 | The Works of Thomas Love Peacock |  |
202
REMEMBER ME
E tu, chi sa se mai
Ti sovverrai di me?
Metastasio.
Ti sovverrai di me?
Metastasio.
And what are Hope's enchanting dreams,
That melt, like morning mists, away?
And what are Fancy's golden beams,
That glow with transitory day?
While adverse stars my steps impel,
To climes remote, my love, from thee,
Will that dear breast with pity swell,
And wilt thou still remember me?
That melt, like morning mists, away?
And what are Fancy's golden beams,
That glow with transitory day?
While adverse stars my steps impel,
To climes remote, my love, from thee,
Will that dear breast with pity swell,
And wilt thou still remember me?
Alas! I hoped, from Britain's shore
My wayward feet would never rove:
I hoped to share my little store,
With thee, my first, my only love!
No more those hopes my breast elate:
No more thy lovely form I see:
But thou wilt mourn thy wanderer's fate,
And thou wilt still remember me.
My wayward feet would never rove:
I hoped to share my little store,
With thee, my first, my only love!
No more those hopes my breast elate:
No more thy lovely form I see:
But thou wilt mourn thy wanderer's fate,
And thou wilt still remember me.
When twilight-shades the world o'erhung,
Oft hast thou loved with me to stray,
While Philomela sweetly sung
The dirge of the departing day.
But when our cherished meads and bowers
Thy solitary haunts shall be,
Oh! then recall those blissful hours;
Oh! then, my love, remember me!
Oft hast thou loved with me to stray,
While Philomela sweetly sung
The dirge of the departing day.
But when our cherished meads and bowers
Thy solitary haunts shall be,
Oh! then recall those blissful hours;
Oh! then, my love, remember me!
203
When Spring shall bid the forest live,
And clothe the hills and vales with green;
Or Summer's ripening hand shall give
New beauties to the sylvan scene;
Reflect, that thus my prospects smiled,
Till changed by Fortune's stern decree:
And wintry storms, severe and wild,
Shall bid thee still remember me.
And clothe the hills and vales with green;
Or Summer's ripening hand shall give
New beauties to the sylvan scene;
Reflect, that thus my prospects smiled,
Till changed by Fortune's stern decree:
And wintry storms, severe and wild,
Shall bid thee still remember me.
For wintry storms have overcast
And blighted all my hopes of joy:
Vain joys of life, so quickly past!
Vain hopes, that clouds so soon destroy!
Around us cares and dangers grow:
Between us rolls the restless sea:
Yet this one thought shall sooth my woe,
That thou wilt still remember me.
And blighted all my hopes of joy:
Vain joys of life, so quickly past!
Vain hopes, that clouds so soon destroy!
Around us cares and dangers grow:
Between us rolls the restless sea:
Yet this one thought shall sooth my woe,
That thou wilt still remember me.
And when, thy natal shades among,
While noon-tide rays their fervors shower,
The poet's sadly-pleasing song
Shall charm thy melancholy hour;
When Zephyr, rustling in the grove,
Sighs feebly through the spreading tree,
Think 'tis the whispering voice of love,
And pity, and remember me!
While noon-tide rays their fervors shower,
The poet's sadly-pleasing song
Shall charm thy melancholy hour;
When Zephyr, rustling in the grove,
Sighs feebly through the spreading tree,
Think 'tis the whispering voice of love,
And pity, and remember me!
Remember me, when morning's call
Shall bid thee leave thy lonely bed:
Remember me, when evening-fall
Shall tinge the skies with blushing red:
Remember me, when midnight sleep
Shall set excursive Fancy free;
And should'st thou wake, and wake to weep,
Still, in thy tears, remember me.
Shall bid thee leave thy lonely bed:
Remember me, when evening-fall
Shall tinge the skies with blushing red:
204
Shall set excursive Fancy free;
And should'st thou wake, and wake to weep,
Still, in thy tears, remember me.
Farewell, my love! the paths of truth,
The paths of happiness pursue:
But ever mindful of the youth,
Who loved thee with a flame so true.
And though to thy transcendent form
Admiring courts should bow the knee,
Still be thy breast with pity warm,
Still, still, my love, remember me!
The paths of happiness pursue:
But ever mindful of the youth,
Who loved thee with a flame so true.
And though to thy transcendent form
Admiring courts should bow the knee,
Still be thy breast with pity warm,
Still, still, my love, remember me!
| The Works of Thomas Love Peacock | |