The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed :: :: University of Virginia Library

Lord Roland rose, and went to mass,
And doffer his mourning weed!
And bade them bring a looking-glass,
And saddle fast a steed;
“I'll deck with gems my bonnet's loop,
And wear a feather fine,
And when lorn lovers sit and droop
Why I will sit and dine!
Sing merrily, sing merrily,
And fill the cup of wine!

II

Though Elgitha be thus untrue,
Adèle is beauteous yet;
And he that's baffled by the blue
May bow before the jet;
So welcome—welcome hall or heath!
So welcome shower or shine!
And wither there, thou willow wreath,
Thou never shalt be mine!
Sing merrily, sing merrily,
And fill the cup of wine!

364

III

Proud Elgitha! a health to thee,—
A health in brimming gold!
And store of lovers after me,
As honest, and less cold:
My hand is on my bugle horn,
My boat is on the brine;
If ever gallant died of scorn,
I shall not die of thine!
Sing merrily, sing merrily!
And fill the cup of wine!

365

YES OR NO.

I

The Baron de Vaux hath a valiant crest,—
My Lady is fair and free;
The Baron is full of mirth and jest,—
My Lady is full of glee;
But their path, we know, is a path of woe,
And many the reason guess,—
The Baron will ever mutter “No,”
When my Lady whispers “Yes.”

II

The Baron will pass the wine-cup round,—
My Lady forth will roam;
The Baron will out with horse and hound,—
My Lady sits at home;
The Baron will go to draw the bow,—
My Lady will go to chess;
And the Baron will ever mutter “No,”
When my Lady whispers “Yes.”

366

III

The Baron hath ears for a lovely lay,
If my Lady sings it not;
The Baron is blind to a beauteous day,
If it beam in my Lady's grot;
The Baron bows low to a furbelow,
If it be not my Lady's dress;
And the Baron will ever mutter “No,”
When my Lady whispers “Yes.”

IV

Now saddle my steed, and helm my head,
Be ready in the porch;
Stout Guy, with a ladder of silken thread,
And trusty Will, with a torch:
The wind may blow, the torrent flow,—
No matter,—on we press;
I never can hear the Baron's “No”
When my Lady whispers “Yes.”

367

TELL HIM I LOVE HIM YET.

I

Tell him I love him yet,
As in that joyous time;
Tell him I ne'er forget,
Though memory now be crime;
Tell him, when sad moonlight
Is over earth and sea,
I dream of him by night,—
He must not dream of me!

II

Tell him to go where Fame
Looks proudly on the brave;
Tell him to win a name
By deeds on land and wave;
Green—green upon his brow
The laurel wreath shall be;
Although the laurel now
May not be shared with me.

368

III

Tell him to smile again
In Pleasure's dazzling throng,
To wear another's chain,
To praise another's song.
Before the loveliest there
I'd have him bend his knee,
And breathe to her the prayer
He used to breathe to me.

IV

And tell him, day by day
Life looks to me more dim;
I falter when I pray,
Although I pray for him.
And bid him, when I die,
Come to our favourite tree:
I shall not hear him sigh.—
Then let him sigh for me!

July 20, 1829.

369

WHERE IS MISS MYRTLE?

[_]

Air—“Sweet Kitty Clover.”

I

Where is Miss Myrtle? can any one tell?
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
She flirts with another, I know very well;
And I—am left all alone!
She flies to the window when Arundel rings,—
She's all over smiles when Lord Archibald sings,—
It's plain that her Cupid has two pair of wings:
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
Her love and my love are different things;
And I—am left all alone!

II

I brought her, one morning, a rose for her brow;
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
She told me such horrors were never worn now:
And I—am left all alone!
But I saw her at night with a rose in her hair,
And I guess who it came from—of course I don't care!

370

We all know that girls are as false as they're fair;
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
Pm sure the lieutenant's a horrible bear:
And I—am left all alone!

III

Whenever we go on the Downs for a ride,
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
She looks for another to trot by her side:
And I—am left all alone!
And whenever I take her downstairs from a ball,
She nods to some puppy to put on her shawl:
I'm a peaceable man, and I don't like a brawl;—
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
But I would give a trifle to horsewhip them all;
And I—am left all alone!

IV

She tells me her mother belongs to the sect,
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
Which holds that all waltzing is quite incorrect:
And I—am left all alone!
But a fire's in my heart, and a fire's in my brain,
When she waltzes away with Sir Phelim O'Shane;
I don't think I ever can ask her again:
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
And, Lord! since the summer she's grown very plain;
And I—am left all alone!

371

V

She said that she liked me a twelvemonth ago;
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
And how should I guess that she'd torture me so?
And I—am left all alone!
Some day she'll find out it was not very wise
To laugh at the breath of a true lover's sighs;
After all, Fanny Myrtle is not such a prize:
Where is she gone, where is she gone?—
Louisa Dalrymple has exquisite eyes;
And I'll be—no longer alone!

1831.

372

THE CONFESSION.

I

Father—Father—I confess—
Here he kneeled and sighed,
When the moon's soft loveliness
Slept on turf and tide.
In my ear the prayer he prayed
Seems to echo yet;
But the answer that I made—
Father—I forget!
Ora pro me!

II

Father—Father—I confess—
Precious gifts he brought;
Satin sandal, silken dress;
Richer ne'er were wrought;
Gems that make the daylight dim,
Plumes in gay gold set;—
But the gaud I gave to him—
Father—I forget!
Ora pro me!

372

III

Father—Father—I confess—
He's my beauty's thrall,
In the lonely wilderness,
In the festive hall;
All his dreams are aye of me,
Since our young hearts met:
What my own may sometimes pe—
Father—I forget:
Ora pro me!

374

LAST WORDS.

I

Fare thee well, love,—fare thee well?
From the world I pass away,
Where the brightest things that dwell
All deceive, and all decay;
Cheerfully I fall asleep,
As by some mysterious spell;
Yet I weep, to see thee weep;
Fare thee well, love,—fare thee well!

II

Tell of me, love, tell of me!
Not amid the heartless throng;
Not where Passion bends the knee,—
Not where Pleasure trills the song;
But when some most cherished one
By your side at eve shall be,
Ere your twilight tales are done,
Tell of me, love,—tell of me!

375

III

Leave me now, love,—leave me now!
Not with sorrow, not with sighs;
Not with clouds, love, on thy brow,
Not with tears, love, in thine eyes;
We shall meet, we know not where,
And be blest. we dream not how;
With a kiss, and with a prayer,
Leave me now, love,—leave me now!

April, 1832

376

THE RUNAWAY.

I

Dark clouds are shading
The day,—the day;
Sunlight is fading
Away,—away;
I've won from the warden
The key,—the key,
And the steed's in the garden
For me,—for me.

II

Locks of my mother
So white,—so white,—
Frowns of my father
Good night,—good night!
From turret and tower
I'm free,—I'm free,
And your rage has no power
O'er me,—o'er me.

377

III

Shriller is grieving
The blast,—the blast;
Lo, the waves heaving
At last,—at last!
'Twas here he, the bold one,
Should be,—should be;
And lingers he, cold one?
Ah me!—ah me!

IV

Vain is thy chiding,
For hark!—for hark!
Hither 'tis gliding
The hark,—the bark!
Joyously over
The sea—the sea
Shell waft my brave lover
With me,—with me!

April, 1832

378

LONG AGO.

I

We were children together! Oh brighter than mine
Are the eyes that are looking their love on you now;
And nobler than I are the maidens that twine
The scarf for your breast, and the wreath for your brow.
Be happy, my brother, wherever you will;
Good speed to your courser, good luck to your bow;
But will you not—will you not think of me still,
As you thought of me once,—long ago—long ago?

II

We were children together! I know you will dream
Of the rock and the valley, the cottage and tree,
Of the bird on the brake, of the boat on the stream,
Of the book and the lute, of my roses and me:
When Pleasure deceives you, and young Hope departs,
And the pulse of Ambition beats weary and low,
My brother—my brother—come back to our hearts;
Let us be what we were,—long ago—long ago!

August, 1832.

379

I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.

I

I remember—I remember
How my childhood fleeted by,—
The mirth of its December,
And the warmth of its July;
On my brow, love, on my brow, love,
There are no signs of care;
But my pleasures are not now, love,
What Childhood's pleasures were.

II

Then the bowers—then the bowers
Were blithe as blithe could be;
And all their radiant flowers
Were coronals for me:
Gems to-night, love—gems to-night, love,
Are gleaming in my hair;
But they are not half so bright, love,
As Childhood's roses were.

380

III

I was singing—I was singing,
And my songs were idle words;
But from my heart was springing
Wild music like a bird's:
Now I sing, love—now I sing, love,
A fine Italian air;
But it's not so glad a thing, love,
As Childhood's ballads were!

IV

I was merry—I was merry
When my little lovers came,
With a lily, or a cherry,
Or a new invented game;
Now I've you, love—now I've you, love,
To kneel before me there:
But you know you're not so true, love,
As Childhood's lovers were!

June, 1833.

381

SHADOWS OF SADNESS.

I

Shadows of sadness
Come o'er thy young bride;
They cloud all her giadness,
They calm all her pride;
A bright home I leave, love;
From dear friends I fly;
In bliss I must grieve, love;
In bliss let me sigh!

II

On the green bowers
That echoed my song,—
On all the glad flowers
I cherished so long,—
On yon merry brook, love,
In light gushing by,
I look my last look, love;
For these let me sigh!

382

III

There my gay brother
Less joyous is grown;
And there my fond mother
Sits pensive and lone;
Roam—rest where I will, love,
Beneath a fair sky,
They'll sigh for me still, love;—
For them let me sigh!

IV

Though I forget not
The name I bear now,
And though I regret not
The ring or the vow,
A cloud's on my heart, love,
A tear's in mine eye;
Most dear as thou art, love,
To-day let me sigh!

December 16, 1836.