 | Irish Songs and Ballads |  |
153
SONGS AND SKETCHES.
155
SONG.
Some go smiling through the grey time.
Under naked, songless bowers:
Some go mourning all the May time,
'Mid the laughing leaves and flowers.
Why is this,
Rosy Bliss
Comes to kiss Winter grey?
Why, ah! why
Doth Sorrow sigh
On the lap of lovely May?
Under naked, songless bowers:
Some go mourning all the May time,
'Mid the laughing leaves and flowers.
Why is this,
Rosy Bliss
Comes to kiss Winter grey?
Why, ah! why
Doth Sorrow sigh
On the lap of lovely May?
Happy Love, with song and smiling,
Through the withered woodland goes:
Hapless Love hath no beguiling
From the redbreast or the rose.
This is why
Woods may sigh,
Flowers die and hearts be gay:
This, alas!
The piteous pass
That leaves us mourning all the May.
Through the withered woodland goes:
Hapless Love hath no beguiling
From the redbreast or the rose.
This is why
Woods may sigh,
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This, alas!
The piteous pass
That leaves us mourning all the May.
157
FROM THE RED ROSE.
From the red rose to the apple-blossom,
From the apple-blossom to the blue sky,
Looking up still in the spring-tide,
When none else is by,
For a love born
On a May morn,
Long, long ago, I sigh.
From the apple-blossom to the blue sky,
Looking up still in the spring-tide,
When none else is by,
For a love born
On a May morn,
Long, long ago, I sigh.
From the blue sky to the apple-blossom,
And the roses in row,
Looking down still in the spring-tide,
Through my garden I go,
For a love lost
In a spring frost,
Singing Heigh ho, heigh ho!
And the roses in row,
Looking down still in the spring-tide,
Through my garden I go,
For a love lost
In a spring frost,
Singing Heigh ho, heigh ho!
158
O BRANCH OF FRAGRANT BLOSSOM.
O Branch of fragrant blossom,
How the heart in my bosom
Lay heaving before you with hopeless sigh;
Till your voice grew low and tender,
And a soft, love-lit splendour
Shone out to save me from your dark, dreamy eye.
How the heart in my bosom
Lay heaving before you with hopeless sigh;
Till your voice grew low and tender,
And a soft, love-lit splendour
Shone out to save me from your dark, dreamy eye.
O branch of rosy blossom,
Radiant bride of my bosom,
My heart heaves no longer with hopeless sigh;
For you 're the blessed shadow
Upon my burning meadow,
My sunshine in winter, and my love till I die.
Radiant bride of my bosom,
My heart heaves no longer with hopeless sigh;
For you 're the blessed shadow
Upon my burning meadow,
My sunshine in winter, and my love till I die.
159
ONE LOVING SMILE.
O, white and red,Above your head
The arbutus flowers and berries grow;
And underneath
The blushing heath
I've found for luck the heath of snow;
And sure 'tis fine
The foamy line
That laughs across the purple bay;
But, ah, let slip
From your ripe lip
One loving smile, and where are they?
160
SNOW DRIFT.
Sigh on, sad wind,
O'er hill and forest,
With thee my spirit
Would fain go forth:
Thus unconfined,
When grief was sorest,
I should inherit
The dreary north.
O'er hill and forest,
With thee my spirit
Would fain go forth:
Thus unconfined,
When grief was sorest,
I should inherit
The dreary north.
With thee I'd sail
On viewless pinion
O'er snowy spaces
Where man is not;
And all things wail
The frost's dominion,
And summer's graces
Are all forgot.
On viewless pinion
O'er snowy spaces
Where man is not;
And all things wail
The frost's dominion,
And summer's graces
Are all forgot.
For my great grief,
All solace scorning,
Abhors the heaven
She's left a hell:
O'er flower and leaf,
The purple morning,
The golden even,
She spreads a spell.
All solace scorning,
161
She's left a hell:
O'er flower and leaf,
The purple morning,
The golden even,
She spreads a spell.
Till human speech
Seems false and hollow—
In man and woman
God's image lost.
Then I beseech
That I may follow
To haunts inhuman
Of snow and frost.
Seems false and hollow—
In man and woman
God's image lost.
Then I beseech
That I may follow
To haunts inhuman
Of snow and frost.
More true and chaste,
Thou bitter Norland,
Than southern languor,
Hot-blooded jars;
Thy wintry waste,
Thy solemn foreland,
Aurora's anger
Amongst the stars.
Thou bitter Norland,
Than southern languor,
Hot-blooded jars;
Thy wintry waste,
Thy solemn foreland,
Aurora's anger
Amongst the stars.
162
Sigh on, sad wind,
O'er hill and forest,
With thee my spirit
Would fain go forth;
Thus unconfined,
When grief was sorest,
I should inherit
The dreary north.
O'er hill and forest,
With thee my spirit
Would fain go forth;
Thus unconfined,
When grief was sorest,
I should inherit
The dreary north.
163
SHAMROCK LEAVES.
Oh! if for every tearThat from our exiled eyes
Has fallen, Erin dear,
A shamrock could arise,
We'd weave a garland green
Should stretch the ocean through,
All, all the way between
Our aching hearts and you!
164
SNOW STAINS.
The snow had fallen, and fallen from heaven,Unnoticed in the night,
As o'er the sleeping sons of God
Floated the manna white;
And still though small flowers crystalline
Blanched all the earth beneath,
Angels with busy hands above
Renewed the airy wreath;
When, white amid the falling flakes,
And fairer far than they,
Beside her wintry casement hoar
A dying woman lay.
“More pure than yonder virgin snow
From God comes gently down
I left my happy country home,”
She sighed, “to seek the town.
More foul than yonder drift shall turn,
Before the sun is high,
Down-trodden and defiled of men,
More foul,” she wept, “am I.
165
Thy good sun's face of fire
Draws the chaste spirit of the snow
To meet him from the mire,
Lord, from this leprous life in death
Lift me, Thy Magdalene,
That rapt into Redeeming Light
I may once more be clean.”
166
A SONG OF THE SEASONS.
Oh! the Spring's delight
Is the cowslip bright,
As she laughs to the warbling linnet,
And a whistling thrush
On a white May bush,
And his mate on her nest within it.
Is the cowslip bright,
As she laughs to the warbling linnet,
And a whistling thrush
On a white May bush,
And his mate on her nest within it.
Summer she shows
Her rose, her rose!
And oh! all the happy night long
The nightingale woos her;
At dawn the lark sues her,
With the crystal surprise of his song.
Her rose, her rose!
And oh! all the happy night long
The nightingale woos her;
At dawn the lark sues her,
With the crystal surprise of his song.
King Autumn's crown
Is the barley brown,
Red over with rosy fruit;
And the yellow trees,
As they sigh in the breeze,
Are the strings of his solemn lute.
Is the barley brown,
Red over with rosy fruit;
And the yellow trees,
As they sigh in the breeze,
Are the strings of his solemn lute.
167
Old Winter's breath
Is cold as death,
'Tis lonesome he's left the earth;
Yet the thrush he sings,
And the rose she springs
From the flame of his fairy hearth.
Is cold as death,
'Tis lonesome he's left the earth;
Yet the thrush he sings,
And the rose she springs
From the flame of his fairy hearth.
168
MAUREEN.
Blue eyes 'mid ebon lashes lost,
Gold hair o'er silver shoulders tossed,
Lips crimson coral ivory-crossed—
Maureen!
Gold hair o'er silver shoulders tossed,
Lips crimson coral ivory-crossed—
Maureen!
To-day to confidence beguiled;
To-morrow haughty, wayward, wild;
A woman half and half a child—
Maureen.
To-morrow haughty, wayward, wild;
A woman half and half a child—
Maureen.
169
SPRING'S SECRETS.
As once I paused on poet wing
In the green heart of a grove,
I met the Spirit of the Spring,
With her great eyes lit of Love.
In the green heart of a grove,
I met the Spirit of the Spring,
With her great eyes lit of Love.
She took me gently by the hand,
And whispered in my anxious ear
Secrets none may understand,
Till she make their meaning clear:
And whispered in my anxious ear
Secrets none may understand,
Till she make their meaning clear:
“Why the primrose looks so pale;
Why the rose is set with thorns;
Why the magic nightingale
Through the darkness mourns and mourns.”
Why the rose is set with thorns;
Why the magic nightingale
Through the darkness mourns and mourns.”
She ceased: a leafy murmur sighed
Softly through the listening trees.
Anon she uttered, eager-eyed,
These her joyful mysteries:
Softly through the listening trees.
Anon she uttered, eager-eyed,
These her joyful mysteries:
170
“How the angels, as they pass
With their vesture pure and white
O'er the shadowy garden grass,
Touch the lilies into light:
With their vesture pure and white
O'er the shadowy garden grass,
Touch the lilies into light:
“Or with hidden hands of love
Guide the throstle's wavering wings,
But show their faces bright above,
Only where the skylark sings.”
Guide the throstle's wavering wings,
But show their faces bright above,
Only where the skylark sings.”
171
THE REJECTED LOVER.
On Innisfallen's fairy isle,
Amid the blooming bushes,
We leant upon the lover's stile,
And listened to the thrushes;
When first I sighed to see her smile,
And smiled to see her blushes.
Amid the blooming bushes,
We leant upon the lover's stile,
And listened to the thrushes;
When first I sighed to see her smile,
And smiled to see her blushes.
Her hair was bright as beaten gold,
And soft as spider's spinning;
Her cheek out-bloomed the apple old
That set our parents sinning;
And in her eyes you might behold
My joys and griefs beginning.
And soft as spider's spinning;
Her cheek out-bloomed the apple old
That set our parents sinning;
And in her eyes you might behold
My joys and griefs beginning.
In Innisfallen's fairy grove
I hushed my happy wooing,
To listen to the brooding dove
Amid the branches cooing;
But oh! how short those hours of love,
How long their bitter rueing!
I hushed my happy wooing,
To listen to the brooding dove
Amid the branches cooing;
But oh! how short those hours of love,
How long their bitter rueing!
172
Poor cushat thy complaining breast
With woe like mine is heaving;
With thee I mourn a fruitless quest,
For ah! with art deceiving,
The cuckoo-bird has robbed my nest,
And left me wildly grieving.
With woe like mine is heaving;
With thee I mourn a fruitless quest,
For ah! with art deceiving,
The cuckoo-bird has robbed my nest,
And left me wildly grieving.
173
THE BEAUTIFUL BAY.
A CADENCE OF KENMARE RIVER.
I lifted mine eyes and beheld him lying, that Harper old, on the green sea-grass,And I said in my heart, “I will rise and seek a lonelier spot, O mother dear;
For this thy sea and these thy woods, and those thy violet hills and vales,
At the coming of others, estrange from my soul all their low, sweet communings.”
So I arose. Now he spake no word, but he glanced a glance, and his spirit met mine,
And swifter than speech, and surer far, thus he answered my secret thought.
“Avoid not! I hush not her rich revealings, for I am hers, aye, even as thou;
Avoid not, for surely she drew us together, her dearest children, for only this,—
To breathe to us both some tenderer tidings than ever she whispered each soul
apart.”
174
And I knew, by the ruddy rose of his cheek, and the full, white flower of his flowing hair,
A son, indeed, of Nature's love. I looked, and I loved him for her sake,
And returned again to my seat in silence, and side by side on the soft sea-grass,
With the bluest blue of heaven above us, we sat at gaze on the Beautiful Bay.
Gazing, gazing, oh delight! for the sea-turn blew from the ocean beyond,
And ever before his full, sweet voice the Arbutus Islands, for utter joy,
Shivered in every sparkling leaf, and called, “He comes!” to the wooing waves.
And these leaped back with a silver laugh, and cried it to all of their crystal clan,
And the white smile spread, and hither and thither, with dark, swift fingers pointed to shore
The wind-flaws darted o'er the dreaming azure, and the ripples danced after in a diamond dance,
And nearer and nearer the rapture ran, till the cool air kissed on the craving cheek.
175
Now the Sea had risen, and wrestled and lost and wrestled and won with the struggling Shore
For the golden spoils they win and lose with the Moon above for arbitress;
Till only one thin, red torque remained for Ocean's triumphant conquesting.
Then the sea-turn fluttered with fainting wings, fluttered, fluttered, failed, and fell;
And the Sun strode down from mountain to mountain, kissing their foreheads with his farewell kiss
To a happy rose that flushed through heaven, and thrilled and trembled out of sight.
Then the sweet night fell, and the soft stars shone, and we sang, “Good night!” to the Beautiful Bay.
176
AMBROSE AND UNA.
It was the good Sir Ambrose
Came spurring to the sea,
And to woo the beauteous Una
From his castle high rode he.
Came spurring to the sea,
And to woo the beauteous Una
From his castle high rode he.
They plighted their troth together,
And sealed it with seals of gold,
But a month and a day thereafter
The good knight slept in the mould.
And sealed it with seals of gold,
But a month and a day thereafter
The good knight slept in the mould.
Now, alas! for the Lady Una,
She made such bitter moan
That the dead Sir Ambrose heard her
From his grave in the churchyard lone.
She made such bitter moan
That the dead Sir Ambrose heard her
From his grave in the churchyard lone.
Up rose the dead Sir Ambrose,
All in his shroud of white,
And to his true love's bower
Stole softly through the night.
All in his shroud of white,
And to his true love's bower
Stole softly through the night.
177
He tapped at his true love's bower,
With his hand so long and thin;
“I pray thee, dearest Una,
Let thy loving bridegroom in.”
With his hand so long and thin;
“I pray thee, dearest Una,
Let thy loving bridegroom in.”
But his dear lady answered,
“I cannot ope the door
Till Jesu's name thou namest,
As thou wast wont before.”
“I cannot ope the door
Till Jesu's name thou namest,
As thou wast wont before.”
“Rise, oh! rise, dear Una,
Nor fear to unbar the door;
I can name the blessed Jesu
As I was wont before.”
Nor fear to unbar the door;
I can name the blessed Jesu
As I was wont before.”
Up rose the weeping Una,
And her bower opened wide,
And the dead Sir Ambrose entered
And sat by her bedside.
And her bower opened wide,
And the dead Sir Ambrose entered
And sat by her bedside.
With her golden comb his true love
Combed out his tresses dear,
And each fair lock, as she kissed it,
She bathed with the bitter tear.
Combed out his tresses dear,
And each fair lock, as she kissed it,
She bathed with the bitter tear.
178
And “Oh! tell me, dearest Ambrose,
By thy Una's love,” she said,
“How fares it since they laid thee
In thy dark and lonesome bed?”
By thy Una's love,” she said,
“How fares it since they laid thee
In thy dark and lonesome bed?”
“Whenever thy sorrow, Una,
Is soothed in sacred prayer,
Forthwith my gloomy coffin
Is filled with roses fair.
Is soothed in sacred prayer,
Forthwith my gloomy coffin
Is filled with roses fair.
“But whenever, oh! my Una,
Thy grief is wild and loud,
Those soft and fragrant roses
Turn to tears upon my shroud.
Thy grief is wild and loud,
Those soft and fragrant roses
Turn to tears upon my shroud.
“Dost hear the red cock crowing?
I must no longer stay;
'Tis the hour the churchyard claims us,
The sad hour before the day.”
I must no longer stay;
'Tis the hour the churchyard claims us,
The sad hour before the day.”
So the good Sir Ambrose turned him,
Deep sighing from the door,
And to the lonely churchyard
Went silently once more.
Deep sighing from the door,
And to the lonely churchyard
Went silently once more.
179
But Una followed after,
And clasped her true love's hand,
And forth they fared together
To the dark and dreadful land.
And clasped her true love's hand,
And forth they fared together
To the dark and dreadful land.
They could not speak for sorrow;
The grave too soon was nigh;
And Sir Ambrose' fair hair faded
As flames to ashes die.
The grave too soon was nigh;
And Sir Ambrose' fair hair faded
As flames to ashes die.
Till, as they stood together,
Where the dead man's tomb was made,
Whilst his cheeks grew wan and hollow,
Sir Ambrose faintly said:
Where the dead man's tomb was made,
Whilst his cheeks grew wan and hollow,
Sir Ambrose faintly said:
“Look up to the sky, my Una,
For my moments swiftly fail;
Look up and tell me truly
Is this the dawning pale?”
For my moments swiftly fail;
Look up and tell me truly
Is this the dawning pale?”
She turned her sad face from him
Toward the coming light,
When straight the good Sir Ambrose
Softly melted from her sight.
Toward the coming light,
When straight the good Sir Ambrose
Softly melted from her sight.
180
To her bower went poor Una,
And prayed to Jesu blest,
That ere the year was over
She, too, might be at rest.
And prayed to Jesu blest,
That ere the year was over
She, too, might be at rest.
But the month and the day thereafter
Upon her bier she lay,
And now, with good Sir Ambrose,
Awaits the Judgment Day.
Upon her bier she lay,
And now, with good Sir Ambrose,
Awaits the Judgment Day.
181
ORPHEUS TO PLUTO.
Oh Thou, whom alone of Immortals
But to name is a fear among men,
Through the gloom of whose terrible portals
Is no turning again,
When, ghost after ghost, to thy regions
Unlovely to flee we are fain,
As the wild winter-swans flock in legions
Remote o'er the main!
But to name is a fear among men,
Through the gloom of whose terrible portals
Is no turning again,
When, ghost after ghost, to thy regions
Unlovely to flee we are fain,
As the wild winter-swans flock in legions
Remote o'er the main!
I come not with insult Titanic
To thy consort Tityosas came,
Whom to Lust, a perpetual panic,
Thy retributive flame
At her feet laid immense in his anguish;
Nor clothed on with Herakles' might,
Am I here thy Three-headed to vanquish,
Dread Monarch of Night!
To thy consort Tityosas came,
Whom to Lust, a perpetual panic,
Thy retributive flame
At her feet laid immense in his anguish;
Nor clothed on with Herakles' might,
Am I here thy Three-headed to vanquish,
Dread Monarch of Night!
182
I, alas, am that Orpheus ill-fortuned,
Who with song, in his pleasant youth flown,
Wooed flowers from waste places, importuned
Clear streams from the stone;
And with magic maturer united
Man to man in the graces of art,
Till Eros drew bow, and delighted
Two souls with his smart.
Who with song, in his pleasant youth flown,
Wooed flowers from waste places, importuned
Clear streams from the stone;
And with magic maturer united
Man to man in the graces of art,
Till Eros drew bow, and delighted
Two souls with his smart.
Spring sisterly smiled on my wooing,
Summer motherly welcomed my wife;
But a foe, Autumn entered, subduing
All sweetness of life.
For alas, like a pure lily-blossom
Transfixed by the brier of the brake,
She has fallen, the bride of my bosom,
A spoil to the snake—
Summer motherly welcomed my wife;
But a foe, Autumn entered, subduing
All sweetness of life.
For alas, like a pure lily-blossom
Transfixed by the brier of the brake,
She has fallen, the bride of my bosom,
A spoil to the snake—
Evil beast, that for slaughter lay slunken
Subtle-eyed at the shadowy ford,
What time, scarce escaped from the drunken
Unchaste Honey-Lord,
Up the slope of the Hebrus she hurried,
Witless quite of a new foe beneath,
Till his fangs in her fair flesh he buried—
The darter of Death.
Subtle-eyed at the shadowy ford,
What time, scarce escaped from the drunken
Unchaste Honey-Lord,
Up the slope of the Hebrus she hurried,
Witless quite of a new foe beneath,
183
The darter of Death.
Grief-distraught by her side on the morrow,
With rent raiment and locks dust-defiled,
Low I lay, till there stole on my sorrow
The voice of a child.
“Take comfort, sad son of Apollo!
Arise, nothing fearing, and lay
Thy hand to thy lute-strings, and follow,
For Love leads the way.”
With rent raiment and locks dust-defiled,
Low I lay, till there stole on my sorrow
The voice of a child.
“Take comfort, sad son of Apollo!
Arise, nothing fearing, and lay
Thy hand to thy lute-strings, and follow,
For Love leads the way.”
From the corse my despairful clasp sunders;
Hope-flushed the dear harp I invade;
Earth shakes at the sound, the air thunders,
And the deeps are dismayed.
Yea! the Day Sire above thee, thy brother,
Tellus old, and the Lord of the Main,
Weird laughter with strange sighings smother,
Mirth with moanings of pain;
Hope-flushed the dear harp I invade;
Earth shakes at the sound, the air thunders,
And the deeps are dismayed.
Yea! the Day Sire above thee, thy brother,
Tellus old, and the Lord of the Main,
Weird laughter with strange sighings smother,
Mirth with moanings of pain;
Whilst a God to thine awful dominion
Greatly guided my feet from above,
The All-wise, All-pervasive-of-pinion,
Omnipotent Love!
On we fared! Orcus opened to list us!
On we fared! Death herself dropped a tear!
Charon, Cerberus, may not resist us,
And unharmed we are here.
Greatly guided my feet from above,
The All-wise, All-pervasive-of-pinion,
Omnipotent Love!
184
On we fared! Death herself dropped a tear!
Charon, Cerberus, may not resist us,
And unharmed we are here.
Now, O King, for the cause of our mission
Thou hast heard; knowing also the worth
Of the lost one, at Love's own petition
Redeem her to earth!—
Love, who steered thy black steeds to the meadows
Of Enna, and won thee the bride,
Who now queens it o'er congregate shadows,
Enthroned at thy side!—
Love, the ally, through whom thou prolongest
Bliss supreme in these joyless abodes!
Love! Love! still the weakest, the strongest,
Eldest, youngest of Gods!
Thou hast heard; knowing also the worth
Of the lost one, at Love's own petition
Redeem her to earth!—
Love, who steered thy black steeds to the meadows
Of Enna, and won thee the bride,
Who now queens it o'er congregate shadows,
Enthroned at thy side!—
Love, the ally, through whom thou prolongest
Bliss supreme in these joyless abodes!
Love! Love! still the weakest, the strongest,
Eldest, youngest of Gods!
185
SONG: TO E. P.
When our little Queen was born,
Winter first with furious pother
Flew to fix his icy scorn
On the infant and the mother.
Winter first with furious pother
Flew to fix his icy scorn
On the infant and the mother.
But in such a loving fashion
Side by side he found them laid,
That to pity all his passion
Melting quite, he softly said:
Side by side he found them laid,
That to pity all his passion
Melting quite, he softly said:
“Child and mother sleep unharmed!
See how vanquished by your beauty
Winter's dreadful self disarmed
Kneels to do you dearest duty.”
See how vanquished by your beauty
Winter's dreadful self disarmed
Kneels to do you dearest duty.”
Then a courser blast bestriding,
Winter waved his wild adieu,
And the gentle spring came guiding
To the couch her zephyrs blue.
Winter waved his wild adieu,
And the gentle spring came guiding
To the couch her zephyrs blue.
186
Leaning there, the imperial maid,
From the crystal car that bore her,
Lightly her flower-sceptre laid
On the lovely babe before her,
From the crystal car that bore her,
Lightly her flower-sceptre laid
On the lovely babe before her,
Whisp'ring, “Since thy wiles have driven
Winter from my budding bowers,
Every grace I e'er have given,
Mortal maiden, shall be yours.
Winter from my budding bowers,
Every grace I e'er have given,
Mortal maiden, shall be yours.
“See! I touch with violets two
Lisa's lids, in token tender
Of the eyes of modest blue
That shall most enchantment lend her.
Lisa's lids, in token tender
Of the eyes of modest blue
That shall most enchantment lend her.
“Next I lay these mountain daisies,
Clustering close with crimson tips
Round their petals' pearly graces,
For a sign on Lisa's lips.
Clustering close with crimson tips
Round their petals' pearly graces,
For a sign on Lisa's lips.
“Now her tiny cheek I tint
With this trailing apple blossom,
And these snowdrops for a hint
Drop into her dainty bosom.
With this trailing apple blossom,
And these snowdrops for a hint
Drop into her dainty bosom.
187
“Last for Lisa's heart this pansy!”
Here she stooped and whispering spoke,
Ere she sped, so fond a fancy
That our Lisa smiling woke.
Here she stooped and whispering spoke,
Ere she sped, so fond a fancy
That our Lisa smiling woke.
188
CHOOSING A PROFESSION.
“When Robin's a big man, what will wee Robin be?”
So he peeped, half afraid,
From the cozy little nest that in mother's gown he'd made,
Our plump, rosy Robin, he peeped out and said:
“A sailor I will be,
To sail upon the sea,
But papa and mamma, won't you sail along with me?”
So he peeped, half afraid,
From the cozy little nest that in mother's gown he'd made,
Our plump, rosy Robin, he peeped out and said:
“A sailor I will be,
To sail upon the sea,
But papa and mamma, won't you sail along with me?”
“No! the captain of the ship wouldn't let mamma sail,
He'd only take me.”
“Then oh! what a cruel man the captain must be,
Not to take my dear mamma to sail upon the sea.
So, papa, I'll be instead,
A soldier all in red,
With a sword in my hand and a helmet on my head—
He'd only take me.”
“Then oh! what a cruel man the captain must be,
Not to take my dear mamma to sail upon the sea.
So, papa, I'll be instead,
A soldier all in red,
With a sword in my hand and a helmet on my head—
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“And I'll fight, fight, fight, for papa and for mamma.”
“But if you were killed?” “Then I'd fly
Far away above the clouds O, so, so high,
Till I came to our Father on his throne in the sky,
And ask to be instead
Of a soldier all in red,
An angel all in white to keep watch beside your bed.”
“But if you were killed?” “Then I'd fly
Far away above the clouds O, so, so high,
Till I came to our Father on his throne in the sky,
And ask to be instead
Of a soldier all in red,
An angel all in white to keep watch beside your bed.”
190
MYRTILLA.
Myrtilla boasts a marble brow
By ebon tresses softly swept,
Myrtilla's mouth is Cupid's bow
In rosy nectar newly dipped,
And heaven's own azure lights her eyes,
Her cheek bids roses blush in vain;
Say, shall the lovely nymph surprise
This bosom with her conquering chain?
By ebon tresses softly swept,
Myrtilla's mouth is Cupid's bow
In rosy nectar newly dipped,
And heaven's own azure lights her eyes,
Her cheek bids roses blush in vain;
Say, shall the lovely nymph surprise
This bosom with her conquering chain?
Nay, I mistrust the studied skill
That twines her tresses' silken snare;
The honied sigh her lips distil
Is heaved with too consummate care;
Her eyes, with all too amorous art,
Now shun, and now upon me shine;
Too well thou hast rehearsed thy part,
Myrtilla, ever to be mine!
That twines her tresses' silken snare;
The honied sigh her lips distil
Is heaved with too consummate care;
Her eyes, with all too amorous art,
Now shun, and now upon me shine;
Too well thou hast rehearsed thy part,
Myrtilla, ever to be mine!
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LOVE'S SURPRISE.
He sang as he lay on Mangerton mountain,
That Irish knight who had never known love,
“What song so sweet as the chiming fountain?
What blue so blue as the heaven above?”
Fond heart! for nearer and nearer drew
A sweeter voice and an eye more blue.
That Irish knight who had never known love,
“What song so sweet as the chiming fountain?
What blue so blue as the heaven above?”
Fond heart! for nearer and nearer drew
A sweeter voice and an eye more blue.
“O what can blush by the purple heather?
What gold with the gorse-flower dare compare?”
He turned, fond heart, and found them together,
On her glowing cheek and her glittering hair.
Now what for the knight are the hill-flower's dyes,
The fountain's voice and the sapphire skies?
What gold with the gorse-flower dare compare?”
He turned, fond heart, and found them together,
On her glowing cheek and her glittering hair.
Now what for the knight are the hill-flower's dyes,
The fountain's voice and the sapphire skies?
She had lost her path, that lovely lady,
Whose heart had never a lord confessed;
O bright she blushed, and gently prayed he
Would guide her over the mountain crest;
And little loth was the gallant knight
To squire the steps of that lady bright.
Whose heart had never a lord confessed;
O bright she blushed, and gently prayed he
Would guide her over the mountain crest;
And little loth was the gallant knight
To squire the steps of that lady bright.
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So he took her hand, and they passed together,
The knight and the lady unlearned of love,
Through the golden gorse and the purple heather—
O laughingly beamed the blue above,
And the fountain sang as their feet went by,
The sibyl fountain, “For aye, for aye.”
The knight and the lady unlearned of love,
Through the golden gorse and the purple heather—
O laughingly beamed the blue above,
And the fountain sang as their feet went by,
The sibyl fountain, “For aye, for aye.”
193
AMŒBÆAN.
He.The sky has lost the happy lustre
It borrowed from her azure eyes,
The unruly winds around me bluster,
Unsoftened by her balmy sighs,
And for my true love's loss alone
The thronging town 's a desert grown.
She.
Along the glen and o'er the heather,
With spring's return once more I stray
Through scenes where oft we've roved together
At rosy dawn and gloaming grey;
But all these former haunts of bliss,
Love, without thee their beauty miss!
He.
By arch triumphal, lordly tower,
With thoughts like these I soothe my way—
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With wreaths of living roses gay?
And piles superb, and courtly hall,
For her sweet cot I'd change you all.”
She.
Now blooms each freshest, fairest blossom,
By woodland wild and garden wall,
Yet pressed unto this aching bosom,
These faint blue stars are worth them all.
For being too sad to speak the thought,
With these he sighed, “Forget me not.”
He.
In art supreme, around us, o'er us,
Sweet Southern voices rise and float,
Or swells sublime the lofty chorus,
Or dies on one voluptuous note—
But how can mimic transports move,
After her unfeigned words of love?
She.
Let skylarks spring to meet the morrow
With lays of jubilant delight,
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Most passionate plead the livelong night:
If of sweet music I have choice,
Waft me one echo of his voice.
He.
Oh! what are city pomp and pride,
If Celia be not by my side?
She.
Oh! would that I my way might win
To that sweet town he sojourns in!
196
LOVE'S SONG.
Love is a boundless bliss:
All they who share it
With lover's look and lover's kiss,
Surely shall declare it.
All they who share it
With lover's look and lover's kiss,
Surely shall declare it.
Love is a precious pain:
No skill can heal it,
When they who sigh but sigh in vain
In their hearts conceal it.
No skill can heal it,
When they who sigh but sigh in vain
In their hearts conceal it.
Love with the crown of life
His king and queen covers,
When gallant man and gentle wife
Still are steadfast lovers.
His king and queen covers,
When gallant man and gentle wife
Still are steadfast lovers.
Ah! and when envious Death
One life shall smother,
Love with his willow-wreath
Crowns that constant other.
One life shall smother,
Love with his willow-wreath
Crowns that constant other.
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Young men and maids, for love
Seek, till ye find it,
And having found, win Heaven above
About your hearts to bind it.
Seek, till ye find it,
And having found, win Heaven above
About your hearts to bind it.
198
COMPANIONS.
Smile farewell to Sorrow:
Give to Joy good-morrow:
And charge him to continue
A quiet reign within you.
Give to Joy good-morrow:
And charge him to continue
A quiet reign within you.
Smile farewell to Gladness,
Take the hand of Sadness,
And wistfully beseech her
To be your tender teacher.
Take the hand of Sadness,
And wistfully beseech her
To be your tender teacher.
So shall both befriend you,
And to the grave attend you;
There Sorrow from you sever,
Joy go with you ever.
And to the grave attend you;
There Sorrow from you sever,
Joy go with you ever.
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GOOD NIGHT.
Good night! good night! our feast is ended,
By young and old with smiles attended;
Where Wit and Worth and Beauty blended,
To speed the hours with dance and song.
Beauty's smile
Free from guile,
Wit that shone
Wounding none:
And manly Worth and Woman true,
Good night! and joy go home with you.
By young and old with smiles attended;
Where Wit and Worth and Beauty blended,
To speed the hours with dance and song.
Beauty's smile
Free from guile,
Wit that shone
Wounding none:
And manly Worth and Woman true,
Good night! and joy go home with you.
Good night! and may your minstrel's numbers
Still echo on amid your slumbers,
To spell-bind every care that cumbers
The lover's heart, the mother's breast.
Beauty, Mirth,
Wit and Worth
Fall to sleep
Calm and deep,
Nor rouse, till rosy Morrow call,
“Awake, and joy go with you all!”
Still echo on amid your slumbers,
To spell-bind every care that cumbers
The lover's heart, the mother's breast.
Beauty, Mirth,
Wit and Worth
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Calm and deep,
Nor rouse, till rosy Morrow call,
“Awake, and joy go with you all!”
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