Verse · 1808

To the Memory of Mrs. Lefroy

Original-language edition. This is the complete public-domain source text in the language it was written — not a translation. Only the glossary, cross-references, and editorial notes are Hermitsh Press’s apparatus.

Headnote

Austen’s most serious surviving poem: eleven stanzas written on her birthday in 1808, four years to the day after Mrs. Anne Lefroy of Ashe — the neighbour who had been ’friend and ornament of human kind’ to the young Austen — was killed in a fall from her horse. First printed in the 1871 Memoir, whose stanza numbering is kept.

1.
The day returns again, my natal day;
What mix’d emotions in my mind arise!
Beloved Friend; four years have passed away
Since thou wert snatched for ever from our eyes.
2.
The day commemorative of my birth,
Bestowing life, and light, and hope to me,
Brings back the hour which was thy last on earth.
O! bitter pang of torturing memory!
3.
Angelic woman! past my power to praise
In language meet thy talents, temper, mind,
Thy solid worth, thy captivating grace,
Thou friend and ornament of human kind.
4.
But come, fond Fancy, thou indulgent power;
Hope is desponding, chill, severe, to thee:
Bless thou this little portion of an hour;
Let me behold her as she used to be.
5.
I see her here with all her smiles benign,
Her looks of eager love, her accents sweet,
That voice and countenance almost divine,
Expression, harmony, alike complete.
6.
Listen! It is not sound alone, ’tis sense,
’Tis genius, taste, and tenderness of soul:
’Tis genuine warmth of heart without pretence,
And purity of mind that crowns the whole.
7.
She speaks! ’Tis eloquence, that grace of tongue,
So rare, so lovely, never misapplied
By her, to palliate vice, or deck a wrong:
She speaks and argues but on virtue’s side.
8.
Hers is the energy of soul sincere;
Her Christian spirit, ignorant to feign,
Seeks but to comfort, heal, enlighten, cheer,
Confer a pleasure or prevent a pain.
9.
Can aught enhance such goodness? yes, to me
Her partial favour from my earliest years
Consummates all: ah! give me but to see
Her smile of love! The vision disappears.
10.
’Tis past and gone. We meet no more below,
Short is the cheat of Fancy o’er the tomb.
Oh! might I hope to equal bliss to go,
To meet thee, angel, in thy future home.
11.
Fain would I feel an union with thy fate:
Fain would I seek to draw an omen fair
From this connection in our earthly date.
Indulge the harmless weakness. Reason, spare.

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To the Memory of Mrs. Lefroy

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