Idyls and Songs by Francis Turner Palgrave: 1848-1854 |
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| XII. |
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| XV. |
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| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
 | XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. | XXXII.
MARY AT LOCHLEVEN. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
| LXXII. |
| LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXII. |
 | Idyls and Songs |  |
80
XXXII. MARY AT LOCHLEVEN.
O'er the rippled Lochleven, each morning and even,
Eastward and westward the glancing rays play;
Oft 'twixt waking and dreaming I see the path gleaming
Sunpaved in glory to guide me away.
Eastward and westward the glancing rays play;
Oft 'twixt waking and dreaming I see the path gleaming
Sunpaved in glory to guide me away.
Clear and free thro'the morning, in notes of gay scorning,
High o'er my dungeon the lark trills her lay:
Her downward way winging, the voice of her singing
Wakes the lone silence with ‘Hence and away.’
High o'er my dungeon the lark trills her lay:
Her downward way winging, the voice of her singing
Wakes the lone silence with ‘Hence and away.’
And, hark! shrill and taunting the trumpet-tones flaunting
Swell from the shallop that sleeps on the bay;
Love, Youth, and Pleasure there quaff their full measure,
Then glide, soft embracing, at even away.
Swell from the shallop that sleeps on the bay;
Love, Youth, and Pleasure there quaff their full measure,
Then glide, soft embracing, at even away.
But I sit aweary and lonesome and dreary,
Weary of sunlight and weary of day:
Rise, Star of Even, o'er silver Lochleven;
Bring back the thoughts of the years fled away.
Weary of sunlight and weary of day:
Rise, Star of Even, o'er silver Lochleven;
Bring back the thoughts of the years fled away.
Bring back the brightness, the freedom and lightness,
Bring back my childhood so blithesome and gay:
Fair France and her bowers, her spring-lavish'd flowers,
The long trellis'd vines on the hills far away.
Bring back my childhood so blithesome and gay:
Fair France and her bowers, her spring-lavish'd flowers,
The long trellis'd vines on the hills far away.
81
—Low night-winds breathing the smoke-curls are wreathing
That 'neath my cage from the lowly roofs stray;
All things are creeping to silence and sleeping;
My soul is sleepless in wanderings away.
That 'neath my cage from the lowly roofs stray;
All things are creeping to silence and sleeping;
My soul is sleepless in wanderings away.
Ah! could I slumber no more to know cumber,
Sorrow and fear thro' the long weary day:
Know no awaking when red dawn is breaking,
But rest me in peace in the home far away.
Sorrow and fear thro' the long weary day:
Know no awaking when red dawn is breaking,
But rest me in peace in the home far away.
| Idyls and Songs | |