# Poems of Felicia Hemans in The Amulet, 1832/The Death Song of Alcestis

Pages 39-42
THE DEATH-SONG OF ALCESTIS.
BY MRS. HEMANS.
"———Mightier far
Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway
Of Magic, potent over sun and star,
Is Love, though oft to agony oppress'd,
And though his favourite throne be feeble woman's breast."
WORDSWORTH.
She came forth, in her bridal robes arrayed,
And, midst the graceful statues round the hall
Shedding the calm of their celestial mien,
Stood pale, yet proudly beautiful as they:
Flowers in her bosom, and the star-like gleam
Of jewels trembling midst her braided hair—
And death upon her brow! But glorious death!
Her own heart's choice—the token and the seal
Of love—o'ermastering love, which, till that hour,
Almost an anguish in the brooding weight
Of its unutterable tenderness,
Had burdened her full soul. But now—oh! now
Its time was come!—and, from the spirit's depths,
The passion and the mighty melody
Of its immortal voice in triumph broke,
Like a strong rushing wind.
The soft pure air
Came floating through that hall—the Grecian air,
Laden with music—flute-notes from the vales,
Echoes of song, the last sweet sounds of life;
And the glad sunshine of the golden clime
Streamed, as a royal mantle, round her form,
The glorified of love! But she—she looked
Only on Him for whom 'twas joy to die—
Deep, deepest, holiest joy! Or if a thought
Of the warm sunlight, and the glowing air,
And the sweet Dorian songs, o'erswept the tide
Of her unswerving soul; 'twas but a thought
That owned the summer loveliness of life
For Him a worthy offering! So she stood,
Wrapt in bright silence, as entranced awhile,
Till her eye kindled, and her quivering frame
With the swift breeze of inspiration shook,
As the pale priestess trembles to the breath
Of inborn oracles; then flushed her cheek,
And all the triumph, all the agony,
Borne on the battling waves of love and death,
All from her woman's heart, in sudden song,
Burst like a fount of fire!—"I go! I go!
 "Thou sun—thou golden sun! I go,
 Far from thy light to dwell;
 Thou wilt not find my place below;
Dim is that world:—bright sun of Greece! farewell!
"The laurel and the glorious rose
 Thy glad beam yet may see;
 But where no purple summer glows,
O'er the dark wave, I haste from them and thee!
 "Yet, doth my spirit faint to part?
 —I mourn thee not, O sun!
 Joy, solemn joy, o'erflows my heart,
Sing me triumphal songs!—My crown is won!
 "Let not a voice of weeping rise;
 My breast is girt with power;
 Let the green earth and festal skies
Laugh, as to grace a conqueror's closing hour!
 "For thee, for thee!—my bosom's lord!
 Thee, my soul's loved, I die!
 Thine is the torch of life restored,
Mine, mine, the rapture!—mine the victory!
 "Now may the boundless love, that lay
 Unfathomed still before,
 In one consuming burst, find way,
In one bright flood, all, all its riches pour!
 "Thou know'st, thou know'st what love is now,
 Its glory and its might!
 Are they not written on my brow?
And will that image ever quit thy sight?
"No! deathless, in thy faithful breast,
 There shall my memory keep
 Its own bright altar-place of rest,
While o'er my grave the cypress-branches weep.
 "Oh! the glad light!—the light is fair,
 The soft breeze pure and free,
 And rich notes fill the scented air,
And all are gifts—my love's last gifts to thee!
 "Take me to thy warm heart once more!—
 Night falls; my pulse beats low;
 Seek not to quicken—to restore—
Joy is in every pang—I go! I go!
 "I feel thy tears, I feel thy breath,
 I meet thy fond look still;
 Keen is the strife of love and death!
Faint and yet fainter grows my bosom's thrill!
 "Yet swells the tide of rapture strong,
 Though mists o'ershade mine eye;
 Sing Pæan!—sing a conqueror's song!
For thee, for thee, my spirit's lord, I die!"