 | Young Arthur |  |
184
ALLAN'S SONG.
O, thou who wander'st here to weep,
Whose tears are as drops of pearly dew
Which from the fairest lilies creep,
Falling on rose of heavenly hue:
Whose sighs are like the zephyr's breath
Which sweetly wakes in beauty's grove
The Æolian lyre, with rosy wreath
Suspended there by artless love:
Thy tear and sigh are echoed here,
From humbler grief, by sigh and tear.
Whose tears are as drops of pearly dew
Which from the fairest lilies creep,
Falling on rose of heavenly hue:
Whose sighs are like the zephyr's breath
Which sweetly wakes in beauty's grove
The Æolian lyre, with rosy wreath
Suspended there by artless love:
Thy tear and sigh are echoed here,
From humbler grief, by sigh and tear.
Ah, dry those tears, suppress those sighs,
The eye of hope sees far away;
And there's an aspect in her skies
That tells a more celestial day:
O, there's a day-spring in the east,
And soon the night of grief shall fade;
And morning come, like a pardoning priest,
In the robe of mercy and peace array'd.
Thy tear and sigh are echoed here,
From humbler grief, by sigh and tear.
The eye of hope sees far away;
And there's an aspect in her skies
That tells a more celestial day:
O, there's a day-spring in the east,
And soon the night of grief shall fade;
And morning come, like a pardoning priest,
In the robe of mercy and peace array'd.
Thy tear and sigh are echoed here,
From humbler grief, by sigh and tear.
| Young Arthur | |