Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/212

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156
POEMS OF EMILY BRONTË

The 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 Lethean rest?
Or wakes its whisper in thy breast?
O Memory wake! Let scenes return,
That e'en 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
Betrays the faith of yesterday;
His soul is glad to cast for her
Virtue and faith and Heaven away.