1 My sister!
my sweet sister! if a name
2 Dearer and
purer were, it should be thine.
3 Mountains
and seas divide us, but I claim
4 No tears,
but tenderness to answer mine:
5 Go where I
will, to me thou art the same
6 A lov'd regret
which I would not resign.
7 There yet
are two things in my destiny--
8 A world to
roam through, and a home with thee.
9 The first were
nothing--had I still the last,
10 It were the
haven of my happiness;
11 But other
claims and other ties thou hast,
12 And mine
is not the wish to make them less.
13 A strange
doom is thy father's son's, and past
14 Recalling,
as it lies beyond redress;
15 Revers'd
for him our grandsire's fate of yore--
16 He had no
rest at sea, nor I on shore.
17 If my inheritance
of storms hath been
18 In other
elements, and on the rocks
19 Of perils,
overlook'd or unforeseen,
20 I have sustain'd
my share of worldly shocks,
21 The fault
was mine; nor do I seek to screen
22 My errors
with defensive paradox;
23 I have been
cunning in mine overthrow,
24 The careful
pilot of my proper woe.
25 Mine were
my faults, and mine be their reward.
26 My whole
life was a contest, since the day
27 That gave
me being, gave me that which marr'd
28 The gift--a
fate, or will, that walk'd astray;
29 And I at
times have found the struggle hard,
30 And thought
of shaking off my bonds of clay:
31 But now I
fain would for a time survive,
32 If but to
see what next can well arrive.
33 Kingdoms and
empires in my little day
34 I have outliv'd,
and yet I am not old;
35 And when
I look on this, the petty spray
36 Of my own
years of trouble, which have roll'd
37 Like a wild
bay of breakers, melts away:
38 Something--I
know not what--does still uphold
39 A spirit
of slight patience; not in vain,
40 Even for
its own sake, do we purchase pain.
41 Perhaps the
workings of defiance stir
42 Within me--or
perhaps a cold despair,
43 Brought on
when ills habitually recur,
44 Perhaps a
kinder clime, or purer air
45 (For even
to this may change of soul refer,
46 And with
light armour we may learn to bear),
47 Have taught
me a strange quiet, which was not
48 The chief
companion of a calmer lot.
49 I feel almost
at times as I have felt
50 In happy
childhood; trees, and flowers, and brooks,
51 Which do
remember me of where I dwelt
52 Ere my young
mind was sacrific'd to books,
53 Come as of
yore upon me, and can melt
54 My heart
with recognition of their looks;
55 And even
at moments I could think I see
56 Some living
thing to love--but none like thee.
57 Here are the
Alpine landscapes which create
58 A fund for
contemplation; to admire
59 Is a brief
feeling of a trivial date;
60 But something
worthier do such scenes inspire:
61 Here to be
lonely is not desolate,
62 For much
I view which I could most desire,
63 And, above
all, a lake I can behold
64 Lovelier,
not dearer, than our own of old.
65 Oh that thou
wert but with me!--but I grow
66 The fool
of my own wishes, and forget
67 The solitude
which I have vaunted so
68 Has lost
its praise in this but one regret;
69 There may
be others which I less may show;
70 I am not
of the plaintive mood, and yet
71 I feel an
ebb in my philosophy,
72 And the tide
rising in my alter'd eye.
73 I did remind
thee of our own dear Lake,
74 By the old
Hall which may be mine no more.
75 Leman's is
fair; but think not I forsake
76 The sweet
remembrance of a dearer shore:
77 Sad havoc
Time must with my memory make
78 Ere that
or thou can fade these eyes before;
79 Though, like
all things which I have lov'd, they are
80 Resign'd
for ever, or divided far.
81 The world
is all before me; I but ask
82 Of Nature
that with which she will comply--
83 It is but
in her summer's sun to bask,
84 To mingle
with the quiet of her sky,
85 To see her
gentle face without a mask,
86 And never
gaze on it with apathy.
87 She was my
early friend, and now shall be
88 My sister--till
I look again on thee.
89 I can reduce
all feelings but this one;
90 And that
I would not; for at length I see
91 Such scenes
as those wherein my life begun,
92 The earliest--even
the only paths for me--
93 Had I but
sooner learnt the crowd to shun,
94 I had been
better than I now can be;
95 The passions
which have torn me would have slept;
96 I had not
suffer'd, and thou hadst not wept.
97 With false
Ambition what had I to do?
98 Little with
Love, and least of all with Fame;
99 And yet they
came unsought, and with me grew,
100 And made
me all which they can make--a name,
101 Yet this
was not the end I did pursue;
102 Surely I
once beheld a nobler aim.
103 But all
is over--I am one the more
104 To baffled
millions which have gone before.
105 And for the
future, this world's future may
106 From me
demand but little of my care;
107 I have outliv'd
myself by many a day,
108 Having surviv'd
so many things that were;
109 My years
have been no slumber, but the prey
110 Of ceaseless
vigils; for I had the share
111 Of life
which might have fill'd a century,
112 Before its
fourth in time had pass'd me by.
113 And for the
remnant which may be to come
114 I am content;
and for the past I feel
115 Not thankless,
for within the crowded sum
116 Of struggles,
happiness at times would steal,
117 And for
the present, I would not benumb
118 My feelings
further. Nor shall I conceal
119 That with
all this I still can look around,
120 And worship
Nature with a thought profound.
121 For thee,
my own sweet sister, in thy heart
122 I know myself
secure, as thou in mine;
123 We were
and are--I am, even as thou art--
124 Beings who
ne'er each other can resign;
125 It is the
same, together or apart,
126 From life's
commencement to its slow decline
127 We are entwin'd--let
death come slow or fast,
128 The tie
which bound the first endures the last!