Poems by James Hyslop :: :: University of Virginia Library

My dark-eyed beauteous lov'd one! while the year
Returns again in happiness, while mirth
And wine, and love, and gladness, in the halls
Of pleasure's sons and daughters, hail its entry;
While forms like thine of youth and loveliness
Are floating thro' the dance to mirthful music,
And songs of sweetest melody, while the blush
Flushes 'mong beauty's ringlets, as her eye
Meets that of her beloved, wilt thou with me
Resign the love of revelry, and walk
Beside green Nithsdale's waters, where the woods,
Sleeping in frosty hoariness, look dark
In winter's yellow moonshine, then to talk
Of summers fled for ever, happy days
Never to be forgotten, when our hearts,
Strangers to love and to each other, met
Among the sunny woodlands?

My dark-eyed beauteous lov'd one! 'twas an hour
Of warm delicious feeling, when our eyes,
Impelled by sweet attraction, flew to meet
Each the new partner of its happiness,
In stolen looks of kindness, when each glance
Grew far more sweet and tender, till they lay
Reposing on each other in a bed
Of languid sleepy softness, and our souls
Grew drunk with sweetest pleasure, and came forth,
T' invite each other to the bower of love.

My dark-eyed beauteous lov'd one! think'st thou ever
Of those first sighs of happiness, when we,
Strangers who ne'er had spoken save in love's
Mute language, which our eyes had taught each other,
First met in July's evening, when the nightfall
Slept on the woods and waters, and the meadows,
Fresh in thick grass and wild flowers, mingled fragrance
With the green dewy corn-fields, and thy walk

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Was thro' this darkening scenery when I met thee
In youth's alluring loveliness—that hour
Full many a charm combined to make me love thee?
There was thy soft and shining auburn hair,
In many a silken ringlet loosely flowing,
Among the silk and cambric's airy folds,
Half-shading, half-revealing all those charms
Where lovers' drunken eyes delight to revel
'Midst am'rous loveliness, and sink to sleep,
Reposing on those sheets of snowy whiteness.

My dark-eyed beauteous lov'd one! many an art
Of playful youth and mirthful fascination,
Were thine in full perfection: had'st thou been
An artless maiden sickening in a fever
Of breathless sighs and dying languishment,
My soul had drunk too deep, and turn'd away
From love's delicious banquet; but thou wast
An hard and frugal mistress to young love,
Gave him no sweetmeats for a long, long time,
Nurs'd him upon such pure and healthy food
The little boy thought you meant to starve him;
And once or twice had thought to run away,
But you detain'd him, threw your soft white arm
Around his neck, patted upon his cheek,
And told him to be good; you would be kinder:
That, by and by, your lips and his should drink
The most delicious cup he ever tasted.

My dark-eyed beauteous lov'd one! all thy charms
Were heightened by that mild majestic air
Of queenly dignity, sitting enthroned,
The guardian of thy virtuous innocence,
Proclaiming that thy charms were all thine own,
Thou would'st resign them at thy sovereign pleasure
Unto the dear companion of thy heart
When thou had'st proved him worthy: 'twas a thought
To me of deeply cherished secret pleasure,
The sweetest chain that linked thee to my heart,
That thou, the loveliest of green Nithsdale's daughters,
Caress'd and courted by so many lovers,
Would'st leave them all to meet, under the moonlight,
Thy young beloved stranger, there to tell him,
By many a fond endearment, that you lov'd him,
Beside the shining waters to recline,

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Upon a bank where summer flowers were breathing,
And wanton with the tangles of his hair,
Twisting them round thy white and slender fingers,
In little soft dark love-locks, thou would'st smile,
And look into his eyes in silence, as he lay
Reclining on thy pure and innocent bosom;
And haply in some sweet unguarded moment,
When thy young heart with love was warmly glowing,
Beneath its silken covering thou would'st hide
Thy face upon his breast in laughing playfulness,
And blush that thou had'st done so; and would'st chide
Thy lover for dishevelling all thy ringlets,
With so much sweetness that he oft was tempted
To press those laughing lips that he might hear
Them quarrel more—they did it so delightfully.

Caetera desunt.