The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
 | I, II. |
|
RINGS AND SEALS. |
 |
| III, IV. |
| V. |
| VI, VII. |
| VIII, IX. |
| X. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
154
RINGS AND SEALS.
Ωσπερ σφραγιδες τα φιληματα.
Achilles Tatius, lib. ii.
“Go!” said the angry, weeping maid,
“The charm is broken!—once betray'd,
“Never can this wrong'd heart rely
“On word or look, on oath or sigh.
“Take back the gifts, so fondly given,
“With promis'd faith and vows to heaven;
“That little ring which, night and morn,
“With wedded truth my hand hath worn;
“That seal which oft, in moments blest,
“Thou hast upon my lip imprest,
“And sworn its sacred spring should be
“A fountain seal'd for only thee:
“Take, take them back, the gift and vow,
“All sullied, lost and hateful now!”
“The charm is broken!—once betray'd,
“Never can this wrong'd heart rely
“On word or look, on oath or sigh.
“Take back the gifts, so fondly given,
“With promis'd faith and vows to heaven;
“That little ring which, night and morn,
“With wedded truth my hand hath worn;
“That seal which oft, in moments blest,
“Thou hast upon my lip imprest,
“And sworn its sacred spring should be
“A fountain seal'd for only thee:
155
“All sullied, lost and hateful now!”
I took the ring—the seal I took,
While, oh, her every tear and look
Were such as angels look and shed,
When man is by the world misled.
Gently I whisper'd, “Fanny, dear!
“Not half thy lover's gifts are here:
“Say, where are all the kisses given,
“From morn to noon, from noon to even,—
“Those signets of true love, worth more
“Than Solomon's own seal of yore,—
“Where are those gifts, so sweet, so many?
“Come, dearest,—give back all, if any.”
While, oh, her every tear and look
Were such as angels look and shed,
When man is by the world misled.
Gently I whisper'd, “Fanny, dear!
“Not half thy lover's gifts are here:
“Say, where are all the kisses given,
“From morn to noon, from noon to even,—
“Those signets of true love, worth more
“Than Solomon's own seal of yore,—
“Where are those gifts, so sweet, so many?
“Come, dearest,—give back all, if any.”
While thus I whisper'd, trembling too,
Lest all the nymph had sworn was true,
I saw a smile relenting rise
'Mid the moist azure of her eyes,
Like daylight o'er a sea of blue,
While yet in mid-air hangs the dew.
She let her cheek repose on mine,
She let my arms around her twine;
One kiss was half allowed, and then—
The ring and seal were hers again.
Lest all the nymph had sworn was true,
I saw a smile relenting rise
'Mid the moist azure of her eyes,
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While yet in mid-air hangs the dew.
She let her cheek repose on mine,
She let my arms around her twine;
One kiss was half allowed, and then—
The ring and seal were hers again.
“There are gardens, supposed to be those of King Solomon, in the neighbourhood of Bethlehem. The friars show a fountain, which, they say, is the ‘sealed fountain’ to which the holy spouse in the Canticles is compared; and they pretend a tradition, that Solomon shut up these springs and put his signet upon the door, to keep them for his own drinking.” —Maundrell's Travels. See also the notes to Mr. Good's Translation of the Song of Solomon.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |