Indian melodies :: :: University of Virginia Library

LOVE.

[Why heaves my breast with troubled sighs]

Why heaves my breast with troubled sighs,
Foreboding ills which may not rise?
Dark clouds may rise, but sink again,
And a much brighter sky remain.
Oh aid, ye spirits—ye clouds, depart!
Or Zhayba, give me back my heart.

Long had my sky been clear and blue,
As in my dreams I used to view.
Lightsome I rose with heart as free,
As they that flit from tree to tree.
Like you, sweet warblers, I could sing
When newly pair'd in early spring.
Oh aid, ye spirits—ye clouds, depart,
Or Zhayba, give me back my heart.

My path was deck'd with flowers sweet,
Refresh'd with dew to bear the heat—
The heat of yonder glorious ball,
That lights and warms and gladdens all.
Oh aid, ye spirits—ye clouds, depart,
Or Zhayba, give me back my heart.

Alas, my sunny days are past,
My sky is black and overcast,
My path is chok'd with thorns and reeds,
My pleasant flow'rs transform'd to weeds,

I'm cross'd by wile, or Moneto,
And all my dreams are dreams of woe.
Oh aid, ye spirits—ye clouds, depart,
Or Zhayba, give me back my heart.

No longer can my heart respond
To notes, of which 'twas once so fond,
No more its throbs a pleasure bring,
A joy I knew, but cannot sing.
Nor can I rove with step so light
Among the flow'rets with delight;
For love, alas, has chang'd the scene,
I only know such joys have been.
Oh aid, ye spirits—ye clouds, depart,
Or Zhayba, give me back my heart.

I seek the lone, sequestered spot,
The silver shore—the shady grot,
But ah, how vain my footsteps rove,
How vain to find a cure for love.
Oh aid, ye spirits ... ye clouds, depart,
Or Zhayba, give me back my heart.

These lines were sketched by a Lady, and retouched, with additional lines, by the author of this little collection.

[Sweetheart, dost thou think of me]

Sweetheart, dost thou think of me,
When beneath the forest tree?
Dost thou, in the passing wind,
Catch the sighs I've cast behind?
Ah, I fear ... I fear ... I fear,
Evil bird hath fill'd thine ear.

Sweetheart, in the clear blue sky,
Canst thou read my constancy,
Or, in whispering branches near,
Aught from thy true lover hear?
Ah, I fear ... I fear ... I fear,
Evil bird hath fill'd thine ear.

[Ah, when remembrance brings to mind]

Ah, when remembrance brings to mind
The youth as brave as he was kind,
Love, hope, and joy alternate start,
And wake a transport in my heart.
Oh, the bitterness of mind,
To be loved and left behind.

And when he bade the sad adieu,
He said, “My love, I'll go with you!”
“I'll go with you!” my heart replied,
But on my tongue the answer died.
Oh, the bitterness of, &c.

The kiss he gave ... the look so kind,
He cast when leaving me behind,
I'll ne'er forget ... oh grief may kill,
Brave youth! but I shall love thee still.
Oh, the bitterness, &c.

[My love is a hunter ... he hunts the fleet deer]

My love is a hunter ... he hunts the fleet deer,
With fusil or arrow, one half of the year;
He hunts the fleet deer, over mountain and lea,
But his heart is still panting for love and for me.
Oh, blest is the wood-nymph, reclin'd at her ease,
As she thinks on her love in her bower of trees.

My love is a warrior—when warriors go,
With fusil or arrow to strike the bold foe,
He treads the bright war-path with step bold and free,
But still his thoughts wander to love and to me.
Oh blest, &c.

But hunter or warrior—where'er he may go,
To track the fleet reindeer, or follow the foe;
His heart's warm desire, field and forest still flee,
To go hunting his love, and make captive of me.
Oh blest. &c.