SONG. Air-Gramachree. I. If I had thought thou couldst have died, That thou couldst mortal be: And I on thee should look my last, II. And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again; And still the thought I will not brook, But when I speak-thou dost not say, And now I feel, as well I may, Sweet Mary! thou art dead! III. If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art, I still might press thy silent heart, And where thy smiles have been! While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have, And I am now alone! IV. I do not think, where'er thou art, And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart, Yet there was round thee such a dawn As fancy never could have drawn, He was asked whether he had any real incident in view, or had witnessed any immediate occurrence which might have prompted these lines. His reply was, "He had not; "but that he had sung the air over and over "till he burst into a flood of tears, in which "mood he composed the words.” The following song was written, at the request of a lady of high professional character as a musician, for an air of her own composition, which I believe was never published : 44 SONG. I. Go, forget me-why should sorrow Brightly smile and sweetly sing. II. Like the Sun, thy presence glowing, Earthly things were too refined. III. Go, thou vision wildly gleaming, Glory's burning-generous swell, Fancy and the Poet's shell. Go, thou vision, &c. THE FRAILTY OF BEAUTY. I. I must tune up my harp's broken string, But yet such a theme will I sing, That I think she'll not ask me again: II. For I'll tell her-Youth's blossom is blown, And that Beauty, the flower, must fade; (And sure, if a lady can frown, She'll frown at the words I have said.) III. The smiles of the rose-bud how fleet! They come and as quickly they fly: The violet how modest and sweet! Yet the Spring sees it open and die. IV. How snow-white the lily appears! Yet the life of a lily's a day; To-morrow must vanish away. V. Ah, Beauty! of all things on earth VI. Ah, fair ones! so sad is the tale, That my song in my sorrow I steep; And where I intended to rail, I must lay down my harp, and must weep. VII. But Virtue indignantly seized The harp as it fell from my hand; Serene was her look, though displeased, As she utter'd her awful command. VIII. Thy tears and thy pity employ "For the thoughtless, the giddy, the vain,— "But those who my blessings enjoy "For Beauty alone ne'er bestow'd "Such a charm as Religion has lent ; "And the cheek of a belle never glow'd "With a smile like the smile of content. |