Psyche, and other poems — page 161: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

143 | Fond youth! whom Fate hath summoned to depart, And quit the object of thy tenderest love, _ How oft in absence shall thy pensive heart Count the sad hours which must in exile move, And still their irksome weariness reprove ; Distance with cruel weight but loads thy chain With every step which bids thee farther rove, While thy reverted eye, with fruitless pain, Shall seek the trodden path its treasure to regain. Yor thee what rapturous moments are prepared ! For thee shall dawn the long expected day! And he who ne’er thy tender woes hath shared, Hath never known the transport they shall pay, To wash the memory of those woes away : The bitter tears of absence thou must shed, ‘To know the bliss which tears of joy convey, When the long hours of sad regret are fled, And in one dear embrace thy pains compensated! | Even from afar beheld, how eagerly With rapture thou shalt hail the loved abode ! Perhaps already, with impatient eye, From the dear casement she hath marked thy road, And many a sigh for thy return bestowed : Even there she meets thy fond enamoured glance : Thy soul with grateful tenderness o’erflowed, Which firmly bore the hand of hard mischance, Faints in the stronger power of joy’s o’erwhelming trance. \ cComicloooks.comnn