Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub
[blocks in formation]
[merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

OH! COME TO ME WHEN DAYLIGHT SETS.
Venetian Air.

On! come to me when daylight sets;
Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets
O'er the moonlight sea.

When Mirth's awake, and Love begins,
Beneath that glancing ray,

With sound of lutes and mandolins,
To steal young hearts away.
Oh! come to me when daylight sets;
Sweet! then come to me,

When smoothly go our gondolets

O'er the moonlight sea.

Oh! then 's the hour for those who love,
Sweet! like thee and me;

When all 's so calm below, above,

In heaven and o'er the sea.

When maidens sing sweet barcarolles,
And Echo sings again

So sweet, that all with ears and souls

Should love and listen then.

So, come to me when daylight sets;
Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets
O'er the moonlight sea.

The thought in this verse is borrowed from the original Portuguese words.

2 Barcarolles, sorte de chansons en langue Vénitienne, que chantent les gondoliers à Venise.-ROUSSEAU, Dictionnaire de Musique.

OFT, IN THE STILLY NIGHT.

Scotch Air.

OFT, in the stilly night,

Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light

Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,

Of boyhood's years,

The words of love then spoken;

The eyes that shone,
Now dimm'd and gone,

The cheerful hearts now broken!

Thus, in the stilly night,

Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,

Sad Memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

When I remember all

The friends, so link'd together,
I've seen around me fall,

Like leaves in wintry weather;
I feel like one

Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garland 's dead,
And all but he departed!

Thus in the stilly night,

Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,

Sad Memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

« I go,» said Love, « to sail awhile Across this sunny main :>>

And then so sweet his parting smile, That Hope, who never dream'd of guile, Believed he 'd come again.

She linger'd there till evening's beam
Along the waters lay,

And o'er the sands, in thoughtful dream,
Oft traced his name, which still the stream
As often wash'd away.

At length a sail appears in sight,

And toward the maiden moves!

T is Wealth that comes; and gay and bright, His golden bark reflects the light,

But ah! it is not Love's.

Another sail-'t was Friendship show'd

Her night-lamp o'er the sea;

And calm the light that lamp bestow'd: But Love had lights that warmer glow'd, And where, alas! was he?

Now fast around the sea and shore
Night threw her darkling chain,
The sunny sails were seen no more,
Hope's morning dreams of bliss were o'er-
Love never came again!

[blocks in formation]

THERE COMES A TIME.
German Air.

THERE comes a time, a dreary time,

To him whose heart hath flown
O'er all the fields of youth's sweet prime,
And made each flower its own.
"T is when his soul must first renounce
Those dreams so bright, so fond;
Oh! then 's the time to die at once,
For life has nought beyond.
There comes a time, etc.

When sets the sun on Afric's shore,
That instant all is night;
And so should life at once be o'er,

When Love withdraws his light—
Nor, like our northern day, gleam on
Through twilight's dim delay,
The cold remains of lustre gone,
Of fire long pass'd away.

Oh! there comes a time, etc.

No. II.

LOVE AND HOPE.
Swiss Air.

Ar morn, beside yon summer sea,

Young Hope and Love reclined;

But scarce had noon-tide come, when he Into his bark leap'd smilingly,

And left poor Hope behind.

MY HARP HAS ONE UNCHANGING THEME.

Swedish Air.

My harp has one unchanging theme,
One strain that still comes o'er
Its languid chord, as 't were a dream
Of joy that's now no more.
In vain I try, with livelier air,

To wake the breathing string;
That voice of other times is there,
And saddens all I sing.

Breathe on, breathe on, thou languid strain,

Henceforth be all my own;

Though thou art oft so full of pain,

Few hearts can bear thy tone.
Yet oft thou 'rt sweet, as if the sigh,

The breath that Pleasure's wings Gave out, when last they wanton'd by, Were still upon thy strings.

OH! NO-NOT E'EN WHEN FIRST WE LOVED.

Cashmerian Air.

On! no-not e'en when first we loved,
Wert thou as dear as now thou art;
Thy beauty then my senses moved,

But now thy virtues bind my heart.
What was but Passion's sigh before,

Has since been turn'd to Reason's vow; And, though I then might love thee more, Trust me, I love thee better now!

Although my heart in earlier youth

Might kindle with more wild desire, Believe me, it has gain'd in truth

Much more than it has lost in fire. The flame now warms my inmost core,

That then but sparkled o'er my brow; And, though I seem'd to love thee more, Yet, oh! I love thee better now.

Common Sense went on,

Many wise things saying,
While the light that shone
Soon set Genius straying.
One his eye ne'er raised
From the path before him,
Tother idly gazed

On each night-cloud o'er him.
While I touch the string, etc.
So they came, at last,

To a shady river;
Common Sense soon pass'd,

Safe, as he doth ever;
While the boy, whose look
Was in heaven that minute,
Never saw the brook,

But tumbled headlong in it!
While I touch the string, etc.
How the wise one smiled,

When safe o'er the torrent,
At that youth, so wild,

Dripping from the current!
Sense went home to bed;

Genius, left to shiver
On the bank, 't is said,

Died of that cold river!

While I touch the string, etc.

PEACE BE AROUND THEE!
Scotch Air.

PEACE be around thee! wherever thou rovest
May life be for thee one summer's day,

And all that thou wishest, and all that thou lovest,
Come smiling around thy sunny way!
If sorrow e'er this calm should break,
May even thy tears pass off so lightly,
That, like spring-showers, they'll only make
The smiles that follow shine more brightly!

May Time, who sheds his blight o'er all,

And daily dooms some joy to death, O'er thee let years so gently fall,

They shall not crush one flower beneath!

As half in shade and half in sun,

This world along its path advances,

May that side the sun 's upon

Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances!

COMMON SENSE AND GENIUS.
French Air.

WHILE I touch the string,
Wreathe my brows with laurel,

For the tale I sing,

Has, for once, a moral.

Common Sense, one night,

Though not used to gambols,

Went out by moonlight,

With Genius, on his rambles.

While I touch the string, etc.

[blocks in formation]

When, after daylight's golden set,
Maids and youths by moonlight meet.

Oh! then, how sweet to move

Through all that maze of mirth, Lighted by those eyes we love Beyond all eyes on earth.

Then, the joyous banquet spread

On the cool and fragrant ground, With night's bright eye-beams overhead, And still brighter sparkling round. Oh! then, how sweet to say

Into the loved one's car,
Thoughts reserved through many a day
To be thus whisper'd here.

When the dance and feast are done,
Arm in arm as home we stray,
How sweet to see the dawning sun
O'er her cheeks' warm blushes play!
Then, then the farewell kiss,

And words whose parting tone
Lingers still in dreams of bliss,
That haunt young hearts alone.

LOVE IS A HUNTER-BOY.
Languedocian Air.

LOVE is a hunter-boy,

Who makes young hearts his prey,

And in his nets of joy

Ensnares them night and day.

In vain conceal'd they lie—

Love tracks them every where;

In vain aloft they fly

Love shoots them flying there.

But 't is his joy most sweet,
At early dawn to trace

The print of Beauty's feet,

And give the trembler chase. And most he loves through snow To trace those footsteps fair, For then the boy doth know

None track'd before him there.

Let's live it out-then sink in night,
Like waves that from the shore
One minute swell-are touch'd with light-
Then lost for evermore.

Then, chase that starting tear, etc.

JOYS OF YOUTH, HOW FLEETING!

Portuguese Air.

WHISPRINGS, heard by wakeful maids,
To whom the night-stars guide us-
Stolen walks through moonlight shades,
With those we love beside us.

Hearts beating, at meeting,-
Tears starting, at parting;
Oh! sweet youth, how soon it fades!
Sweet joys of youth, how fleeting!

HEAR ME BUT ONCE.
French Air.

HEAR me but once, while o'er the grave,
In which our love lies cold and dead,
I count each flatt'ring hope he gave,

Of joys now lost and charms now fled: Who could have thought the smile he wore, When first we met, would fade away?

Or that a chill would e'er come o'er
Those eyes so bright through many a day?

No. III.

WHEN LOVE WAS A CHILD.

Swedish Air.

WHEN Love was a child, and went idling round,
'Mong flowers the whole summer's day,
One morn in the valley a bower he found,
So sweet, it allured him to stay.

O'erhead, from the trees, hung a garland fair, A fountain ran darkly beneath

COME, CHASE THAT STARTING TEAR AWAY!'T was Pleasure that hung the bright flowers up there;

French Air.

COME, chase that starting tear away,

Ere mine to meet it springs;

To-night, at least, to-night be gay,

Whate'er to-morrow brings!

Like sun-set gleams, that linger late

When all is dark'ning fast,

Are hours like these we snatch from FateThe brightest and the last.

Then, chase that starting tear, etc.
To gild our dark'ning life, if Heaven
But one bright hour allow,

Oh! think that one bright hour is given,
In all its splendour, now!

Love knew it, and jump'd at the wreath.

But Love did n't know-and at his weak years

What urchin was likely to know?

That Sorrow had made of her own salt tears

That fountain which murmur'd below.

He caught at the wreath-but with too much haste,
As boys when impatient will do-

It fell in those waters of briny taste,
And the flowers were all wet through.

Yet this is the wreath he wears night and day, And, though it all sunny appears

With Pleasure's own lustre, each leaf, they say, Still tastes of the Fountain of Tears.

SAY, WHAT SHALL BE OUR SPORT TO-DAY? Sicilian Air.

SAY, what shall be our sport to-day?

There's nothing on earth, in sea or air,
Too bright, too bold, too high, too gay,
For spirits like mine to dare!

'T is like the returning bloom

Of those days, alas! goue by,

When I loved each hour-1 scarce knew whom,-
And was bless'd-I scarce knew why.

Ay, those were days when life had wings,
And flew-oh! flew so wild a height,
That, like the lark which sunward springs,
'T was giddy with too much light;
And, though of some plumes bereft,
With that sun, too, nearly set,
I've enough of light and wing still left
For a few gay soarings yet.

While grots and caves, and icy waves,

Each instant echo to our song; And, when we meet with stores of gems, We grudge not kings their diadems. O'er mountains bright with snow and light, We Crystal Hunters speed along, While grots and caves, and icy waves, Each instant echo to our song.

No lover half so fondly dreams

Of sparkles from his lady's eyes, As we of those refreshing gleams

That tell where deep the crystal lies;
Though, next to crystal, we too grant
That ladies' eyes may most enchant.
O'er mountains, etc.

Sometimes, when o'er the Alpine rose
The golden sunset leaves its ray,
So like a gem the flow'ret glows,
We thither bend our headlong way;
And, though we find no treasure there,
We bless the rose that shines so fair.
O'er mountains, etc.

BRIGHT BE THY DREAMS!

Welsh Air.

BRIGHT be thy dreams!-may all thy weeping Turn into smiles while thou art sleeping:

Those by death or seas removed, Friends, who in thy spring-time knew thee, All thou 'st ever prized or loved, In dreams come smiling to thee! There may the child, whose love lay deepest, Dearest of all, come while thou sleepest;

Still the same-no charm forgotNothing lost that life had given;

Or, if changed, but changed to what Thou 'It find her yet in Heaven!

GO, THEN-T IS VAIN.

Sicilian Air.

Go, then 't is vain to hover

Thus round a hope that's dead; At length my dream is over,

'T was sweet-t was false-'t is fled! Farewell, since nought it moves thee Such truth as mine to see; Some one, who far less loves thee,

Perhaps more bless'd will be. Farewell, sweet eyes, whose brightness New life around me shed! Farewell, false heart, whose lightness Now leaves me death instead! Go, now, those charms surrender To some new lover's sigh, One who, though far less tender, May be more bless'd than I.

THE CRYSTAL HUNTERS.
Swiss Air.

O'ER mountains bright with snow and light,
We Crystal Hunters speed along,

ROW GENTLY HERE.
Venetian Air.

Row gently here, my gondolier;

So softly wake the tide,

That not an ear on earth may hear,

But hers to whom we glide.

Had Heaven but tongues to speak, as well
As starry eyes to see,

Oh! think what tales 't would have to tell
Of wand'ring youths like me!
Now rest thee here, my gondolier;

Hush, hush, for up I go,

To climb yon light balcony's height,

While thou keep'st watch below.
Ah! did we take for heaven above

But half such pains as we
Take day and night for woman's love,
What angels we should be!

OH! DAYS OF YOUTH.
French Air.

OH! days of youth and joy, long clouded,
Why thus for ever haunt my view?
When in the grave your light lay shrouded,
Why did not Memory die there too?
Vainly doth Hope her strain now sing me,
Whispering of joys that yet remain-
No, no, never more can this life bring me
One joy that equals youth's sweet pain.
Dim lies the way to death before me,

Cold winds of Time blow round my brow; Sunshine of youth that once fell o'er me,

Where is your warmth, your glory now? 'T is not that then no pain could sting me'T is not that now no joys remain; Oh! it is that life no more can bring me One joy so sweet as that worst pain.

« ForrigeFortsæt »