Translations from Camoens; and Other Poets, with Original Poetry/Polo meu apartamento
CAMOENS.
Polo meu apartamento.
AMIDST the bitter tears that fell
In anguish at my last farewell,
Oh! who would dream that joy could dwell,
To make that moment bright?
Yet be my judge, each heart! and say,
Which then could most my bosom sway,
Affliction, or delight?
It was, when Hope, opprest with woes,
Seemed her dim eyes in death to close,
That Rapture's brightest beam arose
In sorrow's darkest night.
Thus, if my soul survive that hour,
'Tis that my fate o'ercame the power
Of anguish with delight.
For oh! her love, so long unknown,
She then confest, was all my own,
And in that parting hour alone
Revealed it to my sight.
And now what pangs will rend my soul,
Should fortune still, with stern control,
Forbid me this delight.
I know not if my bliss were vain,
For all the force of parting pain
Forbade suspicious doubts to reign,
When exiled from her sight:
Yet now what double wo for me,
Just at the close of eve, to see
The dayspring of delight.