To a Neighbour

For whom these festal luxuries
On Neva’s foaming banks--for whom?
‘Neath intertwining, shadowing trees,
Where all is flowers, and fruits, and bloom;
Gay Persian tents emboss’d in gold,
And China vases manifold;
And sparkling glass from Austria sent;--
For whom--for what? O why abuse
Fortune? Why dissipate and lose
Gifts, which at best are only lent?

The song is heard--the chorus blends
Its louder tones;--’neath pines up-piled
And fruits, the wearied table bends;
And sweets--O silly, spendthrift child!
The senses are all feasted:--Maids
Pour forth the grape-juice--see, it spreads--
The world contributes: ancient Rhine,
Champagne, and Xeres, mingling come;
And British streams, and streams from home,
And Selzerswave and Moselle wine.

In a cool grot, whose fountains flow
Round alabaster piles and busts,
Stretch’d on a bed where roses grow,
The slave of thy unholy lusts,
Thou liest: a maiden, bright and fair,
And young, reposes near thee there--
A nymph with laughter in her eye:--
She sings--thou sinkest on her breast,
And, strangely wilder’d, thou hast prest
Her hand, in ecstasy of joy.

Thou sleepest--and thy dreams foretel
An everlasting heaven of bliss:
Its flowery buds around thee swell
With blossoms bright and blest as this.
Thou hast thy treasures, hast thy fields;
For thee Siberia’s bosom yields
Of countless wealth a rich display:
Thee, a proud stream of silver meets:--
O blessed! whom the morrow greets
As happy as the yesterday.

O blessed! in life’s vale below,
Who sees unmoved this shifting scene--
Who, though the mighty storm-winds blow,
But hears their rage, and is serene.
The thunder-clouds may o’er him roar,
The waves may spring the mountains o’er,
Scattering the sand and foam--’tis nought
To him--the torn and scatter’d wood
May leave a desert solitude--
He sits in calm and quiet thought.

Ours are but foolish wishes--change,
Change is the meteor we pursue:
When nought is wanting, then we range
And gasp, and grasp at something new.
The time of sorrow comes--thy maid
Betrays thee as she has betray’d
Other admirers--then the song--
Ay! all this noisy song will cease,
And thou be left to think in peace--
In sadness----Sorrow’s day is long.

Look! even now her eyes are darting
Less beams of love, of revelry.
Hark! from yon gathering clouds is starting
A fearful storm--thy ship’s at sea.--
No! no!--while all seems fair and bright,
O dream not thou of sorrow’s night!
Feast, neighbour, feast--and dance and sing--
Life’s sun has but a summer’s glow,
And joy is innocent--but know,
’Tis but that joy which bears no sting.