heart to bear -
Till far beyond earth's frenzied strife
That makes destruction joy
Thy perished faith shall spring to life
[But I'll not [illegible] of enduring?]
And my remorse shall die
[My self would? [illegible]] -
A. G. A. to A.S. E. May 20th 1838
O [illegible (in pencil)]
O wander not so far away!
O love, forgive this selfish tear.
It may be sad for thee to stay
But how can I live lonely here?
The still may morn is warm and bright
Young flowers look fresh and grass is green
And in the haze of glorious light
Our long low hills are scarcely seen -
The woods - even now their [illegible] [illegible] leaves hide
The blackbird and the stock dove well
And high in heaven so blue and wide
A thousand strains of music swell -
He looks on all with eyes that speak
So deep, so drear a woe to me !
There is a faint red on his cheek
Not like the bloom I used to see.
Can Death - yes, Death, he is mine own!
The grave must close those limbs around
And hush, for ever hush the tone
I loved above all earthly sound.
Well, pass away with the other flowers
Too dark for them, too dark for thee
Are the hours to come, the joyless hours
That time is treasuring up to me :
If thou hast sinned in this world of woe
'Twas but the dust of thy drear abode -
Thy soul was pure when it entered here
And pure it will go again to God -
A.G.A. To the bluebell E. May 9th 1839.
O [illebible (in pencil)] o
Sacred whacher, wave thy bells!
Fair hill flower and woodland child!
Dear to me in deep green dells -
Dearest on the mountains wild -
Bluebell, even as all divine
I have seen my darling shine -
Bluebell, even as wan and frail
I have seen my darling fail -
Thou hast found a voice for me.
And soothing words are breathed by thee -
Thus they murmur, “Summers sun
“Warms me till my life is done -
“Would I rather choose to die
“Under winters ruthless sky ?
“Glad I bloom - and calm I fade
“Weeping twilight dews my bed
“Mourner, mourner dry thy tears.
“Sorrow comes with lengthened years !"
Written in Aspin Castle. E. August 20th 1842 February 6th 1843
O [illegible (pencil)]
How do I love on summer nights
To sit within this Norman door
Whose sombre portal hides the light,
Thickening above me evermore !
How do I love to hear the flow
Of Aspins water murmuring low
And hours long listen to the breeze
That sighs in Beckden's waving trees
To night, there is no wind to wake
One ripple on the lovely lake.
To night the clouds subdued and grey
Starlight and moonlight shut away
'Tis calm and still and almost drear
So utter is the the solitude;
But still I love to linger here
And form my mood to nature's mood -
There's a wild walk beneath the rocks
Following the bend of Aspins side
'Tis worn by feet of mountain-flocks
That wander down to drink the tide
Never by glen cliff and gnarled tree [gnarled tree (in pencil)]
Wound fairy path so sweet to me
Yet of the native shepherds none
In open day and cheerful sun
Will tread its labyrinths alone.
For round their hearths they'll tell the tale
And every listener swears it true
How wanders there a phantom pale
Far less, when evening's pensive hour
Hushes the bird and shuts the flower
And gives to fancy magic power
O'er each familiar tower.
For round their hearths they'll tell the tale
And every listener swears it true
How wanders there a phantom pale
With spirit-eyes of dreamy blue -
It always walks with head declined
Its long curls wave not in the wind
Its face is fair - divinely fair;
But brooding on that angel brow
Rests such a shade of deep dispair
As nought devine could ever know
How oft in twilight lingering lone
I've stood to whach that phantom rise
And seen in mist and moonlit stone
Its gleaming hair and solemn eyes
The ancient men in secret say
Tis the first cheif of Aspin grey
That haunts his feudal home
But why around that alien grave
Three thousand miles beyond the wave.
Where his exiled ashes lie
Beneath Under the cope of Englands sky,
Doth he not rather roam?
I've seen his picture in the hall;
It hangs upon an eastern wall
And often when the sun declines
That picture like an angel shines -
And when the moonbeam chill and blue
Streams the spectral windows through
That picture's like a spectre too -
The hall is full of portraits rare;
Beauty and mystery mingle there -
At his right hand an infant fair
Looks from its golden frame.
And just like his its ringlets bright
It large dark eye of shadowy light
Its cheek's pure hue, its forehead white,
And like its noble name -
Daughter divine ! and could his gaze
Fall coldly on thy peerless face?
And did he never smile to see
Himself restored to infancy?
Never part back that golden flow
Of curls - and kiss that pearly brow
And feel no other earthly bliss
Was equal to that parent's kiss?
No - turn towards the western side
There stands sidonia's deity!
In all her glory, all her pride!
And truely like a god she seems
Some god. of wild enthuisast's dreams
And this is she for whom he died!
For whom his spirit unforgiven,
Wanders [illegible] unsheltered shut from heaven
An out cast for eternity -
Those eyes are dust - those lips are clay.
That form is mouldered all away
Nor thought, nor sense, nor pulse, nor breath
The whole devoured and lost in death!
There is no worm however mean,
That living, is not nobler now
Than she - Lord Alfred's idol queen
So loved - so worshipped long ago -
O come away! the Norman door
Is silvered with a sudden shine -
Come leave these dreams oe'r things of yore
And turn to Nature's face devine -
O'er wood and wold, o'er Flood and fell
O'er flashing lake and gleaming dell
The harvest moon looks down
And when heaven smiles with love and light
And earth looks back so dazzling bright
In such a scene, on such a night
Earths children should not frown -
July 11th 1838
O Douglas's Ride -
Well narrower draw the circle round
And hush that [engine's] [musics (in pencil)] solemn sound,
And quench the lamp and stir the Fire
To rouse its flickering radiance higher;
[Loop?] up the window's velvet veil
That we may hear the night.wind wail .
For wild those gusts and well their chimes
Blend with a song of troubled times -
What Rider up Gobelrins glen
Has spurred his straining steed,
And fast and far from living men
Has pressed with maddening speed?
I saw his hoof-prints mark the rock
When swift he left the plain
I heard deep down, the echoing shock
Re echo[e] back again.
From cliff to cliff, through rock and heath
That coal-black courser bounds;
Nor heeds the river pent beneath,
Nor marks how fierce it sounds.
With streaming hair and forehead bare
And mantle waving wide
His master rides; the eagles there
Soar up on every side:
The goats fly by with timid cry
Their realm so rashly won:
They pause - he still ascends on high
They gaze, but he is gone.
O gallant horse hold on thy course!
The road is tracked behind -
Spur, rider, spur, or vain thy force
Death comes on every wind.
[Roar'd (in pencil)]
Roared thunder loud from that pitchy cloud?
[illegible] it the torrents flow?
Or woke the breeze in the swaying trees
That frown so dark below?
He breathes at last, when the valley is past;
He rests on the grey rock's brow.
What ails thee steed? At thy master's need,
Wilt thou prove faithless now?
No, hardly checked, with ears erect,
The charger champed his rein,
Ere his quivering limbs, all foam.beflecked,
Were off like light again.
Hark through the pass, with threatening crash
Comes on the increasing roar!
But what shall brave the deep, deep wave ?
The deadly pass before?
Their feet are dyed in a darker tide
Who dare those dangers drear -
Their breasts have burst through the battle's worst
And why should they tremble here?
Strong hearts they bear and arms as good
To conquer or to fall
They dash into the boiling flood,
They gain the rock's steep wall -
“Now my bold men this one pass more
“This narrow chasm of stone
“And Douglas- for our soveriegn's gore
“Shall yeild us back his own”-
I hear their ever rising tread
Sound through the granite glen,
There is a tall pine over head
Held by - the mountain . men [men (in pencil)]
That dizzy bridge which no horse could track
Has checked the outlaw's way;
There like a wild beast he turns back
And grimly stands at bay.
Why smiles he so [illegible] when far below
He sees the toiling chase?
The ponderous tree sways heavily
And totters from its place -
They raise their eyes for the sunny skies
Are lost in sudden shade,
But Douglas neither shrinks nor Flies -
He need not Fly the dead -
E. April 17th 1839 -
By R. Gleneden. [illegible (in pencil)]
From our evening fireside now,
Merry laugh and cheerful tone,
Smiling eye and cloudless brow,
Mirth and music all are flown:
Yet the grass before the door
Grows as green in April rain;
And as blithely as of yore
Larks have poured their day-long strain.
Is it fear, or is it sorrow
Checks the stagnant stream of joy?
Do we tremble that tomorrow
May our present peace destroy?
For past misery are we greiving weeping?
What is past can hurt no more;
And the gracious Heavens are keeping
Aid for that which lies before -
One is absent, and for one
Cheerless, chill is our hearthstone -
One is absent, and for him
Cheeks are pale and eyes are dim -
Arthur, brother, Gondal's shore
Rested from the battle's roar -
Arthur, brother, we returned
Back to Desmond lost and mourned:
Thou didst purchase by thy fall
Home for us and peace for all;
Yet, how darkly dawned that day -
Dreadful was the price to pay!
Just as once, through sun and mist
I have climbed the mountain's breast
Still my gun with certain aim
Brought to earth the fluttering game:
But the very dogs repined,
Though I called with wistle shrill
Listlessly they lagged behind,
Looking backward oer the hill -
Sorrow was not vocal there;
Mute their pain and my dispair
But the joy of life was flown
He was gone, and we were lone -
So it is by morn [and eve (in pencil)] and eve -
So it is in field and hall -
For the absent one we greive,
One being absent, saddens All -
[illegible (in pencil)]
O Gleneden's Dream E. May 21st 183[illegible]8
Tell me, whacher, is it winter?
Say how long my sleep has been?
Have the woods, I left so lovely,
Lost their robes of tender green?
Is the morning slow in coming?
Is the night time loath to go?
Tell me, are the dreary mountains
Drearier still with drifted snow?
“Captive, since thou sawest the forest
“All its leaves have died away
“And another March has woven,
“Garlands for another May -
“Ice has barred the Artic waters,
“Soft south winds have set it free
“And once more to deep green vally
“Golden flowers might welcome thee” -
Watcher, in this lonely prison,
Shut from joy and kindly air
Heaven, descending in a vision
Taught my soul to do and bear -
It was night, a night of winter;
I lay on the dungeon floor,
And all other sounds were silent -
All, except the river's roar -
Over Death, and Desolation,
Fireless hearths, and lifeless homes
Over orphans heart-sick sorrows,'
Patriot fathers bloody tombs;
Over friends that my arms never
Might embrace, in love again -
Memory pondered untill maddness
Struck its poignard in my brain -
Deepest slumber followed raving,
Yet, methought, I brooded still.
Still I saw my country bleeding,
Dying for a Tyrant's will -
Not because my bliss was blasted
Burned within, the avenging flame.
Not because my scattered kindred
Died in woe, or lived in shame.
God doth know, I would have given
Every bosom dear to me
Could that sacrifice have purchased
Tortured Gondals Liberty!
But, that at Ambition's bidding
All her cherished hopes should wane;
That her noblest sons should muster,
Strive, and fight and fall in vain -
Hut and castle, hall and cottage,
Roofless, crumbling to the ground -
Mighty Heaven, a glad avenger
Thy eternal Justice found!
Yes, the arm that once would shudder
Even to grieve a wounded deer,
I beheld it, unrelenting,
Choke in blood its soverign's prayer -
Glorious Dream! I saw the city
Blazing in imperial shine;
And, among adoring thousands,
Stood a man of form devine -
None need point the princely victim
Now he smiles with royal pride!
Now his glance is bright as lightening:
Now - The knife is in his side!
Ha! I saw how death could darken -
Darken that triumphant eye!
His red heart's blood drenched my dagger;
My ear drank his dying sigh!
Shadows came ! what means this midnight?
O my God, I know it all!
- Know the fever-dream is over;
Unavenged, the Avengers fall !
Rosina September 1st 1841.
O __________ [illegible (in pencil)]
Weeks of wild delirium past -
Weeks of fevered pain,
Rest from suffering comes at last -
Reason dawns again -
It was a pleasant April day
Declining to the afternoon
Sunshine upon her pillow lay
As warm as middle June.
It told her how unconsciously
Early spring had hurried by
“Ah Time has not delayed for me!"
She murmured with a sigh -
“Angora's hills have heard their tread
“The crimson flag is planted there -
“Eldenna's waves are rolling red,
“While I lie fettered here!
"-Nay, rather, Gondals shaken throne
“Is now secure and free;
“And my King Julius reigns alone,
“Debtless, alas, to me!"
Loud was the sudden gust of woe
From those who whached around;
Rosina turned and sought to know
Why burst that boding sound.
“What then, my dreams are false," she said
“Come maidens, answer me -
“Has Almadore in battle fled?
“Have slaves subdued the free?
“I know it all, he could not bear
“To leave me dying far away -
“He fondly, madly lingered here
“And we have lost the day! .
But check those coward sobs, and bring
“My robes and smoothe my tangled hair:
“A noble victory you shall sing
“For every hours dispair!
“When will he come? 'T will soon be night -
“He'll come when evening falls -
“Oh I shall weary for the light
“To leave my lonely halls!'
She turned her pallid face aside
As she would seek repose;
But dark Ambitions thwarted pride
Forbade her lips to close -
And still on all who waited by
Oppressive m[y]istry hung;
And swollen with greif, was every eye
And chained was every tongue.
They whispered nought, but, “Lady, sleep,
“Dear Lady, slumber now!
“Had we not bitter cause to weep
“While you were laid so low?
“And Hope can hardly deck the cheek
“With sudden signs of cheer
“When it has worn through many a week
“The [sting?] of anguish drear."
“Fierce grew Rosina's gloomy gaze
She cried, “Dissemblers, own
“Erina's arms in victory blaze
“Brenzaida's ctest is down”
“Well, since it must be told. Lady,
“Brenzaida's crest is down
“Brenzaida's sun is set, Lady,
“His empire over thrown!
“He died beneath this palace dome -
“True hearts on every side -
“Among his guards, within his home
“Our glorious monarch died
“I saw him fall. I saw the gore
“From his heart's fountain swell
“And, mingling on the marble floor
“His murderers life-blood fell -
“And now, mid northern mountains lone
“His desert grave is made;
“And, Lady, of your love, alone
“Remains a mortal shade!"
E. [illegible O
(in pencil)] Song by Julius Brenzaida. October 17th 1838.
Geraldine, the moon is shining
With so soft, so bright a ray,
Seems it not that eve s declining
Ushered in a fairer day?
While the wind is whispering only,
Far - accross the water borne
Let us, in this silence lonely
Sit beneath the ancient thorn -
Wild the road, and rough and dreary;
Barren all the moorland round;
Rude the couch that rests us weary;
Mossy stone and heathy ground -
But when winter storms were meeting
In the moonless midnight dome
Did we heed the tempest's beating
Howling round our spirits' home?
No, that tree, with branches riven
Whitening in the whirl of snow,
As it tossed against the heaven,
Sheltered happy hearts below -
And at Autumn's mild returning
Shall our feet forget the way?
And in Cynthia's silver morning,
Geraldine, wilt thou delay?
E. * Song by J. Brenzaida to G.S. October 17th 1838.
Love's Farewell (in pencil)
I knew not 't was so dire a crime
To say the word, Adieu;
But, this shall be the only time
My slighted heart shall sue.
That wild moonside, [hill (in pencil)] the winter morn,
The gnarled and ancient tree.
If in your breast they waken scorn
Shall wake the same in me.
I can forget black eyes and brows
And lips of rosey [fulsest? (in pencil)] charm
If you forget the sacred vows
Those faithless lips could form -
If hard commands can tame your love,
Or prison [lonely? (in pencil)] walls can hold
I would not wish to greive above
A thing so false and cold -
And there are bosoms bound to mine
With links both tried and strong;
And there are eyes, whose lightening shine
Has warmed and blessed me long:
Those eyes shall make my only day,
Shall set my spirit free
And chase the foolish thoughts away
That mourn your memory!
O Geraldine [illegible] E. August 17th 1841.
o [illegible (in pencil)]
'Twas night, her comrades gathered all
Within their city's rocky wall;
When flowers were closed and day was o'er
Their joyous hearts awoke the more
But lonely, in her distant cave
She heard the river's restless wave
Chafing its banks with dreamy flow;
Music for mirth , and wail for woe -
Palm trees and cedars towering high
Deepened the gloom of evening's sky
And thick did raven ringlets veil
Her forehead, drooped like lily pale
Yet I could hear my lady sing;
I knew she did not mourn,
For never yet from sorrow's spring
Such witching notes were born
Thus poured she in that cavern wild
The voice of feelings warm
As, bending o'er her beauteous child
She clasped its sleeping form -
“Why sank so soon the summer sun
“From our Zedora's skies?
“I was not tired, my darling one,
“Of gazing in thine eyes -
“Methought the heaven whence thou hast come
“Was lingering there awhile
“And Earth seemed such an alien home
“They did not dare to smile.
“Methought each moment, something strange
“Within their circles shone
“And yet, through every magic change
“They were my Brenzaida's own.
“Methought - what thought I not, sweet love?
“My whole heart centred there;
“I breathed not but to send above
“One gush of ardent prayer.
“Bless it, my gracious God,' I cried,
“Preserve thy mortal shrine
“For Thine own sake, be thou its guide
“And keep it still devine :
“Say, sin shall never blanche that cheek
“Nor suffering change that brow
“Speak, in thy mercy maker, speak
“And seal it safe from woe!"
“Why did I doubt? In God's control
“Our mutual fates remain
“And pure as now, my angel's soul
"Must go to heaven again!"
The revellers in the city slept,
my lady, in her woodland bed;
I, whaching o'er her slumber wept
A.G.A. As one who mourns the dead! E. August 30th 1838.
+ The Lady to her guitar (in pencil)
For him who struck thy foreign string
I ween this heart hath ceased to care
Then why dost thou such feelings bring
To my sad spirit, old guitar?
It is as if the warm sunlight
In some deep glen should lingering stay
When clouds of tempest and of night
Had wrapted the parent orb away.
It is as if the glassy brook
Should image still its willows fair
Though years ago, the woodman's stroke
Laid low in dust their gleaming [Dryad (in pencil)] hair:
Even so, guitar, thy magic tone
Hath moved the tear and woken [waked (in pencil)] the sigh
Hath bid the ancient torrent flow
Although its very source is dry!
F. De Samara. written in the Gaaldine E. January 6th 1840.
[illegible (in pencil)] O O
Thy sun is near meridian height
And my sun sinks in endless night;
But if that night bring only sleep
Then I shall rest, while thou wilt weep.
And say not, that my early tomb
Will give me to a darker doom.
Shall these long agonising years
Be punished by eternal tears?
No, that I feel can never be;
A God of hate could hardly bear
To whach, through all eternity,
His own creations dread dispair!
The pangs that wring my mortal breast
Must claim from Justice, lasting rest:
Enough, that this departing breath
Will pass in anguish worse than death -
If I have sinned, long, long ago
That sin was purifyed by woe -
I've suffered on through night and day;
I've trod a dark and frightful way -
Earth's wilderness was round me spread
Heaven's tempests beat my naked head -
I did not kneel - in vain would prayer
Have sought one gleam of mercy there!
How could I ask for pitying love
When that grim concave frowned above
Hoarding its lightenings to destroy
My only and my priceless joy?
They struck - and long may Eden shine
Ere I would call its glories mine
All Heaven's undreamt felicity
Could never blot the past from me -
No, years may cloud and death may sever
But what is done, is done for ever -
And thou False freind, and treacherous guide,
Go sate thy cruel heart with pride -
Go, load my memory with shame;
Speak but to curse my hated name;
My tortured limbs in dungeons bind
And spare my life to kill my mind -
Leave me in chains and darkness now
And when my very soul is worn;
When reasons light has left my brow
And madness cannot feel thy scorn;
Then come again - thou wilt not shrink;
I know thy soul is free from fear
The last full cup of triumph drink,
Before the blank of death be there -
Thy raving, dying victim see;
Lost, cursed, degraded all for thee!
Gaze on the wretch - recall to mind
His golden days left long behind.
Does memory sleep in Lethian rest?
Or wakes its wisper in thy breast?
O memory, wake! let scenes return
That even her haughty heart must mourn!
Reveal, where o'er a lone green wood
The moon of summer pours
Far down from heaven, its silver flood
On deep Eldenna's shores -
There, lingering in the wild embrace
Youth's warm affections gave
She sits, and fondly seems to trace
His features in the wave -
And while, on that reflected face
Her eyes intently dwell:
“Fernando, sing to night, she- says,
“The Lays I love so well -"
He smiles and sings through every air
Betray, the faith of yesterday:
His soul is glad to cast for her
Virtue and faith and Heaven away -
Well, thou hast paid me back my love!
But, if there be a God above
Whose arm is strong, whose word is true
This hell shall wring thy spirit too !
F. De Samara to A.G.A. E. November 1st 1838.
[illegible (in pencil)] o O
Light up thy halls ! 'Tis closing day;
I'm drear and lone and far away.
Cold blows on my breast, the northwind's bitter sigh
And oh, my couch is bleak, beneath the rainy sky!
Light up thy halls - and think not of me;
That face is absent now, thou has hated so to see -
Bright be thine eyes, undimmed their dazzlling shine,
For never, never more shall they encounter mine!
The desert moor is dark; there is tempest in the air:
I have breathed my only wish in one last, one burning prayer -
A prayer that would come forth although it lingered long;
That set on fire my heart, but froze upon my tongue -
And now, it shall be done before the morning rise;
I will not whach the sun ascend in yonder skies.
One task alone remains - thy pictured face to view
And then I go to prove if God, at least, be true!
Do I not see thee now? Thy black resplendent hair;
Thy glory-beaming brow, and smile how heavenly fair!
` Thine eyes are turned away - those eyes I would not see;
Their dark, their deadly ray would more than madden me
There, go, Deceiver, go! My hand is streaming wet;
My heart's blood flows to buy the blessing - To forget!
Oh could that lost heart give back, back again to thine
One tenth part of the pain that clouds my dark decline!
Oh could I see thy lids weighed down in cheerless woe;
Too full to hide their tears, to stern to overflow;
Oh could I know thy soul with equal greif was torn -
This fate might be endured - this anguish might be borne!
How gloomy grows the Night! 'Tis Gondal's wind that blows
I shall not tread again the deep glens where it rose -
I feel it on my face - where, wild blast, dost thou roam?
What do we, wanderer, here? so far away from home?
I do not need thy breath to cool my death-cold brow
But go to that far land where she is shining now;
Tell Her my latest wish, tell Her my dreary doom;
Say, that my pangs are past, but Hers are yet to come -
Vain words - vain, frenzied thoughts! No ear can hear me call -
Lost in the vacant air my frantic curses fall.
And could she see me now, per chance her lip would smile
Would smile in carless pride and utter scorn the while!
And yet, for all Her hate, each parting glance would tell
A stronger passion breathed, burned in this last farewell -
Un conquered in my soul the Tyrant rules me still -
Life bows to my control, but, Love I cannot kill!
E.J. Written on returning to the P. of I. on the 10th. June 14th 1839
of January 1827 -
O [illegible (in pencil)]
The buissy day has hurried by
And hearts greet kindred hearts once more
And swift the evening hours should fly
But - what turns every gleaming eye
So often to the door ?
And then so quick away - and why
Does sudden silence chill the room?
And laughter sink into a sigh -
And merry words to whispers die -
And gladness change to gloom?
O we are listening for a sound
We know, shall never be heard again
Sweet voices in the halls resound;
Fair forms, fond faces gather round
But all in vain - in vain !
Their feet shall never waken more
The echoes in those galleries wide,
Nor dare the snow on the mountain's brow,
Nor skim the river's frozen flow,
Nor wander down its side -
They who have been our life - our soul -
Through summer-youth, from childhood's spring -
Who bound us in one vigorous whole
To stand 'gainst Tyrrany's control
For ever triumphing -
Who bore the brunt of battle's fray
The first to fight, the last to fall
Whose mighty minds - with kindred lay
Still led the van in Glory's way -
The idol cheifs of all -
They, they are gone! not for a while
As golden suns at night decline
And even in death our greif beguile
Fortelling, with a rose-red smile
How bright the morn will shine -
No these dark towers are lone and lorn;
This very crowd is vacancy;
And we must whach and wait and mourn
And half look out for their return;
And think their forms we see -
And fancy music in our ear
Such as their lips could only pour
And think we feel their presence near
And start to find they are not here
And never shall be more!
EJ. On the Fall of Zalona . February 24th 1843.
[illegible (in pencil)] o O
All blue and bright, in glorious light
The morn comes marching on.
And now Zalona's steeples white
Glow golden in the sun -
This day might be a festal day;
The streets are crowded all,
And emerald flags stream broad and gay
From turret, tower and wall;
And hark! how music, evermore
Is sounding in the sky;
The deep bells boom - the cannon roar,
The trumpets sound on high -
The deep bells boom, the deep bells clash
Upon the reeling air:
The cannon, with unceasing crash
Make answer far and near -
What do those brazen tongues proclaim?
What joyous fete begun -
What offering to our country's fame -
What noble victory won?
Go ask that solitary sire
Laid in his house alone;
His silent hearth without a fire -
His sons and daughters gone -
Go, ask those children, in the street
Beside their mother's door;
Waiting to hear the lingering feet
That they shall hear no more.
Ask those pale soldiers round the gates
With famine-kindled eye -
They'll say, '“Zalona celebrates
The day that she must die !
The charger, by his manger tied
Has rested many a day;
Yet ere the spur have touched his side,
Behold, he sinks away!
And hungry dogs, with wolf-like cry
Unburied corpses tear;
While their gaunt masters gaze and sigh
And scarce the feast forbear.
Now, look down from Zalona's wall -
There, war the unwearied foe:
If ranks before the cannon fall,
New ranks, for ever, grow -
And many a week, unbroken thus, [unbroken thus (in pencil above)]
Their troops, our ramparts hem;
And for each man that fights for us
A hundred fight for them !
Courage and Right and spotless Truth
Were pitched 'gainst traitorous crime
We offered all - our age, our youth -
Our brave men in their prime -
And all have failed ! the fervant prayers,
The trust in heavenly aid,
Valour and Faith and sealed tears
That would not mourn the dead -
Lips, that did breathe no murmering word;
Hearts, that did ne'er complain
Though vengeance held a sheathed sword
And martyrs bled in vain -
Alas, alas, the Myrtle bowers
By blighting blasts destroyed!
Alas, the Lily's withered flowers
That leave the garden void!
-Unfolds o'er tower, and waves o'er height,
A sheet of crimson sheen -
Is it the setting sun's red light
That stains our standard green?
Heaven helpus in this awful hour!
For now might Faith decay,
Now might we doubt God's gardian power
And curse, instead of pray -
He will not even let us die -
- Not let us die at home;
The foe must see our soldiers Fly
As they had feared the Tomb:
Because, we dare not stay to gain
Those long[ed] for, glorious graves -
We dare not shrink from slavery's chain
To leave our children slaves!
But when this scene of awful woe
Has neared its final close
As God forsook our armies, so
May He forsake our foes!
E.J. A. G. A. The Death of ( January 1841 - )
(May 1844 - )
O [illegible (in pencil)]
Were they shepherds, who sat all day
On that brown mountain - side?
But neither staff nor dog had they;
Nor wooly flock to guide -
They were clothed in savage attire:
Their locks were dark and long:
And at their each belt [illegible] [a] weapon[s (in pencil)] dire
Like bandit-knife was hung -
One was a woman tall and fair;
A princess she might be
From her stately form and her features rare
And her look of majesty .
But oh, she had a sullen frown -
A lip of cruel scorn -
As sweet tears never melted down
Her cheeks since she was born !
'Twas well she had no sceptre to wield,
No subject land to sway;
Fear might have made her vassals yeild
But love had been far away -
Yet, Love was ever at her feet
In his most burning mood -
That Love, which will the wicked greet
As kindly as the Good -
And he was noble too, who bowed
So humbly by her side -
Entreating, till his eyes o'er flowed,
Her spirit's icy pride -
“Angelica, From my very birth
“I have been nursed in strife,
“And lived upon this weary Earth
“A wanderer, all my life;
“The baited Tiger could not be
“So much athirst for gore,
“For men and Laws have tortured me
“Till I can bear no more -
“The guiltless blood upon my hands
“Will shut me out from heaven
“And here, and even in foriegn lands
“I can not find a haven -
“And in all space, and in all time,
“And through Eternity,
“To aid a spirit lost in crime,
“I have no hope but thee -
“Yet will I swear, No saint on high
“A truer faith could prove -
“No angel, from that holy sky,
“Could give thee purer love!
“For thee, through never ending years
“I'd suffer endless pain;
“But-only give me back my tears
“Return my love again!"
Many a time, unheeded, thus
The reckless man would pray;
But something woke an answering flush
On his lady's brow to day,
And her eye flashed flame, as she turned to speak,
In concord with her reddening cheek -
“I've known a hundred kinds of love -
"All, made the loved one rue; [illegible (in pencil)]
“And what is thine, that it should prove,
“Than other love, more true?
“Listen, I've know a burning heart
“To which my own was given
“Nay, not w i th passion, do not start -
“Our love was love from heaven:
“At least if heavenly love be born
“In the pure light of childhood's morn
“Long ere the poison-tainted air
“From this worlds plague - few rises there:
“That heart was like a tropic sun
“That kindles all it shines upon;
“And never Fejian devotee
“Gave worship half so warm as I [illegible]
“And never [glistening] radiant bow could be
“So welcome in a stormy sky
“My soul dwelt with her day and night
“She was my all sufficing light -
“My childhoods mate, my girlhood's guide
“My only blessing, only pride
“But cursed be the very earth
“That gave that friend her fatal birth!
“With her own hand she bent the bow
“That laid my best affections low.
“Then mocked my greif and scorned my prayers
“And drowned my bloom of youth in tears -
“Warnings, reproaches, both were vain;
“What recked she of another's pain?
“My dearer self she would not spare -
“From Honours voice, she turned his ear:
“First made her love his only stay;
“Then snatched the treacherous prop away!
“Douglas, he pleaded bitterly -
“He pleaded, as you plead to me,
“For life-long chains or timeless tomb
“Or any, but an Exile's doom :
“We both were scorned - both sternly driven
“To shelter 'neath a foriegn heaven;
“And darkens o'er that dreary time
“A wildering dream of frenzied crime -
“I would not now those days recall;
“The oath within that caverned hall
“And its fulfilment, these you know:
“We both together struck the blow:
“But - you can never know the pain
“That my lost heart did then sustain
“When, severed wide by guiltless gore,
“I felt that one could live no more!
“Back maddening thought! - the grave is deep
“Where my Amedeus lies asleep,
“And I have long forgot to weep -
“Now hear me, in these regions wild
“I saw to day my enemy
“Unarmed, as helpless as a child
“She slumbered on a sunny lea;
“Two Freinds, no other guard had she;
“And they were wandering on the braes;
“And chasing, in regardless glee,
“The wild goat o'er his dangerous ways -
“My hand was raised - my knife was bare;
“With stealthy tread I stole along
“But a wild bird sprang from his hidden lair
“And woke her with a sudden song:
“Yet moved she not; she only raised
“Her lids and on the bright sun gazed
“And uttered such a dreary sigh
“I thought, just then she should not die
“Since living was such misery -
“Now Douglas, for our hunted band -
“For future joy and former woe,
“Assist me, with thy heart and hand
“To send to hell my mortal foe -
“Her friends fall first, that she may drain
“A deeper cup of bitterer pain;
“Yonder they stand and whach the waves
“Dash in among the echoing caves -
“Their farewell sight of earth and sea;
“Come, Douglas, rise and go with me -"
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The lark sang clearly overhead
And sweetly hummed the Bee
And softly, round their dying bed,
The wind blew from the sea -
Fair Surry would have raised her eyes
To see that water shine;
To see once more, in mountain skies
The summer sun decline:
But ever, on her fading cheek,
The languid lid would close
As weary that such light should break
Its much-desired repose -
And she was waning fast away -
Even Memory's voice grew dim;
Her former life's eventful day
Had dwindled to a dream;
And hardly could her mind recall
One thought of joy or pain;
That cloud was gathering over all
Which never clears again;
In vain - in vain, you need not gaze
Upon those features now!
That sinking head you need not raise,
Nor kiss that pulseless brow -
Let out the greif that chokes your breath;
Lord Lesley, set it free;
The sternest eye, for such a death
Might fill with sympathy.
The tresses o'er her bosom spread
Were by a faint breeze blown;
“Her heart is beating, Lesley said,
“She is not really gone!"
And still that form he fondly pressed,
And still of hope he dreamed
Nor marked, how from his own young breast
Life's crimson current streamed -
At last, the sunshine left the ground,
The laden bee flew home,
The deepdown sea, with sudden sound
Impelled its waves to foam;
And the corpse grew heavy on his arm,
The starry heaven grew dim,
The summer night so mild and warm
Felt wintery chill to him .
A troubled shadow, o'er his eye
Came down, and rested there;
The moors and sky went swimming by
Confused and strange and drear.
He faintly prayed, “Oh, Death, delay
“Thy last fell dart to throw
“Till I can hear my sovereign say,
“The traitors heads are low!
“God, guard her life, since not to me
“That dearest boon was given;
“God, bless her sun with victory
“Or bless not me with heaven!"
Then came the cry of agony;
The pang of parting pain;
And he had overpassed the sea
That none can pass again -
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Douglas leaned above the well;
Heather banks around him rose;
Bright and warm the sunshine fell
On that spot of sweet repose -
With the blue heaven bending o'er
And the soft wind singing by
And the clear stream, evermore
Mingling harmony -
On the shady side reclined,
He whached its waters play
And sound and sight had well combined
To banish gloom away -
A voice spoke near - “She'll come, it said,
“And Douglas, thou shallt be
“My love, although the very dead
“Should rise to rival thee!
“Now only let thine arm be true
“And nerved, like mine, to kill;
“And Gondal's royal race shall rue
“This day on Elmor Hill!"
They wait not long, the rustling heath
Betrays their royal foe;
With hurried step and panting breath
And cheek almost as white as death,
Augusta sprang below -
Yet marked she not where Douglas lay
She only saw the well;
The tiney fountain, churning spray
Within its mossy cell -
“Oh, I have wrongs to pay, she cried,
“Give life, give vigour now !"
And, stooping by the waters side
She drank its crystal flow.
And brightly, with that draught, came back
The glory of her matchless eye
As, glancing o'er the moorland track,
She shook her head impatiently -
Nor shape, nor shade - the mountain flocks
[illegible (in pencil)
Quietly feed in grassy dells;
Nor sound, except the distant rocks
Echoing to their bells -
She turns to - she meets the Murderer's gaze:
Her own is scorched with a sudden blaze -
The blood streams down her brow;
Long he gazed and held his breath,
Kneeling on the blood-stained heath;
Long he gazed those lids beneath
Looking into Death!
Not a word from his followers fell,
They stood by mute and pale;
That black treason uttered well [treason (in pencil)]
Its own heart-harrowing tale -
But earth was bathed in other gore;
There were crimson drops accross the moor
And Lord Eldred, glancing round
Saw those tokens on the ground;
“Bring him back! he hoarsely said,
“Wounded is the traitor fled -
“Vengeance may hold but minutes breif
“And you have all your lives for greif "
He is left alone - he sees the stars
Their quiet course continuing
And, far away, down Elmor scars
He hears the stream its waters fling:
That lulling monotone did sing
Of broken rock and shaggy glen.
Of welcome for the moorcock's wing,
But, not of wail for men!
Nothing in heaven or earth to show
One sign of sympathising woe -
And nothing but that agony
In her now unconscious eye
To weigh upon the labouring breast
And prove she did not pass at rest -
But he who whached, in thought had gone
Retracing back her lifetime flown;
Like sudden ghosts, to memory came
Full many a face, and many a name,
Full many a heart, that in the tomb
He almost deemed, might have throbbed again
Had they but known her dreary doom,
Had they but seen their idol. there,
A wreck of desolate dispair,
Left to the wild birds of the air
And mountain winds and rain!
I'd linger here a summer day
Nor care how fast the hours flew by
Nor mark the suns departing ray
Smile sadly glorious from the sky -
Then, then I might have laid thee down
And deemed thy sleep would gentle be
I might have left thee, darling one
And thought thy god was guarding thee!
But now, there is no wandering glow
No gleam to say that God is nigh;
And coldly spreads thy couch of snow
And harshly sounds thy lullaby.
Forests of heather dark and long
Wave their brown branching arms above
And they must soothe thee with their song
And they must sheild my child of love!
Alas the flakes are heavily falling
They cover fast each guardian crest; [illegible (pencil)]
And chilly white their shroud is palling
Thy frozen limbs and freezing breast -
Wakes up the storm more madly wild
The mountain drifts are tossed on high -
Farewell unblessed, unfriended child,
I cannot bear to whach thee die!
E. + * E.W. to A.G.A. March 11th 1844 -
[On a life perverted (in pencil)]
How few, of all the hearts that loved,
Are greiveing for thee now!
And why should mine, to night, be moved
With such a sense of woe?
Too often, thus, when left alone
Where none my thoughts can see,
Comes back a word, a passing tone
From thy strange history -
_______________ [illegible (in pencil)]
Come, walk with me,
There's only thee
To bless my spirit now -
We used to love on winter nights
To wander through the snow;
Can we not woo back old delights?
The clouds rush dark and wild
They fleck with shade our mountain height,
The same as long ago
And on the horizon rest at last
In looming masses piled;
While moonbeams flash and fly so fast
We scarce can say they smiled.
Come walk with me, come walk with me;
We were not once so few
But Death has stolen our company
As sunshine steals the dew -
He took them one by one and we
Are left - the only two;
So closer would my feelings twine
Because they have no stay but thine -
“Nay call me not - it may not be
“Is human love so true?
“Can Freindship's flower droop on for years
“And then revive anew?
“No, though the soil be wet with tears
“How fair so e'er it grew
“The vital sap once perished
“Will never flow again
“And surer than that dwelling dread,
“The narrow dungeon of the Dead,
“Time parts the hearts of men "
+ [illegible (in pencil)] O
Date 18 E G. to M.R. E May 4th 1843
[A Serenade (in pencil)]
Thy Guardians are asleep
So I'm come to bid thee rise;
Thou hast a holy vow to keep
Ere yon crescent quit the skies:
Though clouds careering wide
Will hardly let her gleam
She's bright enough to be our guide
Accross the mountain stream.
+* _______________ E. September 6th 1843
[Waiting a reply?]
In the earth, the earth thou shalt be laid
A grey stone standing over thee;
Black mould beneath thee spread
And black mould to cover thee.
“Well, there is rest there
“So fast come thy prophecy .
“The time when my sunny hair
“Shall with grass roots twined be”
“But cold, cold is that resting place
Shut out from Joy and Liberty
And all who loved thy living face
Will shrink from its gloom and thee
“Not so, here the world is chill
“And sworn Friends fall from me
“But there, they'll own me still
“And prize my memory”
Farewell then, all that love
All that deep sympathy:
Sleep on, heaven laughs above.
Earth never misses thee.
Turf-sod and tombstone drear
Part human company
One heart broke, only, there [there (in pencil)]
[But That heart was worthy thee ! -
(in pencil)] _______________
A S to G S . . . . December 19th 1841.
* [encouragement (in pencil)]
I do not weep. I would not weep;
Our Mother needs no tears:
Dry thine eyes too, 'tis vain to keep
This causless greif for years
What though her brow be changed and cold.
Her sweet eyes closed for ever?
What though the stone - the darksome mould
Our mortal bodies sever?
What though her hand smooth[e] ne'er again
Those silken locks of thine -
Nor through long hours of future pain
Her kind face o'er thee shine?
Remember still she is not dead
She sees us [illegible] [sister (in pencil)] now
Laid where her angel spirit fled
Mid heath and frozen snow
The blast which almost rends their sail
Is welcome as a friend;
It brings them home, that thundering gale
Home to their journey's end;
Home to our souls whose wearying sighs
Lament their absence drear.
And feel how bright even winter skies
Would shine if they were here!
May 1st 1844
[illegible] The linnet in the rocky dells,
The moorlark in the air,
The bee among the heather bells
That hide my lady fair -
The wilddeer browse above her breast;
The wildbirds raise their brood,
And they, her smiles of love carest,
Have left her solitude !
I ween, that when the graves dark wall
Did first her form retain
They thought their hearts could ne'er recall
The light of joy again.
They thought the tide of greif would flow
Unchecked through future years
But where is all their anguish now,
And where are all their tears?
Well, let them fight for Honour's breath
Or Pleasure's shade pursue -
The Dweller[s?] in the land of Death.
Are Is changed and careless too -
And if their eyes should whach and weep
Till sorrows' source were dry
She would not in her tranquil sleep
Return a single sigh -
Blow, west wind, by the lonely mound
And murmur, summer streams;
There is no need of other sound
To soothe my Lady's dreams -
__________ E W
Except for you the billowy sea
Would now be tossing under me
The winds' wild voice my bosom thrill
And my glad heart bound wilder still
Flying before the rapid gale
Those wonderous southern isles to hail
Which wait for my companions free
But thank your passion - not for me!
You know too well - and so do I
Your haughty beauty's sovereignty
Yet have I read those falcon eyes -
Have dived into their mysteries -
Have studied long their glance and feel
It is not love those eyes reveal -
They Flash. they burn with lightening shine
But not with such fond fire as mine;
The tender star fades faint and wan
Before Ambition's scorching sun -
So deem I how - and Time will prove
If I have wronged Rosina's love -
Dec 2d. 1844. * From a D.W in the N C. AGA. Sept - 1826.
[Drawing of a hand. Pub?“O day, He cannot die ;“When thou so fair art shining.
“O sun, in such a tranquil glorious sky
“So gloriously tranquilly declining,
“He cannot leave thee now
“While fresh west winds are blowing
“And all around his youthful brow
“Thy cheerful light is glowing!
“Elbë awake, awake!
“The golden evening gleams
“Warm and bright on Arden’s lake.
“Arouse thee from thy dreams!
"Beside thee, on my knee,
“My own dearest friend, I pray
“That thou. to cross the eternal sea
“Wouldst yet - one hour delay!
“I hear its billows roar
“I see them foaming high
“But no glimpse of a further shore
“Has blessed my straining eye -
For face to face will our kindred stand
And as they are so we shall be
Forgetting how the same sweet earth has borne and nourished all -
One must fight for the people's power
And one for the rights of royalty
And each be ready to give his life to work the other's fall -
The chance of war we cannot shun
Nor would we shrink from our father's cause
Nor dread Death more because the hand that gives it may be dear
We must bear to see Ambition rule
Over Love, with his iron laws;
Must yeild our blood for a stranger's sake and refuse ourselves a tear!
So, the wind may never again
Blow as now it blows for us
And the stars may never again shine as now they shine
Next October, the cannon's roar
From hostile ranks may be urging us -
Me to strike for your life's blood and you to strike for mine -
E I.M. to I G. November 6th. 1844.
“The winter wind is loud and wild
“Come close to me my darling child!
“Forsake thy books and matless play
“And while the night is closing grey
“We'll talk its pensive hours away -
“Iernë, round our sheltered Hall
“November's blasts unheeded call
“Not one fair breath can enter here
“Enough to wave my daughter's hair.
“And I am glad to whach the blaze
“Glance from her eyes with mimic rays;
“To feel her cheek so softly pressed
“In happy quiet on my breast;
“But yet, even this tranquility
“Brings bitter, restless thoughts to me
“And in the red fire's cheerful glow
“I think of deep glens blocked with snow
“I dream of moor and misty hill
“Where evening gathers dark and chill,
“For, lone, among the mountains cold
“Lie those that I have loved of old
“And my heart aches in speechless pain
“Exhausted with repinings vain
“That I shall see them ne'er again!"
November 21st 1844
M. Douglas to E.R. Gleneden
The moon is full this winter night;
The stars are clear, though few
And every window glistens bright
With leaves of frozen dew -
The sweet moon through your lattice gleams
And lights your room like day
And, there, you pass in happy dreams
The peaceful hours away;
While I, with effort hardly quelling
The anguish in my breast
Wander about the silent dwelling
And cannot think of rest.
The old clock in the gloomy hall
Ticks on from hour to hour
And every time, its measured call
Seems lingering slow and slower.
And O how slow that keen-eyed star
Has tracked the chilly grey!
What whaching yet, how very far
The morning lies away!
Beside your chamber door I stand
Love, are you slumbering still?
My cold heart underneath my hand
Has almost ceased to thrill
Bleak, bleak the east wind sobs and sighs
And drowns the turret bell
Whose sad note undistinguished, dies,
Unheard, like my farewell .
Tomorrow scorn will blight my name
And Hate will trample me -
Will load me with a coward's shame
A Traitor's perjury!
False Friends will launch their venomed sneers .
True Friends will wish me dead;
And I shall cause the bitterest tears
That you have ever shed!
Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover
Over the mountains on Angora's shore:
Resting their wings where heath and firn-leaves cover
Thy That noble heart for ever, ever more?
Cold in the earth, and fifteen wild Decembers
From those brown hills have melted into spring -
Faithful indeed is the spirit that remembers
After such years of change and suffering!
Sweet Love of youth, forgive if I forget thee
While the world's tide is bearing me along
Sterner desires and darker hopes beset me
Hopes which obscure but cannot do thee wrong -
No other sun has lightened up my heaven;
No other star has ever shone for me
All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given -
All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee
But when the days of golden dreams had perished
And even Dispair was powerless to destroy
Then did I learn how existance could be cherished
Strengthened and fed without the aid of joy
Then did I check the tears of usless passion,
Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;
Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten
Down to that tomb already more than mine!
And even yet, I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain
Once drinking deep of that delightful devinest anguish
How could I seek the empty world again?
_______ May 17th 1842
[illegible (in pencil) O H.A. and A.S.
In the same place, when Nature Wore
The same celestial glow;
I'm sure I've seen those forms before
But many Springs ago;
Rodric Lesley. 1830 Dec 18th 1843.
Roderic (in pencil)
Lie down and rest. the fight is done
Thy comrades to the camp retire;
Gaze not so earnestly upon
The far gleam of the beacon fire.
Listen not to the wind-borne sounds
Of music and of soldiers cheer;
Thou canst not go - remembered wounds
Exhaust thy life and hold thee here.
Had that hand power to raise the sword
Which since this morn laid hundreds [many (in pencil)] low
Had that tongue strength to speak the word
That urged thy followers on the foe
Were that warm blood within thy veins
Which now upon the earth is flowing
Splashing its sod with crimson stains
Reddening the pale heath round thee growing
Then Rodric, thou mightst still be turning
With eager eye and anxious breast
To where those signal lights are burning -
To where thy monarch's legions [thy war worn comrades (in pencil]) rest.
But never more - look up and see
The twilight fading from the skies
That last dim beam that sets for thee,
Rodric, For thee shall never rise!
O o April 22d 1845
+ [illegible (pencil)]
A thousand sounds of happiness
And only one of real distress:
One hardly uttered groan -
But that has quashed hushed all vocal joy,
Eclipsed the glory of the sky
And made me think that misery
Rules in our world alone!
About his face the sunshine glows
And in his hair the south wind blows
And violet and wild woodrose
Are sweetly breathing near
Nothing without suggests dismay
If he could force his mind away
From tracking farther day by day
The desert of Dispair.
Day is passing swiftly
Its sad and sombre prime;
Youth is fast invading
Sterner manhood's time -
All the flowers are praying
For sun before they close
And he prays too, unknowing.
That sunless human rose!
Blossems, that the westwind
Has never wooed to blow
Scentless are your petals,
Your dew as cold as snow -
Soul, where kindred kindness
No early promise woke
Barren is your beauty
As weed upon the rock -
Wither, [Brothers, illegible (in pencil)] wither,
You were vainly given -
Earth reserves no blessing
For the unblessed of Heaven!
Child of Delight! with golden sunbright hair
And seablue seadeep eyes
Spirit of Bliss, what brings thee here
Beneath these sullen skies?
Thou shouldest live in eternal [illegible] spring
Where endless day is never dim
Why, seraph, has thy erring wing
Borne thee down to weep with him?
“Ah, not from heaven am I descended
“And I do not come to mingle tears
“But sweet is day though with shadows blended
“And though clouded, sweet are youthful years -
“I, the image of light and gladness
“Saw and pitied that mournful boy
“And I swore to take his gloomy sadness
“And give to him my beamy joy -
“Heavy and dark the night is closing
“Heavy and dark may its biding be
“Better for all from greif reposing
“And better for all who whach like me -
October 9th 1845
+ Julian M. and A.G. Rochelle * 30
The Signal light (in pencil)
Silent is the House - all are laid asleep;
One, alone, looks out o'er the snow-wreaths deep;
Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze
That whirls the wildering drifts and bends the groaning trees -
Cheerful is the hearth, soft the matted floor
Not one shivering gust creeps through pane or door
The little lamp burns straight; its rays shoot strong and far
I trim it well to be the Wanderers guiding star -
Frown my haughty sire, chide my angry Dame;
Set your slaves to spy, threaten me with shame;
But neither sire nor dame, nor prying serf shall know
What angel nightly tracks that waste of winter snow -
* In the dungeon crypts idly did I stray
Reckless of the lives wasting there away;
[illegible (in pencil)]
“Draw the ponderous bars, open Warder stern!"
He dare not say me nay-the hinges harshly turn .
(vertical pencil line)
“Our guests are darkly lodged” I whispered gazing through
The vault whose grated eye showed heaven more grey than blue;
(This was when glad spring laughed in awaking pride.)
“Aye, darkly lodged enough!" returned my sullen guide .
Then, God forgive my youth, forgive my careless tongue!
I scoffed as the chill chains on the damp flagstones rung;
“Confined in triple walls, art thou so much to fear.
“That we must bind thee down, and clench thy fetters here?"
The captive raised her face, it was as soft and mild
As sculptured marble saint or slumbering, unweaned child
It was so' soft and mild, it was so sweet and fair
Pain could not trace a line nor greif a shadow there!
The captive raised her hand and pressed it to her brow
“I have been struck, she said, and I am suffering now
“Yet these are little worth, your bolts and irons strong
“And were they forged in steel they could not hold me long "
Hoarse laughed the jailor grim, “Shall I be won to hear
“Dost think fond, dreaming wretch that I shall grant thy prayer?
“Or better still, wilt melt my master's heart with groans?
“Ah sooner might the sun thaw down these granite stones ! -
“My master's voice is low, his aspect bland and kind
“But hard as hardest flint the soul that lurks behind:
“And I am rough and rude, yet, not more rough to see
“Than is the hidden ghost which has its home in me ! -
About her lips there played a smile of almost scorn
“My friend, she gently said, you have not heard me mourn
“When you, my parent's lives - my lost life can restore
“Then may I weep and sue, but, never, Friend, before!"
“Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less;
“The more that anguish racks the earlier it will bless:
“And robed in fires of Hell, or bright with heavenly shine
“If it but herald Death, the vision is divine -"
[tick above 'un' (pencil)]
She ceased to speak and I, unanswering watched her there
Not daring now to touch one lock of silken hair -
As I had knelt in scorn, on the dank floor I knelt still,
My fingers in the links of that iron hard and chill -
I heard and yet heard not the surly Keeper growl;
I saw, yet did not see, the flagstones damp and foul;
The Keeper, to and fro, paced by the bolted door
And shivered as he walked and as he shivered, swore -
While my cheek glowed in flame, I marked that he did rave
Of air that froze his blood and moisture like the grave -
“We have been two hours good!" he muttered peevishly,
Then, losing off his belt the rusty dungeon key,
He said, “you may be pleased, Lord Julian, still to stay
“But duty will not let me linger here all day:
“If I might go, I'd leave this badge of mine with you
“Not doubting that you'd prove a jailor stern and true”
I took the proffered charge; the captive's drooping lid
Beneath its shady lash a sudden lightening hid
Earth's hope was not so dead heavens home was not so dear
I read it in that flash of longing quelled by fear
Then like a tender child whose hand did just enfold
Safe in its eager grasp a bird it wept to hold
When peirced with one wild glance from the troubled hazle eye
It gushes into tears and lets its treasure fly
Thus ruth and selfish love together striving tore
The heart all newly taught to pity and adore;
If I should break the chain I felt my bird would go
Yet I must break the chain or seal the prisoner's woe - .
Short strife what rest could soothe - what peace could visit me
While she lay pining there for death to set her free?
“Rochelle, the dungeons teem with foes to gorge our hate -
“Thou art too young to die by such a bitter fate!"
With hurried blow on blow I struck the fetters through
Regardless how that deed my after hours might rue
Oh, I was over -blest by the warm unasked embrace -
By the smile of grateful joy that lit her angel face!
And I was overblest - aye, more than I could dream
When, faint, she turned aside from noon's unwonted beam,
And kneaded on the threshing floor
With mire of tears and [reeking?] human gore.
Some said, they thought that heaven's pure rain
Would hardly bless those fields again:
Not so - the all - benignant skies
Rebuked that fear of famished eyes -
July passed on with showers and dew,
And August glowed in showerless blue;
No harvest time could be more fair
Had harvest fruits but ripened there.
And must I tell thee - confess that hate of rest,
And thirst for things abandoned now,
Had weaned me from my country's breast
And brought me to that land of woe.
Enthusiast - in a name delighting,
My alien sword I drew to free
One race, beneath two standards fighting,
For loyalty, and liberty -
When kindred strive. God help the weak!
A brother's ruth 'tis vain to [illegible] seek:
At first, it hurt my chivalry
To join them in their cruelty;
But I grew hard - I learnt to wear
An iron front to terror's prayer;
I learnt to turn my ears away
From torture's groans, as well as they.
By force I learnt - what power had I
To say the conquered should not die?
What heart, one trembling foe to save
When hundreds daily filled the grave?
Yet, there were faces that could move
A moments flash of human love;
And there were fates that made me feel
I was not to the centre, steel -
I've often witnessed wise men fear
To meet distress which they forsaw;
And sinning cowards nobly bear
Anguish A doom that thrilled the brave with awe:
Strange proofs I've seen, how hearts could hide
Their secret with a life - long pride,
And then, reveal it as they died -
Strange courage, and strange weakness too,
In that last hour when most are true,
And timid natures strangely [strong?] nerved
To [desperate?] deeds [that changed the] [illegible not] from which the desperate swerved
These [I] may be told, tell but leave them now.
Go with me where my thoughts would go;
A man, amid the battle's storm;
An infant in the after calm.
Beyond the town his mansion stood
Girt round with pasture-land and wood;
And there our wounded soldiers lying
Enjoyed the ease of wealth in dying:
For him, no mortal more than he
Had softened life with luxury;
And truely did our priest declare
“Of good things he had had his share."
We lodged him in an empty place
The full moon beaming on his face
Through shivered glass, and ruins, made
Where shell and ball the fiercest played.
I watched him his body ghastly couch beside
Regardless if he lived or died -
Nay, muttering curses on the breast
Whose ceasless moans denied me rest:
'Twas hard, I know, 'twas harsh to say,
“Hell snatch thy worthless soul away!"
But then 'twas hard my lids to keep,
Night following night, estranged from sleep.
Through the long
Captive and keeper, both out worn,
Each in his misery yearned for morn;
Even though [that illegible] returning morn should bring
Intenser toil and suffering.
Slow, slow it came! Our dreary room
Grew drearier with departing gloom;
Yet, as the night wind warmly blew
I felt my pulses bound anew,
And turned to him - nor breeze, nor ray
Revived that mould of shattered clay,
Scarce conscious of his pain he lay -
Scarce conscious that my hands removed
The glittering toys his [baby?] lightness loved;
The jewelled rings, and locket fair
Where rival curls of silken hair,
Sable and brown, revealed to me
A tale of [illegible] doubtful constancy.
[Crossed out by diagonal lines - from “Forsake to expire!"]
“Forsake the world without regret;"
I murmured in contemptuous tone;
The world, poor wretch, will soon forget
Thy noble name, when thou art gone!
Happy, if years of slothful shame
Could perish like a noble name - [!"]
If God did no account require
And being with breathing might expire !"]
And words of [illegible] [illegible]
[illegible these] I said
Could harsh insults o'er a dying bed
- Article by:
- John Bowen
- The novel 1832–1880
Situating Emily Brontë in her hometown of Haworth – a small Yorkshire mill town surrounded by moors – Professor John Bowen reflects on the representation of landscape in Wuthering Heights.
- Article by:
- John Bowen
- The novel 1832–1880
Professor John Bowen explores the intertwined nature of fantasy and realism within Emily Brontë’s novel.