 | [O'er the Seas, in] Half hours with the poets |  |
301
O'er the Seas.
Faint streams the shimmer of the moon
Through yonder lattice pane;
The quiet of the night enfolds
My mourning soul again.
Deep shadows from the hills depend,
And fall from yonder trees:—
How turns my heart from these to thee,
Fair lady, o'er the seas!
Through yonder lattice pane;
The quiet of the night enfolds
My mourning soul again.
Deep shadows from the hills depend,
And fall from yonder trees:—
How turns my heart from these to thee,
Fair lady, o'er the seas!
I own no land, I hold no rank,
I labour for my bread;
These hands of mine are hard with toil,
And heavy falls my tread.
Were I to speak my thoughts, thy frown
My bold desires would freeze;
And yet I turn from toil to thee,
Fair lady, o'er the seas.
I labour for my bread;
These hands of mine are hard with toil,
And heavy falls my tread.
Were I to speak my thoughts, thy frown
My bold desires would freeze;
And yet I turn from toil to thee,
Fair lady, o'er the seas.
The troubadours of old could sing
How strove, and not in vain,
A serf, by deeds of high emprise,
A demoiselle to gain.
The age is one which does not know
Such idle tales as these,
Yet still I turn with hope to thee,
Fair lady, o'er the seas.
How strove, and not in vain,
A serf, by deeds of high emprise,
A demoiselle to gain.
302
Such idle tales as these,
Yet still I turn with hope to thee,
Fair lady, o'er the seas.
The moon is down, and all is dark;
The clouds are o'er the skies;
Sleep falls on other things around,
But shuns these wakeful eyes.
Through darkness ever so profound
The eye of memory sees;
From gloom my spirit turns to thee,
Fair lady, o'er the seas.
The clouds are o'er the skies;
Sleep falls on other things around,
But shuns these wakeful eyes.
Through darkness ever so profound
The eye of memory sees;
From gloom my spirit turns to thee,
Fair lady, o'er the seas.
Light let the breezes waft the barque
Wherein my darling sails;
Smile over her the bluest skies,
Blow round her spicy gales.
Bring back my love to walk again
Beneath the oaken trees;
Come back! from other lands, come back,
Fair lady, o'er the seas!
Wherein my darling sails;
Smile over her the bluest skies,
Blow round her spicy gales.
Bring back my love to walk again
Beneath the oaken trees;
Come back! from other lands, come back,
Fair lady, o'er the seas!
| [O'er the Seas, in] Half hours with the poets | |