Lyrics of the heart With other poems. By Alaric A. Watts. With forty-one engravings on steel |
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TO NINE SISTERS. |
 | Lyrics of the heart |  |
1
TO NINE SISTERS.
Let other bards their homage pay
To Sisters all have dubbed “divine;”
A love sincerer prompts my lay,
To hymn a less immortal Nine.
What hath my humble lyre to do
With goddesses too fine for earth,
Whose simple music ever drew
Its power from spells of lowlier birth!
To Sisters all have dubbed “divine;”
A love sincerer prompts my lay,
To hymn a less immortal Nine.
What hath my humble lyre to do
With goddesses too fine for earth,
Whose simple music ever drew
Its power from spells of lowlier birth!
2
A wild, Æolian lute, whose strings,
By nature swayed, no sounds impart,
Save when some fitful feeling flings
Its breeze-like impulse o'er my heart;
But waking gentle echoes oft,
Where prouder strains might fail to move;—
Fond, brooding thoughts, and visions soft,
Of fireside peace, and home-bred love.
By nature swayed, no sounds impart,
Save when some fitful feeling flings
Its breeze-like impulse o'er my heart;
But waking gentle echoes oft,
Where prouder strains might fail to move;—
Fond, brooding thoughts, and visions soft,
Of fireside peace, and home-bred love.
In years long past, when life was new,
Ere Time or Care had touched my brow,
My carliest songs were given to you;
Come back and be my Muses now!—
Now that my heart is faint and worn
With many a vigil dark and long,
And I have learned those hues to mourn
That brightened once my hopes and song.
Ere Time or Care had touched my brow,
My carliest songs were given to you;
Come back and be my Muses now!—
Now that my heart is faint and worn
With many a vigil dark and long,
And I have learned those hues to mourn
That brightened once my hopes and song.
The smiles that lit my path of yore,
And bade my lyre responsive thrill,
May plume my flagging wing once more,
May raise my drooping spirit still:
Oh, could that sunshine bring again
The high resolves my boyhood knew,
Haply, I then might 'wake a strain
Worthier a poet's fame and you!
And bade my lyre responsive thrill,
May plume my flagging wing once more,
May raise my drooping spirit still:
Oh, could that sunshine bring again
The high resolves my boyhood knew,
Haply, I then might 'wake a strain
Worthier a poet's fame and you!
3
The bounding pulse, ingenuous glee,
That spring-like, rich, romantic gleam,
Which tinges every thing we see,
And makes our youth one blessed dream,—
A summer day, of deep delight,
When not a threatening cloud is near,
When all is beauty to the sight,
And all is music to the ear!
That spring-like, rich, romantic gleam,
Which tinges every thing we see,
And makes our youth one blessed dream,—
A summer day, of deep delight,
When not a threatening cloud is near,
When all is beauty to the sight,
And all is music to the ear!
And such my life when Hope was young,
And the bright world before me lay,
And visions of enchantment flung
Their glories on my lonely way.
Yes, such was life to me, when first,
Inspired by you my gentlest Nine,
Fresh from the fount of feeling burst
The strains that wreathed your names with mine!
And the bright world before me lay,
And visions of enchantment flung
Their glories on my lonely way.
Yes, such was life to me, when first,
Inspired by you my gentlest Nine,
Fresh from the fount of feeling burst
The strains that wreathed your names with mine!
Ye, too, are changed: the playful child,
My Muse of mirth in other days,
That bade me share her gambols wild,
And charmed me with her winning ways,—
Is now a child no more;—but moves
With slower step, sedater air;
With many a grace her Poet loves,
But not the smiles she used to wear.
My Muse of mirth in other days,
That bade me share her gambols wild,
And charmed me with her winning ways,—
Is now a child no more;—but moves
With slower step, sedater air;
With many a grace her Poet loves,
But not the smiles she used to wear.
4
And ye, o'erstepping then the bound
'Twixt girlhood's bloom and woman's beauty,
Whose hearts the hallowed bliss have found
Of matron love, and matron duty,—
Long o'er your happy circles reign,
And watch love's budding flowers unfold;
But never can you be again
The gladsome band you were of old!
'Twixt girlhood's bloom and woman's beauty,
Whose hearts the hallowed bliss have found
Of matron love, and matron duty,—
Long o'er your happy circles reign,
And watch love's budding flowers unfold;
But never can you be again
The gladsome band you were of old!
Yet ye shall be my Muses still,
By Memory painted as of yore;
Still shall my harp responsive thrill
To spells it oft hath owned before:
The meeter inspiration far
Those unambitious chords to move,
Whose cherished themes so often are
Childhood's sweet smiles, and Woman's love.
By Memory painted as of yore;
Still shall my harp responsive thrill
To spells it oft hath owned before:
The meeter inspiration far
Those unambitious chords to move,
Whose cherished themes so often are
Childhood's sweet smiles, and Woman's love.
Let loftier bards their tributes bring
To nymphs of more uncertain mood;
Whilst grateful memory bids me sing
A fairer, kinder Sisterhood:
For them may Faith's bright beacon shine;
Its grace in God's good time be given;
So shall they shame the heathen Nine,
And be immortal, too, in heaven!
To nymphs of more uncertain mood;
Whilst grateful memory bids me sing
A fairer, kinder Sisterhood:
For them may Faith's bright beacon shine;
Its grace in God's good time be given;
So shall they shame the heathen Nine,
And be immortal, too, in heaven!
| Lyrics of the heart | |