The Poetical Remains of the late Dr. John Leyden with Memoirs of his Life, by the Rev. James Morton |
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A LOVE TALE.
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 | The Poetical Remains of the late Dr. John Leyden |  |
152
A LOVE TALE.
A FRAGMENT.
The glance of my love is mild and fair
Whene'er she looks on me;
As the silver beams, in the midnight air,
Of the gentle moon; and her yellow hair
On the gale floats wild and free.
Whene'er she looks on me;
As the silver beams, in the midnight air,
Of the gentle moon; and her yellow hair
On the gale floats wild and free.
Her yellow locks flow o'er her back,
And round her forehead twine;
I would not give the tresses that deck
The blue lines of her snowy neck,
For the richest Indian mine.
And round her forehead twine;
I would not give the tresses that deck
The blue lines of her snowy neck,
For the richest Indian mine.
153
Her gentle face is of lily hue;
But whene'er her eye meets mine,
The mantling blush on her cheek you view
Is like the rose-bud wet with dew,
When the morning sun-beams shine.
But whene'er her eye meets mine,
The mantling blush on her cheek you view
Is like the rose-bud wet with dew,
When the morning sun-beams shine.
“Why heaves your breast with the smother'd sigh?
“My dear love tell me true!
“Why does your colour come and fly,
“And why, oh why is the tear in your eye?
“I ne'er lov'd maid but you.
“My dear love tell me true!
“Why does your colour come and fly,
“And why, oh why is the tear in your eye?
“I ne'er lov'd maid but you.
“True I must leave Zeania's dome,
“And wander o'er ocean-sea;
“But yet, though far my footsteps roam,
“My soul shall linger round thy home,
“I'll love thee though thou love not me.”
“And wander o'er ocean-sea;
“But yet, though far my footsteps roam,
“My soul shall linger round thy home,
“I'll love thee though thou love not me.”
She dried the tear with her yellow hair,
And rais'd her watery eye,
Like the sun with radiance soft and fair,
That gleams thro' the moist and showery air
When the white clouds fleck the sky.
And rais'd her watery eye,
Like the sun with radiance soft and fair,
That gleams thro' the moist and showery air
When the white clouds fleck the sky.
154
She rais'd her eye with a feeble smile,
That through the tear-drops shone:
Her look might the hardest heart beguile,—
She sigh'd, as she press'd my hand the while,
“Alas! my brother John.
That through the tear-drops shone:
Her look might the hardest heart beguile,—
She sigh'd, as she press'd my hand the while,
“Alas! my brother John.
“Ah me! I lov'd my brother well
“Till he went o'er the sea;—
“And none till now could ever tell
“If joy or woe to the youth befel;
“But he will not return to me.”
“Till he went o'er the sea;—
“And none till now could ever tell
“If joy or woe to the youth befel;
“But he will not return to me.”
| The Poetical Remains of the late Dr. John Leyden | |