 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
149
I SEEK TO SING OF GLORY.
I seek to sing of Glory,
And, for my deathless name,
To win from future story
A high and holy fame!
I strike the faithful lyre
The high design to prove,
But, ah! the sounds expire,
And Glory yields to Love!
Ah, Love! wherefore Love,
When the soul would soar above!
And, for my deathless name,
To win from future story
A high and holy fame!
I strike the faithful lyre
The high design to prove,
But, ah! the sounds expire,
And Glory yields to Love!
Ah, Love! wherefore Love,
When the soul would soar above!
In vain I turn the pages
Of sad and sacred lore;
And still, through buried ages,
Dread, solemn truth explore:
Alas! through all the ashes
Of ancient years, arise
The soft, but piercing flashes
From Love's triumphant eyes!
Ah, Love! look not thus,
Or no glory shines for us!
Of sad and sacred lore;
And still, through buried ages,
Dread, solemn truth explore:
Alas! through all the ashes
Of ancient years, arise
The soft, but piercing flashes
From Love's triumphant eyes!
Ah, Love! look not thus,
Or no glory shines for us!
I turn'd me to the sages
For wisdom, to arrest
The wild, consuming rages
Of passion, in my breast:
But they, with eyes of sorrow,
Did each lay bare his own,
And lo! still ruling thorough,
Love sate as on a throne!
Ah! ruling every where the same,
He leaves to Glory but a name!
For wisdom, to arrest
The wild, consuming rages
Of passion, in my breast:
But they, with eyes of sorrow,
Did each lay bare his own,
And lo! still ruling thorough,
Love sate as on a throne!
Ah! ruling every where the same,
He leaves to Glory but a name!
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |