Page:Poems Cook.djvu/194

I clank'd the rusted fetter-links with white ribs hard and dry,
Till I had scared the owls away, and then away went I.

From East to West, from North to South, a roving life is mine;
Now howling round the snow-topp'd fir, now toying with the vine;
From beggar's rags to prince's robes, from hut to court I go;
I rule the golden clouds above, and drive the waves below.

Away! away! I cannot stay, I hear the ploughboy's song—
But I can chant as carelessly and whistle just as long:
It comes again—up, up, my wings! the saucy loon shall find
He hath a goodly challenger in me, the angry Wind.

 

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SONG OF THE DYING OLD MAN TO HIS YOUNG WIFE.

Kate, there's a trembling at my heart, a coldness on my brow,
My sight is dim, my breath is faint, I feel I'm dying now;
But ere my vision fadeth quite, ere all of strength be o'er;
Oh! let me look into thy face and press thy hand once more.

I would my latest glance should fall on what I hold most dear;
But, ah! thy cheek is wet again—wipe, wipe away the tear.
Such tears of late have often gemm'd thy drooping eyelids' fringe;
Such tears of late have wash'd away thy young cheek's ruddy tinge.

I brought thee from a simple home to be an old man's bride;
Thou wert the altar where I laid affection, joy, and pride;
My heart's devotion, like the sun, shone forth with glowing power,
And kept its brightest glory rays to mark its setting hour.

I brought thee from a simple home, when early friends had met;
And something fill'd thy farewell tone that whisper'd of regret:
Oh! could I wonder—when you left warm spirits like your own,
To dwell upon far distant earth, with Age and Wealth alone.

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