Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PARTED AND MET, by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PARTED AND MET, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I know not, whether such great power
Last Line: By that high suffering!
Alternate Author Name(s): Houghton, 1st Baron; Houghton, Lord
Subject(s): Farewell; Parting


I.

I KNOW not, whether such great power
Is in despair, -- it may be so, --
But, Myrrha, ere this ebbing hour
Is over, I will try to go:
Once more the glory of your form
Shall fall upon my path, -- once more!
And fear not lest the inner storm
Should burst the bounds it kept before.

I have one last, light boon to pray --
Do not be mercilessly kind;
Hold back your hand, and turn away
Those splendours I must leave behind;
Or arm your eyes with chilly glare,
(Though wont to be so burning-bright)
Like their far sisters of the air,
Which light, but cannot warm, the night.

But most of all, I could not bear
From you that mocking word, "Farewell!" --
How well my riven heart will fare,
I think I have not now to tell.
Be silent, passionless -- the ghost
Of your own self -- a solemn shade,
Whose form, to others wholly lost,
In my deep soul, as in a grave, is laid.

II.

My spirit staggered at the sight,
So painful and so strange,
I could not think that years had might
To work such fearful change;
And ere I ceased from wondering,
My tears fell fast and free,
That wretched, stricken, hopeless thing, --
I dared not call it Thee.

If I had heard that thou wert dead,
I hastily had cried,
"She was so richly favoured,
God must forgive her pride;
My heart lay withered, while the crown
Of life was fresh upon her, --
I linger still, she has gone down
In beauty and in honour."

But now, to see thy living death, --
Power, glory, arts, all gone, --
Thy empire lost, and thy poor breath
Still vainly struggling on!
Alas! a thought of saddest weight
Presses and will have vent:
"Had she not scorned my love, -- her fate
Had been so different!

"Had her heart bent its haughty will
To take me for its lord,
She had been proudly happy still,
Still honoured, still adored;
The weak love-ties of face and frame
Time easily may sever,
But I had thought her still the same,
As beautiful as ever.

"She had then felt no shame or sorrow,
At seeing fall away
The slaves who mock the god to-morrow,
They worshipped all to-day;
While I preserved, with honest truth,
Through every varying stage,
Her image which adorned my youth,
To glorify my age."

And do not treat this thought as light,
Nor ask with taunting sign,
"Has then thy life-course been so bright
That thou canst scorn at mine?"
Myrrha, -- the name of Misery
Is clear upon my brow,
Yet am I not, nor e'er can be,
So lorn a thing as Thou.

He, who for Love has undergone
The worst that can befall,
Is happier thousand-fold than one
Who never loved at all;
A grace within his soul has reigned,
Which nothing else can bring --
Thank God for all that I have gained,
By that high suffering!





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