127. EBB to Mary Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 1, 122–123.
Ode
To my dearest Mama on her birthday
Hope End May 1st 1821 [1]
The Minstrel of the sacred lyre
Retired beneath the sombre shade–
Those softly sighing tones expire,
The Minstrel’s breathing harp had made!
Gently among her hallowed strings
Untaught the roaming zephyrs sigh.–
The musical gale harmonious sings
In sweet toned melody … to die!!–
For sickness oer the Minstrels brow
Had cast a light and transient shade–!
But ah! what untaught Spirit now
Breathes within the sacred glade?–
So gently, and so sweetly flying––
Then floating on the desart air—
As Music when the Swan is dying
Swells in her throat, and lingers there!
“Awake”! it said or seemed to say—
“Minstrel awake,! thy pains [2] forego!
Oh hail the harbinger of May,
And bid the splendid cadence flow”–
Yes! Not in vain the Spirit spoke,
My Mother, truly, fondly loved!
For on the lyre wild Music broke,
And all this hearts affection proved!!!–
And wilt thou then these simple lines approve?
Oh! if thou wilt, my labours are beguiled!
Then sweetly smile with kind parental love
And gently bless the efforts of thy child!!.
I seek not laurels! oh! I seek not fame!
Unenvied let the trophic glories blaze!
Affection lingers on a Mothers Name,
And only supplicates a Mothers praise!!–
My dearest Mama’s
Own affectionate Ba—
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library.
1. Her 40th.
2. This word is written above “cares.” The latter, not crossed out, is underscored four times.
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