Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | ||
371
BALLAD.—'TWAS ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS.
'Twas on a night like this, dear maid—
The memory serves us well—
With trembling hearts our footsteps strayed,
Adown this very dell;
The skies above, as now, were clear,
The moon as brightly shone;
Thine eye was bright, thy cheek was fair,
How could I but be won?
The memory serves us well—
With trembling hearts our footsteps strayed,
Adown this very dell;
The skies above, as now, were clear,
The moon as brightly shone;
Thine eye was bright, thy cheek was fair,
How could I but be won?
And not a murmur broke the charm
That night had woven then;
And thou, though touch'd with soft alarm,
Went with me down the glen;
The brooklet lapsed along in light,
Yet sang where no one sees;
And with its melody of night,
The zephyr swept the trees.
That night had woven then;
And thou, though touch'd with soft alarm,
Went with me down the glen;
The brooklet lapsed along in light,
Yet sang where no one sees;
And with its melody of night,
The zephyr swept the trees.
Oh! I remember all, as well
As if 'twere yesterday;
The same soft light, and breezy spell,
And magical array;
Thou wast the idol of the grove,
And yon the temple's shrine,
No wonder that I grew to love,
While haply waking thine:
As if 'twere yesterday;
The same soft light, and breezy spell,
And magical array;
Thou wast the idol of the grove,
And yon the temple's shrine,
No wonder that I grew to love,
While haply waking thine:
And, all unconscious, straight poured forth
My passion's eloquence;
And felt, without a thought, the birth
Of bliss in every sense;
I know not what I look'd or spoke,
In that delirium wild,
But well remember, ere I woke,
Thy sweet eyes wept and smiled.
My passion's eloquence;
And felt, without a thought, the birth
Of bliss in every sense;
372
In that delirium wild,
But well remember, ere I woke,
Thy sweet eyes wept and smiled.
They wept and smiled with conscious power,
And conscious joy, I ween,
And sacred did we feel the hour,
That gave us such a scene;
And still we watch that maiden star,
That shines for all who love—
Still feel the spells that won us far
Adown this sacred grove!
And conscious joy, I ween,
And sacred did we feel the hour,
That gave us such a scene;
And still we watch that maiden star,
That shines for all who love—
Still feel the spells that won us far
Adown this sacred grove!
Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | ||