Constitutional Whig

From the last No. of the 7th vol. of the N. York Mirror.

THE RELENTLESS WORLD.

"Di mondo ril hutano lu berra."

Pass on, relentless world,
With all thy chilly pageantry and noise,
Pass on, and plume, and banner-sheet unfurled—
I envy not thy joys:
For thoughts that pierce the brain,
On that dark brow are registered in guilt;
And thy poor heart is wrung with many a pain
Smile, maniac, as thou wilt.
Thou of the eagle eye,
In the red chariot of conquest drawn,
Curs'd by the widow's and the orphan's sigh—
Pass on thy triumphing on;
Yet know, in this high day
Of exaltation and of victory,
There be, who sighing mark thy proud array
Here, they pity thee.
Thou of the noble born,
Tir'd or crown'd, who careless look'st on me,
Pass on—I may forgive that glance of scorn,
But never envy thee:
For though the gilded robe
Wraps thee in hues as bright as evening's sky
And thy proud sceptre awes the out-spread globe,
Death shall not pass thee by.
Fairest and frailest flower,
Beauty! that blest in thy heavenly birth,
Ruling all spirits with a nameless power,
Pass on; high queen of earth:
Yet at no far off day
Shall fade the glory of that seraphim form,
And on the richness of its honour'd clay
Shall feed the darkling worm.
And thou, whose iron doors
Has ne'er opened to the sufferer's cry,
Whose path to wealth was o'er the friendless poor
Untouched by misery's sigh—
With all thy millions sped,
Heartless and haughty, in thy course along
Justice hath yet in store the righteous meed
Of thy unblushing wrong.
Thou too, that hop'st to send
Thy name throughout the future's farthest years,
Reckless of influence and example, and
The hydra's conscience rears—
Pass on—albeit the gloom
Of dim oblivion shall o'ershadow thee.
And voiceless as the never-whispering tomb.
Thy memory shall be.
Traitor to friend true
Who feign'st smiled through fortune's sunshine day
But when thy friend was stricken to the dust
Turned from his woes away
Pass on, dishonoured one,
The deepening shame, thy baseness go with thee
There are dark spots upon the glorious sun
Couldst thou on earth be more free?
And thou whose every thought
Pondered the ruin of creation's pride,
Woman, for whom the high in heart have fought—
For whom the good have died—
Who when her love was won,
Didst spurn it for the wanton and the wine
Pass on—I may not speak thy malison,
For vengeance is not mine.
But ye—to whom remain
Unsullied honor, and unswerving truth,
Faith, meekness, charity with her bright train—
Virtue's immortal youth—
Whose love for human kind,
Like the pure heavens, is boundless and serene
Whose alms are like the ever-restless wind.
Refreshing yet unseen;
And ye—o'er whom the call
Of wealth, rank, fame and glory has no sway
Faithful, and just, and kind, in hut or hall
Oh, pass not thus away!
For sure it is unmeet
That ye, who form life's beauty and its worth,
Mingling its bitter cup with many a sweet—
Should ever pass from earth!

ARION.