Lyrics of the heart With other poems. By Alaric A. Watts. With forty-one engravings on steel |
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THE BACHELOR'S DILEMMA. |
 | Lyrics of the heart |  |
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THE BACHELOR'S DILEMMA.
By all the sweet saints in the Missal of Love,
They are both so intensely, bewitchingly fair,
That, let Folly look solemn, and Wisdom reprove,
I can't make up my mind which to choose of the pair.
They are both so intensely, bewitchingly fair,
That, let Folly look solemn, and Wisdom reprove,
I can't make up my mind which to choose of the pair.
There is Fanny, whose eye is as blue and as bright
As the depths of spring skies in their noontide array;
Whose every soft feature is gleaming in light,
Like the ripple of waves on a sunshiny day:
As the depths of spring skies in their noontide array;
Whose every soft feature is gleaming in light,
Like the ripple of waves on a sunshiny day:
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Whose form, like the willow, so slender and lithe,
Has a thousand wild motions of lightness and grace;
Whose innocent heart, ever buoyant and blithe,
Is the home of the sweetness that breathes from her face.
Has a thousand wild motions of lightness and grace;
Whose innocent heart, ever buoyant and blithe,
Is the home of the sweetness that breathes from her face.
There is Helen, more stately of gesture and mien,
Whose beauty a world of dark ringlets enshrouds;
With a black, regal eye, and the step of a queen,
And a brow like the moon breaking forth from the clouds:
Whose beauty a world of dark ringlets enshrouds;
With a black, regal eye, and the step of a queen,
And a brow like the moon breaking forth from the clouds:
With a bosom, whose chords are so tenderly strung,
That a word, nay a look, will awaken its sighs;
With a face, like the heart-searching tones of her tongue,
Full of music that charms both the simple and wise.
That a word, nay a look, will awaken its sighs;
With a face, like the heart-searching tones of her tongue,
Full of music that charms both the simple and wise.
In my moments of mirth, amid glitter and glee,
When my soul takes the hue that is brightest of any,
From her sister's enchantment my spirit is free,
And the bumper I quaff is a bumper to Fanny!
When my soul takes the hue that is brightest of any,
From her sister's enchantment my spirit is free,
And the bumper I quaff is a bumper to Fanny!
But, when shadows come o'er me of sickness or grief,
And my heart with a host of wild fancies is swelling,
From the blaze of her brightness I turn for relief
To the pensive and peace-breathing beauty of Helen!
And my heart with a host of wild fancies is swelling,
From the blaze of her brightness I turn for relief
To the pensive and peace-breathing beauty of Helen!
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“And when sorrow and joy are so blended together,
That to weep I'm unwilling, to smile am as loth;
When the beam may be kicked by the weight of a feather;
I would fain keep it even—by wedding them both!
That to weep I'm unwilling, to smile am as loth;
When the beam may be kicked by the weight of a feather;
I would fain keep it even—by wedding them both!
“But since I must fix or on black eyes or blue,
Quickly make up my mind 'twixt a Grace and a Muse;
Pr'ythee Venus, instruct me that course to pursue
Which even Paris himself had been puzzled to choose!”
Quickly make up my mind 'twixt a Grace and a Muse;
Pr'ythee Venus, instruct me that course to pursue
Which even Paris himself had been puzzled to choose!”
Thus murmured a Bard,—predetermined to marry;
But so equally charmed by a Muse and a Grace,
That though one of his suits might be doomed to miscarry,
He'd another he straight could prefer in its place.
But so equally charmed by a Muse and a Grace,
That though one of his suits might be doomed to miscarry,
He'd another he straight could prefer in its place.
So, trusting that ‘Fortune would favour the brave,’
He asked each in her turn, but they both said him nay;
Lively Fanny declared he was somewhat too grave,
And Saint Helen pronounced him a little too gay!
He asked each in her turn, but they both said him nay;
Lively Fanny declared he was somewhat too grave,
And Saint Helen pronounced him a little too gay!
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