Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE ANCESTRAL SONG, by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE ANCESTRAL SONG, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: There were faint sounds of weeping
Last Line: She passed, as twilight melts to night, away!
Alternate Author Name(s): Browne, Felicia Dorothea
Subject(s): Death; Dead, The


THERE were faint sounds of weeping; -- fear and gloom
And midnight vigil in a stately room
Of Lusignan's old halls; -- rich odours there
Filled the proud chamber as with Indian air,
And soft light fell, from lamps of silver thrown,
On jewels that with rainbow lustre shone
Over a gorgeous couch: -- There emeralds gleamed,
And deeper crimson from the ruby streamed
Than in the heart-leaf of the rose is set
Hiding from sunshine. -- Many a carcanet
Starry with diamonds, many a burning chain
Of the red gold, sent forth a radiance wain,
And sad, and strange, the canopy beneath
Whose shadowy curtains, round a bed of death,
Hung drooping solemnly; -- for there one lay,
Passing from all Earth's glories fast away,
Amidst those queenly treasures: They had been
Gifts of her lord, from far-off Paynim lands,
And for his sake, upon their orient sheen
She had gazed fondly, and with faint, cold hands
Had pressed them to her languid heart once more,
Melting in childlike tears. But this was o'er --
Love's last vain clinging unto life; and now --
A mist of dreams was hovering o'er her brow,
Her eye was fixed, her spirit seemed removed,
Though not from Earth, from all it knew or loved,
Far, far away! her handmaids watched around,
In awe, that lent to each low midnight sound
A might, a mystery; and the quivering light
Of wind-swayed lamps, made spectral in their sight
The forms of buried beauty, sad, yet fair,
Gleaming along the walls with braided hair,
Long in the dust grown dim; and she, too, saw,
But with the spirit's eye of raptured awe,
Those pictured shapes! -- a bright, yet solemn train,
Beckoning, they floated o'er her dreamy brain,
Clothed in diviner hues; while on her ear
Strange voices fell, which none besides might hear,
Sweet, yet profoundly mournful, as the sigh
Of winds o'er harp-strings through a midnight sky;
And thus it seemed, in that low thrilling tone,
Th' ancestral shadows called away their own.

Come, come, come!
Long thy fainting soul hath yearned
For the step that ne'er returned;
Long thine anxious ear hath listened,
And thy watchful eye hath glistened
With the hope, whose parting strife
Shook the flower-leaves from thy life --
Now the heavy day is done,
Home awaits thee, wearied one!
Come, come, come.

From the quenchless thoughts that burn
In the sealed heart's lonely urn;
From the coil of memory's chain
Wound about the throbbing brain;
From the veins of sorrow deep,
Winding through the world of sleep;
From the haunted halls and bowers,
Thronged with ghosts of happier hours!
Come, come, come!

On our dim and distant shore
Aching love is felt no more!
We have loved with earth's excess --
Past is now that weariness!
We have wept, that weep not now --
Calm is each once beating brow!
We have known the dreamer's woes --
All is now one bright repose!
Come, come, come!

Weary heart that long hast bled,
Languid spirit, drooping head,
Restless memory, vain regret,
Pining love whose light is set,
Come away! -- 'tis hushed, 'tis well!
Where by shadowy founts we dwell,
All the fever-thirst is stilled,
All the air with peace is filled, --
Come, come, come!

And with her spirit rapt in that wild lay,
She passed, as twilight melts to night, away!





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