 | Lyrical Ballads |  |
L E W T I ;
or,
The Circassian Love Chant
—
At midnight, by the stream I rov'd
To forget the form I lov'd.
Image of LEWTI! from my mind
Depart; for LEWTI is not kind.
The moon was high, the moonlight gleam,
And the shadow of a star
Heav'd upon Tamaha's stream;
But the rock shone brighter far.
The rock half-sheltered from my view,
By pendant boughs of tressy yew. —
So shines my LEWTI's forehead fair,
Gleaning thro' her sable hair.
Image of LEWTI! from my mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.
I saw a cloud of palest hue,
Onward to the moon it pass'd.
Still brighter and more bright it grew,
With floating colours not a few,
Till it reach'd the moon at last.
Then the cloud was wholly bright,
With a rich and amber light;
And with so many a hope I seek,
And with such joy I find my LEWTI;
And even so my pale wan cheek
Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty!
Nay, treach'rous image! leave my mind,
If LEWTI never will be kind.
The little cloud — it floats away,
Away it goes — away so soon!
Alas! it has no pow'r to stay:
Its hues are dim, its hues are grey —
Away it passes from the moon.
How mournfully it seems to fly,
Ever fading more and more,
To joyless regions of the sky —
And now 'tis whiter than before,
As white as my poor cheek will be,
When, LEWTI! on my couch I lie,
A dying man, for love of thee.
Nay, treach'rous image! leave my mind —
And yet thou didst not look unkind!
I saw a vapour in the sky,
Thin and white and very high.
I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud —
Perhaps the breezes that can fly
Now below, and now above,
Have snatch'd aloft the lawny shroud
Of lady fair, that died for love:
For Maids, as well as Youths, have perish'd
From fruitless love, too fondly cherish'd!
Nay treach'rous image! leave my mind —
For LEWTI never will be kind.
Hush! my heedless feet from under
Slip the crumbling banks for ever;
Like echoes to a distant thunder,
They plunge into the gentle river:
The river-swans have heard my tread,
And startle from their reedy bed.
O beauteous birds! 'tis such a pleasure
To see you move beneath the moon;
I would, it were your true delight
To sleep by day and wake all night.
I know the place where LEWTI lies,
When silent night has clos'd her eyes —
It is a breezy jasmin bow'r,
The Nightingale sings o'er her head;
Had I the enviable pow'r
To creep unseen with noiseless tread,
Then should I view her bosom white,
Heaving lovely to the sight,
As those two swans together heave
On the gently swelling wave.
O that she saw me in a dream,
And dreamt that I had died for care!
All pale and wasted I would seem,
Yet fair withal, as spirits are.
I'd die indeed, if I might see
Her bosom heave, and heave for me!
Soothe, gentle image! soothe my mind!
To-morrow LEWTI may be kind.
To forget the form I lov'd.
Image of LEWTI! from my mind
Depart; for LEWTI is not kind.
The moon was high, the moonlight gleam,
And the shadow of a star
Heav'd upon Tamaha's stream;
But the rock shone brighter far.
The rock half-sheltered from my view,
By pendant boughs of tressy yew. —
So shines my LEWTI's forehead fair,
Gleaning thro' her sable hair.
64
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.
I saw a cloud of palest hue,
Onward to the moon it pass'd.
Still brighter and more bright it grew,
With floating colours not a few,
Till it reach'd the moon at last.
Then the cloud was wholly bright,
With a rich and amber light;
And with so many a hope I seek,
And with such joy I find my LEWTI;
And even so my pale wan cheek
Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty!
Nay, treach'rous image! leave my mind,
If LEWTI never will be kind.
The little cloud — it floats away,
Away it goes — away so soon!
Alas! it has no pow'r to stay:
Its hues are dim, its hues are grey —
Away it passes from the moon.
65
Ever fading more and more,
To joyless regions of the sky —
And now 'tis whiter than before,
As white as my poor cheek will be,
When, LEWTI! on my couch I lie,
A dying man, for love of thee.
Nay, treach'rous image! leave my mind —
And yet thou didst not look unkind!
I saw a vapour in the sky,
Thin and white and very high.
I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud —
Perhaps the breezes that can fly
Now below, and now above,
Have snatch'd aloft the lawny shroud
Of lady fair, that died for love:
For Maids, as well as Youths, have perish'd
From fruitless love, too fondly cherish'd!
Nay treach'rous image! leave my mind —
For LEWTI never will be kind.
66
Slip the crumbling banks for ever;
Like echoes to a distant thunder,
They plunge into the gentle river:
The river-swans have heard my tread,
And startle from their reedy bed.
O beauteous birds! 'tis such a pleasure
To see you move beneath the moon;
I would, it were your true delight
To sleep by day and wake all night.
I know the place where LEWTI lies,
When silent night has clos'd her eyes —
It is a breezy jasmin bow'r,
The Nightingale sings o'er her head;
Had I the enviable pow'r
To creep unseen with noiseless tread,
Then should I view her bosom white,
Heaving lovely to the sight,
67
On the gently swelling wave.
O that she saw me in a dream,
And dreamt that I had died for care!
All pale and wasted I would seem,
Yet fair withal, as spirits are.
I'd die indeed, if I might see
Her bosom heave, and heave for me!
Soothe, gentle image! soothe my mind!
To-morrow LEWTI may be kind.
| Lyrical Ballads | |