Song VI. THE IMPASSIONED WAVE.
[_]
[Tune—“Thomon um Though.”]
1
'Tis sweet upon the impassion'd wave
To hear the voice of music stealing,
And while the dark winds wildly rave,
To catch the genuine soul of feeling!
While all around, the ether blue
Its dim, majestic beam is shedding,
And roseate tints of heavenly hue
Are through the midnight darkness spreading!
2
So is it when the thrill of love
Through every burning pulse is flowing;
And like the foliage of the grove,
A holy light on all bestowing!
O! never from this fever'd heart
Shall dreams on wings of gold be flying;
But e'en when life itself shall part,
I'll think on thee, sweet maid, though dying!
3
'Twas thus, upon the mountain's height,
Young Dermod sung his plaint of sorrow,
Regardless of the evening light,
That ushers in the gay to-morrow!
For love had of his cheek bereft
That smile—that glow—of joyous gladness,
And sympathy's cold sting had left
Nought there—but pale and gloomy sadness!
