 | Poems and Songs by E. H. B. [i.e. E. H. Bickersteth] |  |
52
TO JULIET.
“O blessed, blessed night.
All this is but a dream I hear and see;
Too flattering sweet to be substantial.”—
Shakespeare.
All this is but a dream I hear and see;
Too flattering sweet to be substantial.”—
Shakespeare.
I.
Ah! why dost gaze with eyes of melting lightOn yon cold moon—some moments' space so bright?
Dost thou deplore that am'rous clouds should veil
Her chastened beams, and dim her lustre pale,
Seeking this earth? or is it that thy breast
Some thought oppresses with a sad unrest—
Some demon-phantom haunting fancy flings
Across thy weary path which poisons as it clings?
II.
No more black night Cimerean empire holds—Her queen appears—the gathering cloud unfolds.
Fair maiden, pause, and look again on high;
The silvery beacon floats along the sky,
And all is beauty, majesty, and peace.
Hushed be thy soul, the voice of passion cease;
No longer heed dire omens' mystic pow'r,
The gloomy night, the dim uncertain hour.
Some pleasure waits thee with Aurora's light;
Those tears may not be shed, tinging thy cheeks with blight.
| Poems and Songs by E. H. B. [i.e. E. H. Bickersteth] | |