The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
 | I, II. |
 | III, IV. |
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| NATIONAL AIRS. |
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| V. |
| VI, VII. |
| VIII, IX. |
| X. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
147
NATIONAL AIRS.
151
A TEMPLE TO FRIENDSHIP.
“A Temple to Friendship,” said Laura, enchanted,“I'll build in this garden,—the thought is divine!”
Her temple was built, and she now only wanted
An image of Friendship to place on the shrine.
She flew to a sculptor, who set down before her
A Friendship, the fairest his art could invent;
But so cold and so dull, that the youthful adorer
Saw plainly this was not the idol she meant.
152
“An image, whose looks are so joyless and dim;—
“But yon little god, upon roses reclining,
“We'll make, if you please, Sir, a Friendship of him.”
So the bargain was struck; with the little god laden
She joyfully flew to her shrine in the grove:
“Farewell,” said the sculptor, “you're not the first maiden
“Who came but for Friendship and took away Love.”
153
FLOW ON, THOU SHINING RIVER.
Flow on, thou shining river;
But, ere thou reach the sea,
Seek Ella's bower, and give her
The wreaths I fling o'er thee.
And tell her thus, if she'll be mine,
The current of our lives shall be,
With joys along their course to shine,
Like those sweet flowers on thee.
But, ere thou reach the sea,
Seek Ella's bower, and give her
The wreaths I fling o'er thee.
And tell her thus, if she'll be mine,
The current of our lives shall be,
With joys along their course to shine,
Like those sweet flowers on thee.
But if, in wandering thither,
Thou find'st she mocks my prayer,
Then leave those wreaths to wither
Upon the cold bank there;
And tell her thus, when youth is o'er,
Her lone and loveless charms shall be
Thrown by upon life's weedy shore,
Like those sweet flowers from thee.
Thou find'st she mocks my prayer,
Then leave those wreaths to wither
Upon the cold bank there;
And tell her thus, when youth is o'er,
Her lone and loveless charms shall be
Thrown by upon life's weedy shore,
Like those sweet flowers from thee.
154
ALL THAT'S BRIGHT MUST FADE.
All that's bright must fade,—
The brightest still the fleetest;
All that's sweet was made,
But to be lost when sweetest.
Stars that shine and fall;—
The flower that drops in springing;—
These, alas! are types of all
To which our hearts are clinging.
All that's bright must fade,—
The brightest still the fleetest;
All that's sweet was made
But to be lost when sweetest!
The brightest still the fleetest;
All that's sweet was made,
But to be lost when sweetest.
Stars that shine and fall;—
The flower that drops in springing;—
These, alas! are types of all
To which our hearts are clinging.
All that's bright must fade,—
The brightest still the fleetest;
All that's sweet was made
But to be lost when sweetest!
Who would seek or prize
Delights that end in aching?
Who would trust to ties
That every hour are breaking?
Better far to be
In utter darkness lying,
Than to be bless'd with light and see
That light for ever flying.
All that's bright must fade,—
The brightest still the fleetest;
All that's sweet was made
But to be lost when sweetest!
Delights that end in aching?
Who would trust to ties
That every hour are breaking?
155
In utter darkness lying,
Than to be bless'd with light and see
That light for ever flying.
All that's bright must fade,—
The brightest still the fleetest;
All that's sweet was made
But to be lost when sweetest!
156
SO WARMLY WE MET.
So warmly we met and so fondly we parted,
That which was the sweeter ev'n I could not tell,—
That first look of welcome her sunny eyes darted,
Or that tear of passion, which bless'd our farewell.
To meet was a heaven, and to part thus another,—
Our joy and our sorrow seem'd rivals in bliss;
Oh! Cupid's two eyes are not liker each other
In smiles and in tears, than that moment to this.
That which was the sweeter ev'n I could not tell,—
That first look of welcome her sunny eyes darted,
Or that tear of passion, which bless'd our farewell.
To meet was a heaven, and to part thus another,—
Our joy and our sorrow seem'd rivals in bliss;
Oh! Cupid's two eyes are not liker each other
In smiles and in tears, than that moment to this.
The first was like day-break, new, sudden, delicious,—
The dawn of a pleasure scarce kindled up yet;
The last like the farewell of daylight, more precious,
More glowing and deep, as 'tis nearer its set.
Our meeting, though happy, was tinged by a sorrow
To think that such happiness could not remain;
While our parting, though sad, gave a hope that to-morrow
Would bring back the bless'd hour of meeting again.
The dawn of a pleasure scarce kindled up yet;
The last like the farewell of daylight, more precious,
More glowing and deep, as 'tis nearer its set.
Our meeting, though happy, was tinged by a sorrow
To think that such happiness could not remain;
While our parting, though sad, gave a hope that to-morrow
Would bring back the bless'd hour of meeting again.
157
THOSE EVENING BELLS.
Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells,
Of youth, and home, and that sweet time,
When last I heard their soothing chime.
How many a tale their music tells,
Of youth, and home, and that sweet time,
When last I heard their soothing chime.
Those joyous hours are past away;
And many a heart, that then was gay,
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.
And many a heart, that then was gay,
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.
And so 'twill be when I am gone;
That tuneful peal will still ring on,
While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells!
That tuneful peal will still ring on,
While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells!
158
SHOULD THOSE FOND HOPES.
Should those fond hopes e'er forsake thee
,
Which now so sweetly thy heart employ;
Should the cold world come to wake thee
From all thy visions of youth and joy;
Should the gay friends, for whom thou wouldst banish
Him who once thought thy young heart his own,
All, like spring birds, falsely vanish,
And leave thy winter unheeded and lone;—
Which now so sweetly thy heart employ;
Should the cold world come to wake thee
From all thy visions of youth and joy;
Should the gay friends, for whom thou wouldst banish
Him who once thought thy young heart his own,
All, like spring birds, falsely vanish,
And leave thy winter unheeded and lone;—
Oh! 'tis then that he thou hast slighted
Would come to cheer thee, when all seem'd o'er;
Then the truant, lost and blighted,
Would to his bosom be taken once more.
Like that dear bird we both can remember,
Who left us while summer shone round,
But, when chill'd by bleak December,
On our threshold a welcome still found.
Would come to cheer thee, when all seem'd o'er;
Then the truant, lost and blighted,
Would to his bosom be taken once more.
159
Who left us while summer shone round,
But, when chill'd by bleak December,
On our threshold a welcome still found.
This is one of the many instances among my lyrical poems, —though the above, it must be owned, is an extreme case,— where the metre has been necessarily sacrificed to the structure of the air.
160
REASON, FOLLY, AND BEAUTY.
Reason, and Folly, and Beauty, they say,
Went on a party of pleasure one day:
Folly play'd
Around the maid,
The bells of his cap rung merrily out;
While Reason took
To his sermon-book—
Oh! which was the pleasanter no one need doubt,
Which was the pleasanter no one need doubt.
Went on a party of pleasure one day:
Folly play'd
Around the maid,
The bells of his cap rung merrily out;
While Reason took
To his sermon-book—
Oh! which was the pleasanter no one need doubt,
Which was the pleasanter no one need doubt.
Beauty, who likes to be thought very sage,
Turn'd for a moment to Reason's dull page,
Till Folly said,
“Look here, sweet maid!”—
The sight of his cap brought her back to herself;
While Reason read
His leaves of lead,
With no one to mind him, poor sensible elf!
No,—no one to mind him, poor sensible elf!
Turn'd for a moment to Reason's dull page,
Till Folly said,
“Look here, sweet maid!”—
The sight of his cap brought her back to herself;
While Reason read
His leaves of lead,
With no one to mind him, poor sensible elf!
No,—no one to mind him, poor sensible elf!
161
Then Reason grew jealous of Folly's gay cap;
Had he that on, he her heart might entrap—
“There it is,”
Quoth Folly, “old quiz!”
(Folly was always good-natured, 'tis said,)
“Under the sun
“There's no such fun,
“As Reason with my cap and bells on his head,
“Reason with my cap and bells on his head!”
Had he that on, he her heart might entrap—
“There it is,”
Quoth Folly, “old quiz!”
(Folly was always good-natured, 'tis said,)
“Under the sun
“There's no such fun,
“As Reason with my cap and bells on his head,
“Reason with my cap and bells on his head!”
But Reason the head-dress so awkwardly wore,
That Beauty now liked him still less than before;
While Folly took
Old Reason's book,
And twisted the leaves in a cap of such ton,
That Beauty vow'd
(Though not aloud),
She liked him still better in that than his own,
Yes,—liked him still better in that than his own.
That Beauty now liked him still less than before;
While Folly took
Old Reason's book,
And twisted the leaves in a cap of such ton,
That Beauty vow'd
(Though not aloud),
She liked him still better in that than his own,
Yes,—liked him still better in that than his own.
162
FARE THEE WELL, THOU LOVELY ONE!
Fare thee well, thou lovely one!
Lovely still, but dear no more;
Once his soul of truth is gone,
Love's sweet life is o'er.
Thy words, whate'er their flatt'ring spell,
Could scarce have thus deceived;
But eyes that acted truth so well
Were sure to be believed.
Then, fare thee well, thou lovely one!
Lovely still, but dear no more;
Once his soul of truth is gone,
Love's sweet life is o'er.
Lovely still, but dear no more;
Once his soul of truth is gone,
Love's sweet life is o'er.
Thy words, whate'er their flatt'ring spell,
Could scarce have thus deceived;
But eyes that acted truth so well
Were sure to be believed.
Then, fare thee well, thou lovely one!
Lovely still, but dear no more;
Once his soul of truth is gone,
Love's sweet life is o'er.
Yet those eyes look constant still,
True as stars they keep their light;
Still those cheeks their pledge fulfil
Of blushing always bright.
'Tis only on thy changeful heart
The blame of falsehood lies;
Love lives in every other part,
But there, alas! he dies.
Then, fare thee well, thou lovely one!
Lovely still, but dear no more;
Once his soul of truth is gone,
Love's sweet life is o'er.
True as stars they keep their light;
Still those cheeks their pledge fulfil
Of blushing always bright.
163
The blame of falsehood lies;
Love lives in every other part,
But there, alas! he dies.
Then, fare thee well, thou lovely one!
Lovely still, but dear no more;
Once his soul of truth is gone,
Love's sweet life is o'er.
164
DOST THOU REMEMBER.
Dost thou remember that place so lonely,
A place for lovers, and lovers only,
Where first I told thee all my secret sighs?
When, as the moonbeam, that trembled o'er thee,
Illumed thy blushes, I knelt before thee,
And read my hope's sweet triumph in those eyes?
Then, then, while closely heart was drawn to heart,
Love bound us—never, never more to part!
A place for lovers, and lovers only,
Where first I told thee all my secret sighs?
When, as the moonbeam, that trembled o'er thee,
Illumed thy blushes, I knelt before thee,
And read my hope's sweet triumph in those eyes?
Then, then, while closely heart was drawn to heart,
Love bound us—never, never more to part!
And when I call'd thee by names the dearest
That love could fancy, the fondest, nearest,—
“My life, my only life!” among the rest;
In those sweet accents that still inthral me,
Thou saidst, “Ah! wherefore thy life thus call me?
“Thy soul, thy soul's the name that I love best;
“For life soon passes,—but how bless'd to be
“That Soul which never, never parts from thee!”
That love could fancy, the fondest, nearest,—
“My life, my only life!” among the rest;
In those sweet accents that still inthral me,
Thou saidst, “Ah! wherefore thy life thus call me?
“Thy soul, thy soul's the name that I love best;
“For life soon passes,—but how bless'd to be
“That Soul which never, never parts from thee!”
165
OH, COME TO ME WHEN DAYLIGHT SETS.
Oh, come to me when daylight sets;
Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets
O'er the moonlight sea.
When Mirth's awake, and Love begins,
Beneath that glancing ray,
With sound of lutes and mandolins,
To steal young hearts away.
Then, come to me when daylight sets;
Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets
O'er the moonlight sea.
Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets
O'er the moonlight sea.
When Mirth's awake, and Love begins,
Beneath that glancing ray,
With sound of lutes and mandolins,
To steal young hearts away.
Then, come to me when daylight sets;
Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets
O'er the moonlight sea.
Oh, then's the hour for those who love,
Sweet, like thee and me;
When all's so calm below, above,
In Heav'n and o'er the sea.
When maidens sing sweet barcarolles
,
And Echo sings again
So sweet, that all with ears and souls
Should love and listen then.
So, come to me when daylight sets;
Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets
O'er the moonlight sea.
Sweet, like thee and me;
When all's so calm below, above,
In Heav'n and o'er the sea.
166
And Echo sings again
So sweet, that all with ears and souls
Should love and listen then.
So, come to me when daylight sets;
Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets
O'er the moonlight sea.
Barcarolles, sorte de chansons en langue Vénitienne, que chantent les gondoliers à Venise. —Rousseau, Dictionnaire de Musique.
167
OFT, IN THE STILLY NIGHT.
Oft, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimm'd and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimm'd and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
When I remember all
The friends, so link'd together,
I've seen around me fall,
Like leaves in wintry weather;
I feel like one,
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
The friends, so link'd together,
I've seen around me fall,
Like leaves in wintry weather;
168
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
169
HARK! THE VESPER HYMN IS STEALING.
Hark! the vesper hymn is stealing
O'er the waters soft and clear;
Nearer yet and nearer pealing,
And now bursts upon the ear:
Jubilate, Amen.
Farther now, now farther stealing,
Soft it fades upon the ear:
Jubilate, Amen.
O'er the waters soft and clear;
Nearer yet and nearer pealing,
And now bursts upon the ear:
Jubilate, Amen.
Farther now, now farther stealing,
Soft it fades upon the ear:
Jubilate, Amen.
Now, like moonlight waves retreating
To the shore, it dies along;
Now, like angry surges meeting,
Breaks the mingled tide of song:
Jubilate, Amen.
Hush! again, like waves, retreating
To the shore, it dies along:
Jubilate, Amen.
To the shore, it dies along;
Now, like angry surges meeting,
Breaks the mingled tide of song:
Jubilate, Amen.
Hush! again, like waves, retreating
To the shore, it dies along:
Jubilate, Amen.
170
LOVE AND HOPE.
At morn, beside yon summer sea,
Young Hope and Love reclined;
But scarce had noon-tide come, when he
Into his bark leap'd smilingly,
And left poor Hope behind.
Young Hope and Love reclined;
But scarce had noon-tide come, when he
Into his bark leap'd smilingly,
And left poor Hope behind.
“I go,” said Love, “to sail awhile
“Across this sunny main;”
And then so sweet his parting smile,
That Hope, who never dreamt of guile,
Believed he'd come again.
“Across this sunny main;”
And then so sweet his parting smile,
That Hope, who never dreamt of guile,
Believed he'd come again.
She linger'd there till evening's beam
Along the waters lay;
And o'er the sands, in thoughtful dream,
Oft traced his name, which still the stream
As often wash'd away.
Along the waters lay;
And o'er the sands, in thoughtful dream,
Oft traced his name, which still the stream
As often wash'd away.
171
At length a sail appears in sight,
And tow'rd the maiden moves!
'Tis Wealth that comes, and gay and bright,
His golden bark reflects the light,
But ah! it is not Love's.
And tow'rd the maiden moves!
'Tis Wealth that comes, and gay and bright,
His golden bark reflects the light,
But ah! it is not Love's.
Another sail—'twas Friendship show'd
Her night-lamp o'er the sea;
And calm the light that lamp bestow'd;
But Love had lights that warmer glow'd,
And where, alas! was he?
Her night-lamp o'er the sea;
And calm the light that lamp bestow'd;
But Love had lights that warmer glow'd,
And where, alas! was he?
Now fast around the sea and shore
Night threw her darkling chain;
The sunny sails were seen no more,
Hope's morning dreams of bliss were o'er,—
Love never came again!
Night threw her darkling chain;
The sunny sails were seen no more,
Hope's morning dreams of bliss were o'er,—
Love never came again!
172
THERE COMES A TIME.
There comes a time, a dreary time,
To him whose heart hath flown
O'er all the fields of youth's sweet prime,
And made each flower its own.
'Tis when his soul must first renounce
Those dreams so bright, so fond;
Oh! then's the time to die at once,
For life has nought beyond.
To him whose heart hath flown
O'er all the fields of youth's sweet prime,
And made each flower its own.
'Tis when his soul must first renounce
Those dreams so bright, so fond;
Oh! then's the time to die at once,
For life has nought beyond.
When sets the sun on Afric's shore,
That instant all is night;
And so should life at once be o'er,
When Love withdraws his light;—
Nor, like our northern day, gleam on
Through twilight's dim delay,
The cold remains of lustre gone,
Of fire long pass'd away.
That instant all is night;
And so should life at once be o'er,
When Love withdraws his light;—
Nor, like our northern day, gleam on
Through twilight's dim delay,
The cold remains of lustre gone,
Of fire long pass'd away.
173
MY HARP HAS ONE UNCHANGING THEME.
My harp has one unchanging theme,
One strain that still comes o'er
Its languid chord, as 'twere a dream
Of joy that's now no more.
In vain I try, with livelier air,
To wake the breathing string;
That voice of other times is there,
And saddens all I sing.
One strain that still comes o'er
Its languid chord, as 'twere a dream
Of joy that's now no more.
In vain I try, with livelier air,
To wake the breathing string;
That voice of other times is there,
And saddens all I sing.
Breathe on, breathe on, thou languid strain,
Henceforth be all my own;
Though thou art oft so full of pain
Few hearts can bear thy tone.
Yet oft thou'rt sweet, as if the sigh,
The breath that Pleasure's wings
Gave out, when last they wanton'd by,
Were still upon thy strings.
Henceforth be all my own;
Though thou art oft so full of pain
Few hearts can bear thy tone.
Yet oft thou'rt sweet, as if the sigh,
The breath that Pleasure's wings
Gave out, when last they wanton'd by,
Were still upon thy strings.
174
OH, NO—NOT EV'N WHEN FIRST WE LOVED.
Oh, no—not ev'n when first we loved,
Wert thou as dear as now thou art;
Thy beauty then my senses moved,
But now thy virtues bind my heart.
What was but Passion's sigh before,
Has since been turn'd to Reason's vow;
And, though I then might love thee more,
Trust me, I love thee better now.
Wert thou as dear as now thou art;
Thy beauty then my senses moved,
But now thy virtues bind my heart.
What was but Passion's sigh before,
Has since been turn'd to Reason's vow;
And, though I then might love thee more,
Trust me, I love thee better now.
Although my heart in earlier youth
Might kindle with more wild desire,
Believe me, it has gain'd in truth
Much more than it has lost in fire.
The flame now warms my inmost core,
That then but sparkled o'er my brow,
And, though I seem'd to love thee more,
Yet, oh, I love thee better now.
Might kindle with more wild desire,
Believe me, it has gain'd in truth
Much more than it has lost in fire.
The flame now warms my inmost core,
That then but sparkled o'er my brow,
And, though I seem'd to love thee more,
Yet, oh, I love thee better now.
175
PEACE BE AROUND THEE.
Peace be around thee, wherever thou rov'st;
May life be for thee one summer's day,
And all that thou wishest, and all that thou lov'st,
Come smiling around thy sunny way!
If sorrow e'er this calm should break,
May even thy tears pass off so lightly,
Like spring-showers, they'll only make
The smiles that follow shine more brightly.
May life be for thee one summer's day,
And all that thou wishest, and all that thou lov'st,
Come smiling around thy sunny way!
If sorrow e'er this calm should break,
May even thy tears pass off so lightly,
Like spring-showers, they'll only make
The smiles that follow shine more brightly.
May Time, who sheds his blight o'er all,
And daily dooms some joy to death,
O'er thee let years so gently fall,
They shall not crush one flower beneath.
As half in shade and half in sun
This world along its path advances,
May that side the sun's upon
Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances!
And daily dooms some joy to death,
O'er thee let years so gently fall,
They shall not crush one flower beneath.
As half in shade and half in sun
This world along its path advances,
May that side the sun's upon
Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances!
176
COMMON SENSE AND GENIUS.
While I touch the string,
Wreathe my brows with laurel,
For the tale I sing
Has, for once, a moral.
Common Sense, one night,
Though not used to gambols,
Went out by moonlight,
With Genius, on his rambles.
While I touch the string, &c.
Wreathe my brows with laurel,
For the tale I sing
Has, for once, a moral.
Common Sense, one night,
Though not used to gambols,
Went out by moonlight,
With Genius, on his rambles.
While I touch the string, &c.
Common Sense went on,
Many wise things saying;
While the light that shone
Soon set Genius straying.
One his eye ne'er raised
From the path before him;
T'other idly gazed
On each night-cloud o'er him.
While I touch the string, &c.
Many wise things saying;
While the light that shone
Soon set Genius straying.
One his eye ne'er raised
From the path before him;
T'other idly gazed
On each night-cloud o'er him.
While I touch the string, &c.
177
So they came, at last,
To a shady river;
Common Sense soon pass'd;
Safe, as he doth ever;
While the boy, whose look
Was in Heaven that minute,
Never saw the brook,
But tumbled headlong in it!
While I touch the string, &c.
To a shady river;
Common Sense soon pass'd;
Safe, as he doth ever;
While the boy, whose look
Was in Heaven that minute,
Never saw the brook,
But tumbled headlong in it!
While I touch the string, &c.
How the Wise One smiled,
When safe o'er the torrent,
At that youth, so wild,
Dripping from the current!
Sense went home to bed;
Genius, left to shiver
On the bank, 'tis said,
Died of that cold river!
While I touch the string, &c.
When safe o'er the torrent,
At that youth, so wild,
Dripping from the current!
Sense went home to bed;
Genius, left to shiver
On the bank, 'tis said,
Died of that cold river!
While I touch the string, &c.
178
THEN, FARE THEE WELL.
Then, fare thee well, my own dear love,
This world has now for us
No greater grief, no pain above
The pain of parting thus,
Dear love!
The pain of parting thus.
This world has now for us
No greater grief, no pain above
The pain of parting thus,
Dear love!
The pain of parting thus.
Had we but known, since first we met,
Some few short hours of bliss,
We might, in numbering them, forget
The deep, deep pain of this,
Dear love!
The deep, deep pain of this.
Some few short hours of bliss,
We might, in numbering them, forget
The deep, deep pain of this,
Dear love!
The deep, deep pain of this.
But no, alas, we've never seen
One glimpse of pleasure's ray,
But still there came some cloud between,
And chased it all away,
Dear love!
And chased it all away.
One glimpse of pleasure's ray,
179
And chased it all away,
Dear love!
And chased it all away.
Yet, ev'n could those sad moments last,
Far dearer to my heart
Were hours of grief, together past,
Than years of mirth apart,
Dear love!
Than years of mirth apart.
Far dearer to my heart
Were hours of grief, together past,
Than years of mirth apart,
Dear love!
Than years of mirth apart.
Farewell! our hope was born in fears,
And nursed 'mid vain regrets;
Like winter suns, it rose in tears,
Like them in tears it sets,
Dear love!
Like them in tears it sets.
And nursed 'mid vain regrets;
Like winter suns, it rose in tears,
Like them in tears it sets,
Dear love!
Like them in tears it sets.
180
GAILY SOUNDS THE CASTANET.
Gaily sounds the castanet,
Beating time to bounding feet,
When, after daylight's golden set,
Maids and youths by moonlight meet.
Oh, then, how sweet to move
Through all that maze of mirth,
Led by light from eyes we love
Beyond all eyes on earth.
Beating time to bounding feet,
When, after daylight's golden set,
Maids and youths by moonlight meet.
Oh, then, how sweet to move
Through all that maze of mirth,
Led by light from eyes we love
Beyond all eyes on earth.
Then, the joyous banquet spread
On the cool and fragrant ground,
With heav'n's bright sparklers overhead,
And still brighter sparkling round.
Oh, then, how sweet to say
Into some loved one's ear,
Thoughts reserved through many a day
To be thus whisper'd here.
On the cool and fragrant ground,
With heav'n's bright sparklers overhead,
And still brighter sparkling round.
Oh, then, how sweet to say
Into some loved one's ear,
Thoughts reserved through many a day
To be thus whisper'd here.
181
When the dance and feast are done,
Arm in arm as home we stray,
How sweet to see the dawning sun
O'er her cheek's warm blushes play!
Then, too, the farewell kiss—
The words, whose parting tone
Lingers still in dreams of bliss,
That haunt young hearts alone.
Arm in arm as home we stray,
How sweet to see the dawning sun
O'er her cheek's warm blushes play!
Then, too, the farewell kiss—
The words, whose parting tone
Lingers still in dreams of bliss,
That haunt young hearts alone.
182
LOVE IS A HUNTER-BOY.
Love is a hunter-boy,
Who makes young hearts his prey;
And, in his nets of joy,
Ensnares them night and day.
In vain conceal'd they lie—
Love tracks them every where;
In vain aloft they fly—
Love shoots them flying there.
Who makes young hearts his prey;
And, in his nets of joy,
Ensnares them night and day.
In vain conceal'd they lie—
Love tracks them every where;
In vain aloft they fly—
Love shoots them flying there.
But 'tis his joy most sweet,
At early dawn to trace
The print of Beauty's feet,
And give the trembler chase.
And if, through virgin snow,
He tracks her footsteps fair,
How sweet for Love to know
None went before him there.
At early dawn to trace
The print of Beauty's feet,
And give the trembler chase.
And if, through virgin snow,
He tracks her footsteps fair,
How sweet for Love to know
None went before him there.
183
COME, CHASE THAT STARTING TEAR AWAY.
Come, chase that starting tear away,
Ere mine to meet it springs;
To-night, at least, to-night be gay,
Whate'er to-morrow brings.
Like sun-set gleams, that linger late
When all is dark'ning fast,
Are hours like these we snatch from Fate—
The brightest, and the last.
Then, chase that starting tear, &c.
Ere mine to meet it springs;
To-night, at least, to-night be gay,
Whate'er to-morrow brings.
Like sun-set gleams, that linger late
When all is dark'ning fast,
Are hours like these we snatch from Fate—
The brightest, and the last.
Then, chase that starting tear, &c.
To gild the deepening gloom, if Heaven
But one bright hour allow,
Oh, think that one bright hour is given,
In all its splendour, now.
Let's live it out—then sink in night,
Like waves that from the shore
One minute swell, are touch'd with light,
Then lost for evermore!
Come, chase that starting tear, &c.
But one bright hour allow,
Oh, think that one bright hour is given,
In all its splendour, now.
184
Like waves that from the shore
One minute swell, are touch'd with light,
Then lost for evermore!
Come, chase that starting tear, &c.
185
JOYS OF YOUTH, HOW FLEETING!
Whisp'rings, heard by wakeful maids,
To whom the night-stars guide us;
Stolen walks through moonlight shades,
With those we love beside us,
Hearts beating,
At meeting;
Tears starting,
At parting;
Oh, sweet youth, how soon it fades!
Sweet joys of youth, how fleeting!
To whom the night-stars guide us;
Stolen walks through moonlight shades,
With those we love beside us,
Hearts beating,
At meeting;
Tears starting,
At parting;
Oh, sweet youth, how soon it fades!
Sweet joys of youth, how fleeting!
Wand'rings far away from home,
With life all new before us;
Greetings warm, when home we come,
From hearts whose prayers watch'd o'er us.
Tears starting,
At parting;
Hearts beating,
At meeting;
Oh, sweet youth, how lost on some!
To some, how bright and fleeting!
With life all new before us;
Greetings warm, when home we come,
From hearts whose prayers watch'd o'er us.
186
At parting;
Hearts beating,
At meeting;
Oh, sweet youth, how lost on some!
To some, how bright and fleeting!
187
HEAR ME BUT ONCE.
Hear me but once, while o'er the grave,
In which our Love lies cold and dead,
I count each flatt'ring hope he gave
Of joys, now lost, and charms now fled.
In which our Love lies cold and dead,
I count each flatt'ring hope he gave
Of joys, now lost, and charms now fled.
Who could have thought the smile he wore,
When first we met, would fade away?
Or that a chill would e'er come o'er
Those eyes so bright through many a day?
Hear me but once, &c.
When first we met, would fade away?
Or that a chill would e'er come o'er
Those eyes so bright through many a day?
Hear me but once, &c.
188
WHEN LOVE WAS A CHILD.
When Love was a child, and went idling round,
'Mong flowers, the whole summer's day,
One morn in the valley a bower he found,
So sweet, it allured him to stay.
'Mong flowers, the whole summer's day,
One morn in the valley a bower he found,
So sweet, it allured him to stay.
O'erhead, from the trees, hung a garland fair,
A fountain ran darkly beneath;—
'Twas Pleasure had hung up the flow'rets there;
Love knew it, and jump'd at the wreath.
A fountain ran darkly beneath;—
'Twas Pleasure had hung up the flow'rets there;
Love knew it, and jump'd at the wreath.
But Love didn't know—and, at his weak years,
What urchin was likely to know?—
That Sorrow had made of her own salt tears
The fountain that murmur'd below.
What urchin was likely to know?—
That Sorrow had made of her own salt tears
The fountain that murmur'd below.
189
He caught at the wreath—but with too much haste,
As boys when impatient will do—
It fell in those waters of briny taste,
And the flowers were all wet through.
As boys when impatient will do—
It fell in those waters of briny taste,
And the flowers were all wet through.
This garland he now wears night and day;
And, though it all sunny appears
With Pleasure's own light, each leaf, they say,
Still tastes of the Fountain of Tears.
And, though it all sunny appears
With Pleasure's own light, each leaf, they say,
Still tastes of the Fountain of Tears.
190
SAY, WHAT SHALL BE OUR SPORT TO-DAY?
Say, what shall be our sport to-day?
There's nothing on earth, in sea, or air,
Too bright, too high, too wild, too gay
For spirits like mine to dare!
'Tis like the returning bloom
Of those days, alas, gone by,
When I loved, each hour—I scarce knew whom—
And was bless'd—I scarce knew why.
There's nothing on earth, in sea, or air,
Too bright, too high, too wild, too gay
For spirits like mine to dare!
'Tis like the returning bloom
Of those days, alas, gone by,
When I loved, each hour—I scarce knew whom—
And was bless'd—I scarce knew why.
Ay—those were days when life had wings,
And flew, oh, flew so wild a height,
That, like the lark which sunward springs,
'Twas giddy with too much light.
And, though of some plumes bereft,
With that sun, too, nearly set,
I've enough of light and wing still left
For a few gay soarings yet.
And flew, oh, flew so wild a height,
That, like the lark which sunward springs,
'Twas giddy with too much light.
And, though of some plumes bereft,
With that sun, too, nearly set,
I've enough of light and wing still left
For a few gay soarings yet.
191
BRIGHT BE THY DREAMS.
Bright be thy dreams—may all thy weeping
Turn into smiles while thou art sleeping.
May those by death or seas removed,
The friends, who in thy spring-time knew thee,
All, thou hast ever prized or loved,
In dreams come smiling to thee!
Turn into smiles while thou art sleeping.
May those by death or seas removed,
The friends, who in thy spring-time knew thee,
All, thou hast ever prized or loved,
In dreams come smiling to thee!
There may the child, whose love lay deepest,
Dearest of all, come while thou sleepest;
Still as she was—no charm forgot—
No lustre lost that life had given;
Or, if changed, but changed to what
Thou'lt find her yet in Heaven!
Dearest of all, come while thou sleepest;
Still as she was—no charm forgot—
No lustre lost that life had given;
Or, if changed, but changed to what
Thou'lt find her yet in Heaven!
192
GO, THEN—'TIS VAIN.
Go, then—'tis vain to hover
Thus round a hope that's dead;
At length my dream is over;
'Twas sweet—'twas false—'tis fled!
Farewell! since nought it moves thee,
Such truth as mine to see—
Some one, who far less loves thee,
Perhaps more bless'd will be.
Thus round a hope that's dead;
At length my dream is over;
'Twas sweet—'twas false—'tis fled!
Farewell! since nought it moves thee,
Such truth as mine to see—
Some one, who far less loves thee,
Perhaps more bless'd will be.
Farewell, sweet eyes, whose brightness
New life around me shed;
Farewell, false heart, whose lightness
Now leaves me death instead.
Go, now, those charms surrender
To some new lover's sigh—
One who, though far less tender,
May be more bless'd than I.
New life around me shed;
Farewell, false heart, whose lightness
Now leaves me death instead.
Go, now, those charms surrender
To some new lover's sigh—
One who, though far less tender,
May be more bless'd than I.
193
THE CRYSTAL-HUNTERS.
O'er mountains bright
With snow and light,
We Crystal-Hunters speed along;
While rocks and caves,
And icy waves,
Each instant echo to our song;
And, when we meet with store of gems,
We grudge not kings their diadems.
O'er mountains bright
With snow and light,
We Crystal-Hunters speed along;
While grots and caves,
And icy waves,
Each instant echo to our song.
With snow and light,
We Crystal-Hunters speed along;
While rocks and caves,
And icy waves,
Each instant echo to our song;
And, when we meet with store of gems,
We grudge not kings their diadems.
O'er mountains bright
With snow and light,
We Crystal-Hunters speed along;
While grots and caves,
And icy waves,
Each instant echo to our song.
Not half so oft the lover dreams
Of sparkles from his lady's eyes,
As we of those refreshing gleams
That tell where deep the crystal lies;
Though, next to crystal, we too grant,
That ladies' eyes may most enchant.
O'er mountains bright, &c.
Of sparkles from his lady's eyes,
194
That tell where deep the crystal lies;
Though, next to crystal, we too grant,
That ladies' eyes may most enchant.
O'er mountains bright, &c.
Sometimes, when on the Alpine rose
The golden sunset leaves its ray,
So like a gem the flow'ret glows,
We thither bend our headlong way;
And, though we find no treasure there,
We bless the rose that shines so fair.
O'er mountains bright
With snow and light,
We Crystal-Hunters speed along;
While rocks and caves,
And icy waves,
Each instant echo to our song.
The golden sunset leaves its ray,
So like a gem the flow'ret glows,
We thither bend our headlong way;
And, though we find no treasure there,
We bless the rose that shines so fair.
O'er mountains bright
With snow and light,
We Crystal-Hunters speed along;
While rocks and caves,
And icy waves,
Each instant echo to our song.
195
ROW GENTLY HERE.
Row gently here,
My gondolier,
So softly wake the tide,
That not an ear,
On earth, may hear,
But hers to whom we glide.
Had Heaven but tongues to speak, as well
As starry eyes to see,
Oh, think what tales 'twould have to tell
Of wand'ring youths like me!
My gondolier,
So softly wake the tide,
That not an ear,
On earth, may hear,
But hers to whom we glide.
Had Heaven but tongues to speak, as well
As starry eyes to see,
Oh, think what tales 'twould have to tell
Of wand'ring youths like me!
Now rest thee here,
My gondolier;
Hush, hush, for up I go,
To climb yon light
Balcony's height,
While thou keep'st watch below.
Ah! did we take for Heaven above
But half such pains as we
Take, day and night, for woman's love,
What Angels we should be!
My gondolier;
Hush, hush, for up I go,
To climb yon light
Balcony's height,
While thou keep'st watch below.
196
But half such pains as we
Take, day and night, for woman's love,
What Angels we should be!
197
OH, DAYS OF YOUTH.
Oh, days of youth and joy, long clouded,
Why thus for ever haunt my view?
When in the grave your light lay shrouded,
Why did not Memory die there too?
Vainly doth Hope her strain now sing me,
Telling of joys that yet remain—
No, never more can this life bring me
One joy that equals youth's sweet pain.
Why thus for ever haunt my view?
When in the grave your light lay shrouded,
Why did not Memory die there too?
Vainly doth Hope her strain now sing me,
Telling of joys that yet remain—
No, never more can this life bring me
One joy that equals youth's sweet pain.
Dim lies the way to death before me,
Cold winds of Time blow round my brow;
Sunshine of youth! that once fell o'er me,
Where is your warmth, your glory now?
'Tis not that then no pain could sting me;
'Tis not that now no joys remain;
Oh, 'tis that life no more can bring me
One joy so sweet as that worst pain.
Cold winds of Time blow round my brow;
Sunshine of youth! that once fell o'er me,
Where is your warmth, your glory now?
'Tis not that then no pain could sting me;
'Tis not that now no joys remain;
Oh, 'tis that life no more can bring me
One joy so sweet as that worst pain.
198
WHEN FIRST THAT SMILE.
When first that smile, like sunshine, bless'd my sight,
Oh what a vision then came o'er me!
Long years of love, of calm and pure delight,
Seem'd in that smile to pass before me.
Ne'er did the peasant dream of summer skies,
Of golden fruit, and harvests springing,
With fonder hope than I of those sweet eyes,
And of the joy their light was bringing.
Oh what a vision then came o'er me!
Long years of love, of calm and pure delight,
Seem'd in that smile to pass before me.
Ne'er did the peasant dream of summer skies,
Of golden fruit, and harvests springing,
With fonder hope than I of those sweet eyes,
And of the joy their light was bringing.
Where now are all those fondly-promised hours?
Ah! woman's faith is like her brightness—
Fading as fast as rainbows, or day-flowers,
Or aught that's known for grace and lightness.
Short as the Persian's prayer, at close of day,
Should be each vow of Love's repeating;
Quick let him worship Beauty's precious ray—
Even while he kneels, that ray is fleeting!
Ah! woman's faith is like her brightness—
Fading as fast as rainbows, or day-flowers,
Or aught that's known for grace and lightness.
Short as the Persian's prayer, at close of day,
Should be each vow of Love's repeating;
Quick let him worship Beauty's precious ray—
Even while he kneels, that ray is fleeting!
199
PEACE TO THE SLUMBERERS!
Peace to the slumberers!
They lie on the battle-plain,
With no shroud to cover them;
The dew and the summer rain
Are all that weep over them.
Peace to the slumberers!
They lie on the battle-plain,
With no shroud to cover them;
The dew and the summer rain
Are all that weep over them.
Peace to the slumberers!
Vain was their bravery!—
The fallen oak lies where it lay,
Across the wintry river;
But brave hearts, once swept away,
Are gone, alas! for ever.
Vain was their bravery!
The fallen oak lies where it lay,
Across the wintry river;
But brave hearts, once swept away,
Are gone, alas! for ever.
Vain was their bravery!
Woe to the conqueror!
Our limbs shall lie as cold as theirs
Of whom his sword bereft us,
Ere we forget the deep arrears
Of vengeance they have left us!
Woe to the conqueror!
Our limbs shall lie as cold as theirs
Of whom his sword bereft us,
Ere we forget the deep arrears
Of vengeance they have left us!
Woe to the conqueror!
200
WHEN THOU SHALT WANDER.
When thou shalt wander by that sweet light
We used to gaze on so many an eve,
When love was new and hope was bright,
Ere I could doubt or thou deceive—
Oh, then, rememb'ring how swift went by
Those hours of transport, even thou may'st sigh.
We used to gaze on so many an eve,
When love was new and hope was bright,
Ere I could doubt or thou deceive—
Oh, then, rememb'ring how swift went by
Those hours of transport, even thou may'st sigh.
Yes, proud one! even thy heart may own
That love like ours was far too sweet
To be, like summer garments, thrown
Aside, when pass'd the summer's heat;
And wish in vain to know again
Such days, such nights, as bless'd thee then.
That love like ours was far too sweet
To be, like summer garments, thrown
Aside, when pass'd the summer's heat;
And wish in vain to know again
Such days, such nights, as bless'd thee then.
201
WHO'LL BUY MY LOVE-KNOTS?
Hymen, late, his love-knots selling,
Call'd at many a maiden's dwelling:
None could doubt, who saw or knew them,
Hymen's call was welcome to them.
“Who'll buy my love-knots?
“Who'll buy my love-knots?”
Soon as that sweet cry resounded,
How his baskets were surrounded!
Call'd at many a maiden's dwelling:
None could doubt, who saw or knew them,
Hymen's call was welcome to them.
“Who'll buy my love-knots?
“Who'll buy my love-knots?”
Soon as that sweet cry resounded,
How his baskets were surrounded!
Maids, who now first dreamt of trying
These gay knots of Hymen's tying;
Dames, who long had sat to watch him
Passing by, but ne'er could catch him;—
“Who'll buy my love-knots?
“Who'll buy my love-knots?”—
All at that sweet cry assembled;
Some laugh'd, some blush'd, and some trembled.
These gay knots of Hymen's tying;
Dames, who long had sat to watch him
Passing by, but ne'er could catch him;—
“Who'll buy my love-knots?
“Who'll buy my love-knots?”—
All at that sweet cry assembled;
Some laugh'd, some blush'd, and some trembled.
“Here are knots,” said Hymen, taking
Some loose flowers, “of Love's own making;
“Here are gold ones—you may trust 'em”—
(These, of course, found ready custom).
“Come, buy my love-knots!
“Come, buy my love-knots!
“Some are labell'd ‘Knots to tie men—
“Love the maker—Bought of Hymen.’”
Some loose flowers, “of Love's own making;
202
(These, of course, found ready custom).
“Come, buy my love-knots!
“Come, buy my love-knots!
“Some are labell'd ‘Knots to tie men—
“Love the maker—Bought of Hymen.’”
Scarce their bargains were completed,
When the nymphs all cried, “We're cheated!
“See these flowers—they're drooping sadly;
“This gold-knot, too, ties but badly—
“Who'd buy such love-knots?
“Who'd buy such love-knots?
“Even this tie, with Love's name round it—
“All a sham—He never bound it.”
When the nymphs all cried, “We're cheated!
“See these flowers—they're drooping sadly;
“This gold-knot, too, ties but badly—
“Who'd buy such love-knots?
“Who'd buy such love-knots?
“Even this tie, with Love's name round it—
“All a sham—He never bound it.”
Love, who saw the whole proceeding,
Would have laugh'd, but for good breeding;
While Old Hymen, who was used to
Cries like that these dames gave loose to—
“Take back our love-knots!
“Take back our love-knots!”
Coolly said, “There's no returning
“Wares on Hymen's hands—Good morning!”
Would have laugh'd, but for good breeding;
While Old Hymen, who was used to
Cries like that these dames gave loose to—
“Take back our love-knots!
“Take back our love-knots!”
Coolly said, “There's no returning
“Wares on Hymen's hands—Good morning!”
203
SEE, THE DAWN FROM HEAVEN.
See, the dawn from Heaven is breaking
O'er our sight,
And Earth, from sin awaking,
Hails the light!
See those groups of angels, winging
From the realms above,
On their brows, from Eden, bringing
Wreaths of Hope and Love.
O'er our sight,
And Earth, from sin awaking,
Hails the light!
See those groups of angels, winging
From the realms above,
On their brows, from Eden, bringing
Wreaths of Hope and Love.
Hark, their hymns of glory pealing
Through the air,
To mortal ears revealing
Who lies there!
In that dwelling, dark and lowly,
Sleeps the Heavenly Son,
He, whose home's above,—the Holy,
Ever Holy One!
Through the air,
To mortal ears revealing
Who lies there!
In that dwelling, dark and lowly,
Sleeps the Heavenly Son,
He, whose home's above,—the Holy,
Ever Holy One!
204
NETS AND CAGES.
Come, listen to my story, while
Your needle's task you ply;
At what I sing some maids will smile,
While some, perhaps, may sigh.
Though Love's the theme, and Wisdom blames
Such florid songs as ours,
Yet Truth sometimes, like eastern dames,
Can speak her thoughts by flowers.
Then listen, maids, come listen, while
Your needle's task you ply;
At what I sing there's some may smile,
While some, perhaps, will sigh.
Your needle's task you ply;
At what I sing some maids will smile,
While some, perhaps, may sigh.
Though Love's the theme, and Wisdom blames
Such florid songs as ours,
Yet Truth sometimes, like eastern dames,
Can speak her thoughts by flowers.
Then listen, maids, come listen, while
Your needle's task you ply;
At what I sing there's some may smile,
While some, perhaps, will sigh.
205
Young Cloe, bent on catching Loves,
Such nets had learn'd to frame,
That none, in all our vales and groves,
E'er caught so much small game:
But gentle Sue, less giv'n to roam,
While Cloe's nets were taking
Such lots of Loves, sat still at home,
One little Love-cage making.
Come, listen, maids, &c.
Such nets had learn'd to frame,
That none, in all our vales and groves,
E'er caught so much small game:
But gentle Sue, less giv'n to roam,
While Cloe's nets were taking
Such lots of Loves, sat still at home,
One little Love-cage making.
Come, listen, maids, &c.
Much Cloe laugh'd at Susan's task;
But mark how things went on:
These light-caught Loves, ere you could ask
Their name and age, were gone!
So weak poor Cloe's nets were wove,
That, though she charm'd into them
New game each hour, the youngest Love
Was able to break through them.
Come, listen, maids, &c.
But mark how things went on:
These light-caught Loves, ere you could ask
Their name and age, were gone!
So weak poor Cloe's nets were wove,
That, though she charm'd into them
New game each hour, the youngest Love
Was able to break through them.
Come, listen, maids, &c.
Meanwhile, young Sue, whose cage was wrought
Of bars too strong to sever,
One Love with golden pinions caught,
And caged him there for ever;
Instructing, thereby, all coquettes,
Whate'er their looks or ages,
That, though 'tis pleasant weaving Nets,
'Tis wiser to make Cages.
Of bars too strong to sever,
One Love with golden pinions caught,
And caged him there for ever;
206
Whate'er their looks or ages,
That, though 'tis pleasant weaving Nets,
'Tis wiser to make Cages.
Thus, maidens, thus do I beguile
The task your fingers ply.—
May all who hear like Susan smile,
And not, like Cloe, sigh!
The task your fingers ply.—
May all who hear like Susan smile,
And not, like Cloe, sigh!
Suggested by the following remark of Swift's:—“The reason why so few marriages are happy, is, because young ladies spend their time in making nets, not in making cages.”
207
WHEN THROUGH THE PIAZZETTA.
When through the Piazzetta
Night breathes her cool air,
Then, dearest Ninetta,
I'll come to thee there.
Beneath thy mask shrouded,
I'll know thee afar,
As Love knows, though clouded,
His own Evening Star.
Night breathes her cool air,
Then, dearest Ninetta,
I'll come to thee there.
Beneath thy mask shrouded,
I'll know thee afar,
As Love knows, though clouded,
His own Evening Star.
In garb, then, resembling
Some gay gondolier,
I'll whisper thee, trembling,
“Our bark, love, is near:
“Now, now, while there hover
“Those clouds o'er the moon,
“'Twill waft thee safe over
“Yon silent Lagoon.”
Some gay gondolier,
I'll whisper thee, trembling,
“Our bark, love, is near:
“Now, now, while there hover
“Those clouds o'er the moon,
“'Twill waft thee safe over
“Yon silent Lagoon.”
208
GO, NOW, AND DREAM.
Go, now, and dream o'er that joy in thy slumber—
Moments so sweet again ne'er shalt thou number.
Of Pain's bitter draught the flavour ne'er flies,
While Pleasure's scarce touches the lip ere it dies.
Go, then, and dream, &c.
Moments so sweet again ne'er shalt thou number.
Of Pain's bitter draught the flavour ne'er flies,
While Pleasure's scarce touches the lip ere it dies.
Go, then, and dream, &c.
That moon, which hung o'er your parting, so splendid,
Often will shine again, bright as she then did—
But, never more will the beam she saw burn
In those happy eyes, at your meeting, return.
Go, then, and dream, &c.
Often will shine again, bright as she then did—
But, never more will the beam she saw burn
In those happy eyes, at your meeting, return.
Go, then, and dream, &c.
209
TAKE HENCE THE BOWL.
Take hence the bowl;—though beaming
Brightly as bowl e'er shone,
Oh, it but sets me dreaming
Of happy days now gone.
There, in its clear reflection,
As in a wizard's glass,
Lost hopes and dead affection,
Like shades, before me pass.
Brightly as bowl e'er shone,
Oh, it but sets me dreaming
Of happy days now gone.
There, in its clear reflection,
As in a wizard's glass,
Lost hopes and dead affection,
Like shades, before me pass.
Each cup I drain brings hither
Some scene of bliss gone by;—
Bright lips, too bright to wither,
Warm hearts, too warm to die.
Till, as the dream comes o'er me
Of those long vanish'd years,
Alas, the wine before me
Seems turning all to tears!
Some scene of bliss gone by;—
Bright lips, too bright to wither,
Warm hearts, too warm to die.
Till, as the dream comes o'er me
Of those long vanish'd years,
Alas, the wine before me
Seems turning all to tears!
210
FAREWELL, THERESA!
Farewell, Theresa! yon cloud that over
Heaven's pale night-star gath'ring we see,
Will scarce from that pure orb have pass'd, ere thy lover
Swift o'er the wide wave shall wander from thee.
Heaven's pale night-star gath'ring we see,
Will scarce from that pure orb have pass'd, ere thy lover
Swift o'er the wide wave shall wander from thee.
Long, like that dim cloud, I've hung around thee,
Dark'ning thy prospects, sadd'ning thy brow;
With gay heart, Theresa, and bright cheek I found thee;
Oh, think how changed, love, how changed art thou now!
Dark'ning thy prospects, sadd'ning thy brow;
With gay heart, Theresa, and bright cheek I found thee;
Oh, think how changed, love, how changed art thou now!
But here I free thee: like one awaking
From fearful slumber, thou break'st the spell;
'Tis over—the moon, too, her bondage is breaking—
Past are the dark clouds; Theresa, farewell!
From fearful slumber, thou break'st the spell;
'Tis over—the moon, too, her bondage is breaking—
Past are the dark clouds; Theresa, farewell!
211
HOW OFT, WHEN WATCHING STARS.
Oft, when the watching stars grow pale,
And round me sleeps the moonlight scene,
To hear a flute through yonder vale
I from my casement lean.
“Come, come, my love!” each note then seems to say,
“Oh, come, my love! the night wears fast away!”
Never to mortal ear
Could words, though warm they be,
Speak Passion's language half so clear
As do those notes to me!
And round me sleeps the moonlight scene,
To hear a flute through yonder vale
I from my casement lean.
“Come, come, my love!” each note then seems to say,
“Oh, come, my love! the night wears fast away!”
Never to mortal ear
Could words, though warm they be,
Speak Passion's language half so clear
As do those notes to me!
Then quick my own light lute I seek,
And strike the chords with loudest swell;
And, though they nought to others speak,
He knows their language well.
“I come, my love!” each note then seems to say,
“I come, my love!—thine, thine till break of day.”
Oh, weak the power of words,
The hues of painting dim,
Compared to what those simple chords
Then say and paint to him!
And strike the chords with loudest swell;
And, though they nought to others speak,
He knows their language well.
“I come, my love!” each note then seems to say,
“I come, my love!—thine, thine till break of day.”
212
The hues of painting dim,
Compared to what those simple chords
Then say and paint to him!
213
WHEN THE FIRST SUMMER BEE.
When the first summer bee
O'er the young rose shall hover,
Then, like that gay rover,
I'll come to thee.
He to flowers, I to lips, full of sweets to the brim—
What a meeting, what a meeting for me and for him!
When the first summer bee, &c.
O'er the young rose shall hover,
Then, like that gay rover,
I'll come to thee.
He to flowers, I to lips, full of sweets to the brim—
What a meeting, what a meeting for me and for him!
When the first summer bee, &c.
Then, to every bright tree
In the garden he'll wander;
While I, oh, much fonder,
Will stay with thee.
In search of new sweetness through thousands he'll run,
While I find the sweetness of thousands in one.
Then, to every bright tree, &c.
In the garden he'll wander;
While I, oh, much fonder,
Will stay with thee.
In search of new sweetness through thousands he'll run,
While I find the sweetness of thousands in one.
Then, to every bright tree, &c.
214
THOUGH 'TIS ALL BUT A DREAM.
Though 'tis all but a dream at the best,
And still, when happiest, soonest o'er,
Yet, even in a dream, to be bless'd
Is so sweet, that I ask for no more.
The bosom that opes
With earliest hopes,
The soonest finds those hopes untrue;
As flowers that first
In spring-time burst
The earliest wither too!
Ay—'tis all but a dream, &c.
And still, when happiest, soonest o'er,
Yet, even in a dream, to be bless'd
Is so sweet, that I ask for no more.
The bosom that opes
With earliest hopes,
The soonest finds those hopes untrue;
As flowers that first
In spring-time burst
The earliest wither too!
Ay—'tis all but a dream, &c.
Though by friendship we oft are deceived,
And find love's sunshine soon o'ercast,
Yet friendship will still be believed,
And love trusted on to the last.
The web 'mong the leaves
The spider weaves
Is like the charm Hope hangs o'er men;
Though often she sees
'Tis broke by the breeze,
She spins the bright tissue again.
Ay—'tis all but a dream, &c.
And find love's sunshine soon o'ercast,
Yet friendship will still be believed,
And love trusted on to the last.
215
The spider weaves
Is like the charm Hope hangs o'er men;
Though often she sees
'Tis broke by the breeze,
She spins the bright tissue again.
Ay—'tis all but a dream, &c.
216
WHEN THE WINE-CUP IS SMILING.
When the wine-cup is smiling before us,
And we pledge round to hearts that are true, boy, true,
Then the sky of this life opens o'er us,
And Heaven gives a glimpse of its blue.
Talk of Adam in Eden reclining,
We are better, far better off thus, boy, thus;
For him but two bright eyes were shining—
See, what numbers are sparkling for us!
And we pledge round to hearts that are true, boy, true,
Then the sky of this life opens o'er us,
And Heaven gives a glimpse of its blue.
Talk of Adam in Eden reclining,
We are better, far better off thus, boy, thus;
For him but two bright eyes were shining—
See, what numbers are sparkling for us!
When on one side the grape-juice is dancing,
While on t'other a blue eye beams, boy, beams,
'Tis enough, 'twixt the wine and the glancing,
To disturb ev'n a saint from his dreams.
Yet, though life like a river is flowing,
I care not how fast it goes on, boy, on,
So the grape on its bank is still growing,
And Love lights the waves as they run.
While on t'other a blue eye beams, boy, beams,
'Tis enough, 'twixt the wine and the glancing,
To disturb ev'n a saint from his dreams.
Yet, though life like a river is flowing,
I care not how fast it goes on, boy, on,
So the grape on its bank is still growing,
And Love lights the waves as they run.
217
WHERE SHALL WE BURY OUR SHAME?
Where shall we bury our shame?
Where, in what desolate place,
Hide the last wreck of a name
Broken and stain'd by disgrace?
Death may dissever the chain,
Oppression will cease when we're gone;
But the dishonour, the stain,
Die as we may, will live on.
Where, in what desolate place,
Hide the last wreck of a name
Broken and stain'd by disgrace?
Death may dissever the chain,
Oppression will cease when we're gone;
But the dishonour, the stain,
Die as we may, will live on.
Was it for this we sent out
Liberty's cry from our shore?
Was it for this that her shout
Thrill'd to the world's very core?
Thus to live cowards and slaves!—
Oh, ye free hearts that lie dead,
Do you not, ev'n in your graves,
Shudder, as o'er you we tread?
Liberty's cry from our shore?
Was it for this that her shout
Thrill'd to the world's very core?
Thus to live cowards and slaves!—
Oh, ye free hearts that lie dead,
Do you not, ev'n in your graves,
Shudder, as o'er you we tread?
218
NE'ER TALK OF WISDOM'S GLOOMY SCHOOLS.
Ne'er talk of Wisdom's gloomy schools;
Give me the sage who's able
To draw his moral thoughts and rules
From the study of the table;—
Who learns how lightly, fleetly pass
This world and all that's in it,
From the bumper that but crowns his glass,
And is gone again next minute!
Give me the sage who's able
To draw his moral thoughts and rules
From the study of the table;—
Who learns how lightly, fleetly pass
This world and all that's in it,
From the bumper that but crowns his glass,
And is gone again next minute!
The diamond sleeps within the mine,
The pearl beneath the water;
While Truth, more precious, dwells in wine,
The grape's own rosy daughter.
And none can prize her charms like him,
Oh, none like him obtain her,
Who thus can, like Leander, swim
Through sparkling floods to gain her!
The pearl beneath the water;
While Truth, more precious, dwells in wine,
The grape's own rosy daughter.
And none can prize her charms like him,
Oh, none like him obtain her,
Who thus can, like Leander, swim
Through sparkling floods to gain her!
219
HERE SLEEPS THE BARD.
Here sleeps the Bard who knew so wellAll the sweet windings of Apollo's shell;
Whether its music roll'd like torrents near,
Or died, like distant streamlets, on the ear.
Sleep, sleep, mute bard; alike unheeded now
The storm and zephyr sweep thy lifeless brow;—
That storm, whose rush is like thy martial lay;
That breeze which, like thy love-song, dies away!
220
DO NOT SAY THAT LIFE IS WANING.
Do not say that life is waning,
Or that hope's sweet day is set;
While I've thee and love remaining,
Life is in th' horizon yet.
Or that hope's sweet day is set;
While I've thee and love remaining,
Life is in th' horizon yet.
Do not think those charms are flying,
Though thy roses fade and fall;
Beauty hath a grace undying,
Which in thee survives them all.
Though thy roses fade and fall;
Beauty hath a grace undying,
Which in thee survives them all.
Not for charms, the newest, brightest,
That on other cheeks may shine,
Would I change the least, the slightest,
That is ling'ring now o'er thine.
That on other cheeks may shine,
Would I change the least, the slightest,
That is ling'ring now o'er thine.
221
THE GAZELLE.
Dost thou not hear the silver bell,
Thro' yonder lime-trees ringing?
'Tis my lady's light gazelle,
To me her love thoughts bringing,—
All the while that silver bell
Around his dark neck ringing.
Thro' yonder lime-trees ringing?
'Tis my lady's light gazelle,
To me her love thoughts bringing,—
All the while that silver bell
Around his dark neck ringing.
See, in his mouth he bears a wreath,
My love hath kist in tying;
Oh, what tender thoughts beneath
Those silent flowers are lying,—
Hid within the mystic wreath,
My love hath kist in tying!
My love hath kist in tying;
Oh, what tender thoughts beneath
Those silent flowers are lying,—
Hid within the mystic wreath,
My love hath kist in tying!
Welcome, dear gazelle, to thee,
And joy to her, the fairest,
Who thus hath breathed her soul to me,
In every leaf thou bearest;
Welcome, dear gazelle, to thee,
And joy to her the fairest!
And joy to her, the fairest,
Who thus hath breathed her soul to me,
In every leaf thou bearest;
Welcome, dear gazelle, to thee,
And joy to her the fairest!
222
Hail ye living, speaking flowers,
That breathe of her who bound ye;
Oh, 'twas not in fields, or bowers,
'Twas on her lips, she found ye;—
Yes, ye blushing, speaking flowers,
'Twas on her lips she found ye.
That breathe of her who bound ye;
Oh, 'twas not in fields, or bowers,
'Twas on her lips, she found ye;—
Yes, ye blushing, speaking flowers,
'Twas on her lips she found ye.
223
NO—LEAVE MY HEART TO REST.
No—leave my heart to rest, if rest it may,
When youth, and love, and hope, have pass'd away.
Could'st thou, when summer hours are fled,
To some poor leaf that's fall'n and dead,
Bring back the hue it wore, the scent it shed?
No—leave this heart to rest, if rest it may,
When youth, and love, and hope, have pass'd away.
When youth, and love, and hope, have pass'd away.
Could'st thou, when summer hours are fled,
To some poor leaf that's fall'n and dead,
Bring back the hue it wore, the scent it shed?
No—leave this heart to rest, if rest it may,
When youth, and love, and hope, have pass'd away.
Oh, had I met thee then, when life was bright,
Thy smile might still have fed its tranquil light;
But now thou com'st like sunny skies,
Too late to cheer the seaman's eyes,
When wreck'd and lost his bark before him lies!
No—leave this heart to rest, if rest it may,
Since youth, and love, and hope, have pass'd away
Thy smile might still have fed its tranquil light;
But now thou com'st like sunny skies,
Too late to cheer the seaman's eyes,
When wreck'd and lost his bark before him lies!
No—leave this heart to rest, if rest it may,
Since youth, and love, and hope, have pass'd away
224
WHERE ARE THE VISIONS.
“Where are the visions that round me once hover'd,
“Forms that shed grace from their shadows alone;
“Looks fresh as light from a star just discovered,
“And voices that Music might take for her own?”
“Forms that shed grace from their shadows alone;
“Looks fresh as light from a star just discovered,
“And voices that Music might take for her own?”
Time, while I spoke, with his wings resting o'er me,
Heard me say, “Where are those visions, oh where?”
And pointing his wand to the sunset before me,
Said, with a voice like the hollow wind, “There.”
Heard me say, “Where are those visions, oh where?”
And pointing his wand to the sunset before me,
Said, with a voice like the hollow wind, “There.”
Fondly I looked, when the wizard had spoken,
And there, mid the dim-shining ruins of day,
Saw, by their light, like a talisman broken,
The last golden fragments of hope melt away.
And there, mid the dim-shining ruins of day,
Saw, by their light, like a talisman broken,
The last golden fragments of hope melt away.
225
WIND THY HORN, MY HUNTER BOY.
Wind thy horn, my hunter boy,
And leave thy lute's inglorious sighs;
Hunting is the hero's joy,
Till war his nobler game supplies.
Hark! the hound-bells ringing sweet,
While hunters shout, and the woods repeat,
Hilli-ho! Hilli-ho!
And leave thy lute's inglorious sighs;
Hunting is the hero's joy,
Till war his nobler game supplies.
Hark! the hound-bells ringing sweet,
While hunters shout, and the woods repeat,
Hilli-ho! Hilli-ho!
Wind again thy cheerful horn,
Till echo, faint with answering, dies:
Burn, bright torches, burn till morn,
And lead us where the wild boar lies.
Hark! the cry, “He's found, he's found,”
While hill and valley our shouts resound,
Hilli-ho! Hilli-ho!
Till echo, faint with answering, dies:
Burn, bright torches, burn till morn,
And lead us where the wild boar lies.
Hark! the cry, “He's found, he's found,”
While hill and valley our shouts resound,
Hilli-ho! Hilli-ho!
226
OH, GUARD OUR AFFECTION.
Oh, guard our affection, nor e'er let it feel
The blight that this world o'er the warmest will steal:
While the faith of all round us is fading or past,
Let ours, ever green, keep its bloom to the last.
The blight that this world o'er the warmest will steal:
While the faith of all round us is fading or past,
Let ours, ever green, keep its bloom to the last.
Far safer for Love 'tis to wake and to weep,
As he used in his prime, than go smiling to sleep;
For death on his slumber, cold death follows fast,
While the love that is wakeful lives on to the last.
As he used in his prime, than go smiling to sleep;
For death on his slumber, cold death follows fast,
While the love that is wakeful lives on to the last.
And tho', as Time gathers his clouds o'er our head,
A shade somewhat darker o'er life they may spread,
Transparent, at least, be the shadow they cast,
So that Love's soften'd light may shine through to the last.
A shade somewhat darker o'er life they may spread,
Transparent, at least, be the shadow they cast,
So that Love's soften'd light may shine through to the last.
227
SLUMBER, OH SLUMBER.
“Slumber, oh slumber; if sleeping thou mak'st
“My heart beat so wildly, I'm lost if thou wak'st.”
Thus sung I to a maiden,
Who slept one summer's day,
And, like a flower o'erladen
With too much sunshine, lay.
Slumber, oh slumber, &c.
“My heart beat so wildly, I'm lost if thou wak'st.”
Thus sung I to a maiden,
Who slept one summer's day,
And, like a flower o'erladen
With too much sunshine, lay.
Slumber, oh slumber, &c.
“Breathe not, oh breathe not, ye winds, o'er her cheeks;
“If mute thus she charm me, I'm lost when she speaks.”
Thus sing I, while, awaking,
She murmurs words that seem
As if her lips were taking
Farewell of some sweet dream.
Breathe not, oh breathe not, &c.
“If mute thus she charm me, I'm lost when she speaks.”
Thus sing I, while, awaking,
She murmurs words that seem
As if her lips were taking
Farewell of some sweet dream.
Breathe not, oh breathe not, &c.
228
BRING THE BRIGHT GARLANDS HITHER.
Bring the bright garlands hither,
Ere yet a leaf is dying;
If so soon they must wither,
Ours be their last sweet sighing.
Hark, that low dismal chime!
'Tis the dreary voice of Time.
Oh, bring beauty, bring roses,
Bring all that yet is ours;
Let life's day, as it closes,
Shine to the last thro' flowers.
Ere yet a leaf is dying;
If so soon they must wither,
Ours be their last sweet sighing.
Hark, that low dismal chime!
'Tis the dreary voice of Time.
Oh, bring beauty, bring roses,
Bring all that yet is ours;
Let life's day, as it closes,
Shine to the last thro' flowers.
Haste, ere the bowl's declining,
Drink of it now or never;
Now, while Beauty is shining,
Love, or she's lost for ever.
Hark! again that dull chime,
'Tis the dreary voice of Time.
Oh, if life be a torrent,
Down to oblivion going,
Like this cup be its current,
Bright to the last drop flowing!
Drink of it now or never;
Now, while Beauty is shining,
Love, or she's lost for ever.
Hark! again that dull chime,
'Tis the dreary voice of Time.
229
Down to oblivion going,
Like this cup be its current,
Bright to the last drop flowing!
230
IF IN LOVING, SINGING.
If in loving, singing, night and dayWe could trifle merrily life away,
Like atoms dancing in the beam,
Like day-flies skimming o'er the stream,
Or summer blossoms, born to sigh
Their sweetness out, and die—
How brilliant, thoughtless, side by side,
Thou and I could make our minutes glide!
No atoms ever glanced so bright,
No day-flies ever danced so light,
Nor summer blossoms mix'd their sigh,
So close, as thou and I!
231
THOU LOV'ST NO MORE.
Too plain, alas, my doom is spoken,
Nor canst thou veil the sad truth o'er;
Thy heart is changed, thy vow is broken,
Thou lov'st no more—thou lov'st no more.
Nor canst thou veil the sad truth o'er;
Thy heart is changed, thy vow is broken,
Thou lov'st no more—thou lov'st no more.
Tho' kindly still those eyes behold me,
The smile is gone, which once they wore;
Tho' fondly still those arms enfold me,
'Tis not the same—thou lov'st no more.
The smile is gone, which once they wore;
Tho' fondly still those arms enfold me,
'Tis not the same—thou lov'st no more.
Too long my dream of bliss believing,
I've thought thee all thou wert before;
But now—alas! there's no deceiving,
'Tis all too plain, thou lov'st no more.
I've thought thee all thou wert before;
But now—alas! there's no deceiving,
'Tis all too plain, thou lov'st no more.
Oh, thou as soon the dead couldst waken,
As lost affection's life restore,
Give peace to her that is forsaken,
Or bring back him who loves no more.
As lost affection's life restore,
Give peace to her that is forsaken,
Or bring back him who loves no more.
232
WHEN ABROAD IN THE WORLD.
When abroad in the world thou appearest,
And the young and the lovely are there,
To my heart while of all thou'rt the dearest,
To my eyes thou'rt of all the most fair.
They pass, one by one,
Like waves of the sea,
That say to the Sun,
“See, how fair we can be.”
But where's the light like thine,
In sun or shade to shine?
No—no, 'mong them all, there is nothing like thee,
Nothing like thee.
And the young and the lovely are there,
To my heart while of all thou'rt the dearest,
To my eyes thou'rt of all the most fair.
They pass, one by one,
Like waves of the sea,
That say to the Sun,
“See, how fair we can be.”
But where's the light like thine,
In sun or shade to shine?
No—no, 'mong them all, there is nothing like thee,
Nothing like thee.
Oft, of old, without farewell or warning,
Beauty's self used to steal from the skies;
Fling a mist round her head, some fine morning,
And post down to earth in disguise;
But, no matter what shroud
Around her might be,
Men peep'd through the cloud,
And whisper'd, “'Tis She.”
So thou, where thousands are,
Shin'st forth the only star,—
Yes, yes, 'mong them all, there is nothing like thee,
Nothing like thee.
Beauty's self used to steal from the skies;
Fling a mist round her head, some fine morning,
And post down to earth in disguise;
233
Around her might be,
Men peep'd through the cloud,
And whisper'd, “'Tis She.”
So thou, where thousands are,
Shin'st forth the only star,—
Yes, yes, 'mong them all, there is nothing like thee,
Nothing like thee.
234
KEEP THOSE EYES STILL PURELY MINE.
Keep those eyes still purely mine,
Tho' far off I be:
When on others most they shine,
Then think they're turn'd on me.
Tho' far off I be:
When on others most they shine,
Then think they're turn'd on me.
Should those lips as now respond
To sweet minstrelsy,
When their accents seem most fond,
Then think they're breathed for me.
To sweet minstrelsy,
When their accents seem most fond,
Then think they're breathed for me.
Make what hearts thou wilt thy own,
If when all on thee
Fix their charmed thoughts alone,
Thou think'st the while on me.
If when all on thee
Fix their charmed thoughts alone,
Thou think'st the while on me.
235
HOPE COMES AGAIN.
Hope comes again, to this heart long a stranger,
Once more she sings me her flattering strain;
But hush, gentle syren—for, ah, there's less danger
In still suff'ring on, than in hoping again.
Once more she sings me her flattering strain;
But hush, gentle syren—for, ah, there's less danger
In still suff'ring on, than in hoping again.
Long, long, in sorrow, too deep for repining,
Gloomy, but tranquil, this bosom hath lain;
And joy coming now, like a sudden light shining
O'er eyelids long darken'd, would bring me but pain.
Gloomy, but tranquil, this bosom hath lain;
And joy coming now, like a sudden light shining
O'er eyelids long darken'd, would bring me but pain.
Fly then, ye visions, that Hope would shed o'er me;
Lost to the future, my sole chance of rest
Now lies not in dreaming of bliss that's before me,
But, ah—in forgetting how once I was blest.
Lost to the future, my sole chance of rest
Now lies not in dreaming of bliss that's before me,
But, ah—in forgetting how once I was blest.
236
O SAY, THOU BEST AND BRIGHTEST.
O say, thou best and brightest,
My first love and my last,
When he, whom now thou slightest,
From life's dark scene hath past,
Will kinder thoughts then move thee?
Will pity wake one thrill
For him who lived to love thee,
And dying loved thee still?
My first love and my last,
When he, whom now thou slightest,
From life's dark scene hath past,
Will kinder thoughts then move thee?
Will pity wake one thrill
For him who lived to love thee,
And dying loved thee still?
If when, that hour recalling
From which he dates his woes,
Thou feel'st a tear-drop falling,
Ah, blush not while it flows:
But, all the past forgiving,
Bend gently o'er his shrine,
And say, “This heart, when living,
“With all its faults, was mine.”
From which he dates his woes,
Thou feel'st a tear-drop falling,
Ah, blush not while it flows:
But, all the past forgiving,
Bend gently o'er his shrine,
And say, “This heart, when living,
“With all its faults, was mine.”
237
WHEN NIGHT BRINGS THE HOUR.
When night brings the hour
Of starlight and joy,
There comes to my bower
A fairy-wing'd boy;
With eyes so bright,
So full of wild arts,
Like nets of light,
To tangle young hearts;
With lips, in whose keeping
Love's secret may dwell,
Like Zephyr asleep in
Some rosy sea-shell.
Guess who he is,
Name but his name,
And his best kiss,
For reward, you may claim.
Of starlight and joy,
There comes to my bower
A fairy-wing'd boy;
With eyes so bright,
So full of wild arts,
Like nets of light,
To tangle young hearts;
With lips, in whose keeping
Love's secret may dwell,
Like Zephyr asleep in
Some rosy sea-shell.
Guess who he is,
Name but his name,
And his best kiss,
For reward, you may claim.
238
Where'er o'er the ground
He prints his light feet,
The flow'rs there are found
Most shining and sweet:
His looks, as soft
As lightning in May,
Though dangerous oft,
Ne'er wound but in play:
And oh, when his wings
Have brush'd o'er my lyre,
You'd fancy its strings
Were turning to fire.
Guess who he is,
Name but his name,
And his best kiss,
For reward, you may claim.
He prints his light feet,
The flow'rs there are found
Most shining and sweet:
His looks, as soft
As lightning in May,
Though dangerous oft,
Ne'er wound but in play:
And oh, when his wings
Have brush'd o'er my lyre,
You'd fancy its strings
Were turning to fire.
Guess who he is,
Name but his name,
And his best kiss,
For reward, you may claim.
239
LIKE ONE WHO, DOOM'D.
Like one who, doom'd o'er distant seas
His weary path to measure,
When home at length, with fav'ring breeze,
He brings the far-sought treasure;
His weary path to measure,
When home at length, with fav'ring breeze,
He brings the far-sought treasure;
His ship, in sight of shore, goes down,
That shore to which he hasted;
And all the wealth he thought his own
Is o'er the waters wasted!
That shore to which he hasted;
And all the wealth he thought his own
Is o'er the waters wasted!
Like him, this heart, thro' many a track
Of toil and sorrow straying,
One hope alone brought fondly back,
Its toil and grief repaying.
Of toil and sorrow straying,
One hope alone brought fondly back,
Its toil and grief repaying.
Like him, alas, I see that ray
Of hope before me perish,
And one dark minute sweep away
What years were given to cherish.
Of hope before me perish,
And one dark minute sweep away
What years were given to cherish.
240
FEAR NOT THAT, WHILE AROUND THEE.
Fear not that, while around thee
Life's varied blessings pour,
One sigh of hers shall wound thee,
Whose smile thou seek'st no more.
No, dead and cold for ever
Let our past love remain;
Once gone, its spirit never
Shall haunt thy rest again.
Life's varied blessings pour,
One sigh of hers shall wound thee,
Whose smile thou seek'st no more.
No, dead and cold for ever
Let our past love remain;
Once gone, its spirit never
Shall haunt thy rest again.
May the new ties that bind thee
Far sweeter, happier prove,
Nor e'er of me remind thee,
But by their truth and love.
Think how, asleep or waking,
Thy image haunts me yet;
But, how this heart is breaking
For thy own peace forget.
Far sweeter, happier prove,
Nor e'er of me remind thee,
But by their truth and love.
Think how, asleep or waking,
Thy image haunts me yet;
But, how this heart is breaking
For thy own peace forget.
241
WHEN LOVE IS KIND.
When Love is kind,
Cheerful and free,
Love's sure to find
Welcome from me.
Cheerful and free,
Love's sure to find
Welcome from me.
But when Love brings
Heartache or pang,
Tears, and such things—
Love may go hang!
Heartache or pang,
Tears, and such things—
Love may go hang!
If Love can sigh
For one alone,
Well pleased am I
To be that one.
For one alone,
Well pleased am I
To be that one.
But should I see
Love giv'n to rove
To two or three,
Then—good-by Love!
Love giv'n to rove
To two or three,
Then—good-by Love!
242
Love must, in short,
Keep fond and true,
Through good report,
And evil too.
Keep fond and true,
Through good report,
And evil too.
Else, here I swear,
Young Love may go,
For aught I care—
To Jericho.
Young Love may go,
For aught I care—
To Jericho.
243
THE GARLAND I SEND THEE.
The Garland I send thee was cull'd from those bowers
Where thou and I wander'd in long vanish'd hours;
Not a leaf or a blossom its bloom here displays,
But bears some remembrance of those happy days.
Where thou and I wander'd in long vanish'd hours;
Not a leaf or a blossom its bloom here displays,
But bears some remembrance of those happy days.
The roses were gathered by that garden gate,
Where our meetings, tho' early, seemed always too late;
Where ling'ring full oft through a summer-night's moon,
Our partings, tho' late, appeared always too soon.
Where our meetings, tho' early, seemed always too late;
Where ling'ring full oft through a summer-night's moon,
Our partings, tho' late, appeared always too soon.
The rest were all cull'd from the banks of that glade,
Where, watching the sunset, so often we've stray'd,
And mourn'd, as the time went, that Love had no power
To bind in his chain even one happy hour.
Where, watching the sunset, so often we've stray'd,
And mourn'd, as the time went, that Love had no power
To bind in his chain even one happy hour.
244
HOW SHALL I WOO?
If I speak to thee in friendship's name,
Thou think'st I speak too coldly;
If I mention Love's devoted flame,
Thou say'st I speak too boldly.
Between these two unequal fires,
Why doom me thus to hover?
I'm a friend, if such thy heart requires,
If more thou seek'st, a lover.
Which shall it be? How shall I woo?
Fair one, choose between the two.
Thou think'st I speak too coldly;
If I mention Love's devoted flame,
Thou say'st I speak too boldly.
Between these two unequal fires,
Why doom me thus to hover?
I'm a friend, if such thy heart requires,
If more thou seek'st, a lover.
Which shall it be? How shall I woo?
Fair one, choose between the two.
Tho' the wings of Love will brightly play,
When first he comes to woo thee,
There's a chance that he may fly away
As fast as he flies to thee.
While Friendship, tho' on foot she come,
No flights of fancy trying,
Will, therefore, oft be found at home,
When Love abroad is flying.
Which shall it be? How shall I woo?
Dear one, choose between the two.
When first he comes to woo thee,
There's a chance that he may fly away
As fast as he flies to thee.
While Friendship, tho' on foot she come,
No flights of fancy trying,
245
When Love abroad is flying.
Which shall it be? How shall I woo?
Dear one, choose between the two.
If neither feeling suits thy heart,
Let's see, to please thee, whether
We may not learn some precious art
To mix their charms together;
One feeling, still more sweet, to form
From two so sweet already—
A friendship that like love is warm,
A love like friendship steady.
Thus let it be, thus let me woo,
Dearest, thus we'll join the two.
Let's see, to please thee, whether
We may not learn some precious art
To mix their charms together;
One feeling, still more sweet, to form
From two so sweet already—
A friendship that like love is warm,
A love like friendship steady.
Thus let it be, thus let me woo,
Dearest, thus we'll join the two.
246
SPRING AND AUTUMN.
Every season hath its pleasures;
Spring may boast her flowery prime,
Yet the vineyard's ruby treasures
Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.
So Life's year begins and closes;
Days, tho' short'ning, still can shine;
What tho' youth gave love and roses,
Age still leaves us friends and wine.
Spring may boast her flowery prime,
Yet the vineyard's ruby treasures
Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.
So Life's year begins and closes;
Days, tho' short'ning, still can shine;
What tho' youth gave love and roses,
Age still leaves us friends and wine.
Phillis, when she might have caught me,
All the Spring looked coy and shy,
Yet herself in Autumn sought me,
When the flowers were all gone by.
Ah, too late;—she found her lover
Calm and free beneath his vine,
Drinking to the Spring-time over,
In his best autumnal wine.
All the Spring looked coy and shy,
Yet herself in Autumn sought me,
When the flowers were all gone by.
Ah, too late;—she found her lover
Calm and free beneath his vine,
Drinking to the Spring-time over,
In his best autumnal wine.
247
Thus may we, as years are flying,
To their flight our pleasures suit,
Nor regret the blossoms dying,
While we still may taste the fruit.
Oh, while days like this are ours,
Where's the lip that dares repine?
Spring may take our loves and flow'rs,
So Autumn leaves us friends and wine.
To their flight our pleasures suit,
Nor regret the blossoms dying,
While we still may taste the fruit.
Oh, while days like this are ours,
Where's the lip that dares repine?
Spring may take our loves and flow'rs,
So Autumn leaves us friends and wine.
248
LOVE ALONE.
If thou would'st have thy charms enchant our eyes,
First win our hearts, for there thy empire lies:
Beauty in vain would mount a heartless throne,
Her Right Divine is given by Love alone.
First win our hearts, for there thy empire lies:
Beauty in vain would mount a heartless throne,
Her Right Divine is given by Love alone.
What would the rose with all her pride be worth,
Were there no sun to call her brightness forth?
Maidens, unloved, like flowers in darkness thrown,
Wait but that light, which comes from Love alone.
Were there no sun to call her brightness forth?
Maidens, unloved, like flowers in darkness thrown,
Wait but that light, which comes from Love alone.
Fair as thy charms in yonder glass appear,
Trust not their bloom, they'll fade from year to year:
Would'st thou they still should shine as first they shone,
Go, fix thy mirror in Love's eyes alone.
Trust not their bloom, they'll fade from year to year:
Would'st thou they still should shine as first they shone,
Go, fix thy mirror in Love's eyes alone.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |