Part 2 — A PARTING SONG.
Reading edition
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BY PROFESSOR CAMPBELL.
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Free—as the lonely eagle free—
A leaden sky is o’er me—
I’m out upon a leaden sea—
A wide, cold world before me.
Wait’st thou to woo a breeze, my bark?
The eager wave’s upheaving
Chideth thy stay—the little lark
Her upward way is cleaving.
Hymn-bird, how oft thy glorious note
Hath trumpeted the day,
When bark and I were both afloat
Upon our wandering way.
For I have wandered many an hour,
My trusty bark, with thee,
And culled full many a breathing flower
Of wildest Poesy.
In those bright hours, when gliding down
Each flower-reflecting stream,
When health, hope, fancy—all had thrown
Their light o’er boyhood’s dream—
Ah! little did I dream, my boat,
That thou and I should be
Alone upon the world, afloat
Upon the wide, wide sea.
Yet speed we forth—what care I now
That once those bright hours shone?
Is there a blight upon my brow?
No—’tis enough, they’re gone.
Then speed we forth—we leave behind
A home still passing fair,
Some spot to call a home to find—
I know not—care not where.
Be it but distant, distant far,
Across the billowy deep,
Where thought and passion cease to war—
Where misery may sleep.
Sleep! no—’tis but a foolish thought,
That may not, cannot be—
O’er the wide world there is no spot
Of sleep for misery.
Wherever winds the ocean fan,
To-morrow’s born and dies,
Wherever man deceiveth man,
And woman lisps and lies—
In city, or in solitude,
In banquet-hall, or cell—
The past—the past will still intrude—
Memory—the wretch’s hell.
Chance choose the clime—I only seek—
To what else tortures bound—
The spirit feel no vulture beak
Of pity in the wound.
Then speed we forth—ay, speed we forth—
I know not—care not where;
Thou’lt build on any spot of earth
Thy lone, proud home, Despair.
So leap, so leap, brave heart, brave will—
Misery hath taught to know
Still the fierce strength invincible,
That springs to meet the blow.
False friends—fond hopes—mad joys of old
May not forgotten be—
But room, and hurrah! for joys untold
Of brave heart’s victory.
This joy’s infectious—bounds my bark,
As prouder far to bear
Her master, now the heav’ns are dark,
Than when they smiled most fair.
The purpling waters, as they leap
Around her eager prow,
Laugh out in sympathy, and keep
Dark commune with me now.
On, on, my bark, thy gallant keel
Is bounding merrily—
Tossing the white foam, thou dost feel
That now we both are free.
And we are free—oh! we are free—
A sky of storms is o’er us—
A glorious strife, to end with life
And victory, before us.