The Forget Me Not Literary Annual for 1829

Poetess Archive: Collections


Constancy Charles Swain


          " It is -- it is the trumpet's note! --
          Bright Hope once more is mine!
          I see the glorious banners float,
          The martial weapons shine!
          I hear, like an approaching storm,     5
          The warriors' heavy tread:
          Albert! I seek in vain thy form:
          O God! -- canst thou be dead?

          "One -- bust one little moment more,
          My heart forget to ache;     10
          That time hath blessed joys in store --
          Or griefs -- to bid thee break!
          Long years, since our farewell, have past
          In misery and in gloom;
          And, oh! if it should prove our last,     15
          Welcome my shroud and tomb!

          "Alas! How could I live -- yet know
          That thou, my love, wert slain;
          That, gash'd and cold, they noble brow
          Lay on the battle-plain:     20
          That the fond voice, 't was bliss to hear,
          In death had pass'd away: --
          O, Albert, haste -- or doubt and fear
          Thy Genevieve will slay!

          "Who calls? -- the wind my ear deceives --     25
          Again -- 'tis from the grove --
          And, hark! -- a step among the leaves --
          'Tis he! -- my life -- my love!
          O, welcome -- welcome -- to this breast,
          Thou prized of all the most! --     30
          This kiss -- these tears -- will speak the rest --
          Alas! I thought thee lost!"

          "My own fond girl -- my graceful flower --
          My beautiful -- my pride --
          How have I long'd for this blest hour,     35
          When on the ocean wide!
          And is, indeed, thy youthful heart
          Still constant as my own? --
          Then we have met, no more to part;
          To live for love alone!     40

          "O, I have many a tale to tell
          Of woes and perils o'er;
          Of fair and gallant youths that fell
          Upon the Turkish shore! --
          Of dreadful battles on the land,     45
          And tempests on the sea; --
          Still saved, by Heaven's protecting hand,
          My Genevieve -- for thee!"

          "Yet thou look'st pale -- thine arm is bound --
          And faded is thine eye     50
          Ah me! I fear, from sight and sound,
          Thou com'st but home -- to die! --
          But, no! -- I will not speak of this,
          Nor keep one thought of pain;
          This hour is one of soul-felt bliss,     55
          And many may remain!

          "Behold our lovely cottage-home,
          O, never will you meet,
          In any land where'er you roam,
          A spot more fair -- more sweet;     60
          Mother -- dear mother -- bless your child,
          The news was false we learn'd; --
          God on our mutual prayers has smiled --
          Our Albert is return'd!"

Date: 1829 (Web page revisions: 04/22/2006) Author: Charles Swain (Web page revisions: Laura Mandell).
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