Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub
[blocks in formation]

"Proud maiden! I come with high spousals to grace thee,

"In me the great conqueror of con

querors see;

"Enthroned in a hall fit for monarchs I'll place thee,

"And mine thou 'rt for ever, thou high-born Ladye!"

The maiden she smiled, and in jewels arrayed her,

Of thrones and tiaras already dreamt she;

And proud was the step, as her bridegroom conveyed her

In pomp to his home, of that highborn Ladye.

"But whither," she, starting, exclaims, "have you led me?

"Here's naught but a tomb and a dark cypress tree;

"Is this the bright palace in which thou wouldst wed me?"

With scorn in her glance said the highborn Ladye.

""T is the home," he replied, "of earth's loftiest creatures

[merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]
[blocks in formation]

BALLADS, SONGS, ETC.

TO-DAY, DEAREST! IS OURS. TO-DAY, dearest ! is ours;

Why should Love carelessly lose it? This life shines or lowers

Just as we, weak mortals, use it. 'Tis time enough, when its flowers decay,

To think of the thorns of Sorrow; And Joy, if left on the stem to-day, May wither before to-morrow.

Then why, dearest ! so long

Let the sweet moments fly over? Tho' now, blooming and young,

Thou hast me devoutly thy lover; Yet Time from both, in his silent lapse, Some treasure may steal or borrow; Thy charms may be less in bloom, perhaps,

Or I less in love to-morrow.

[blocks in formation]

When Hope foretells the brightest, best,
Tho' Reason on the darkest reckons;
When Passion drives us to the west,
Tho' Prudence to the eastward beck-
ons;

When all turns round, below, above,
And our own heads the most of any -
If this is not stark, staring love,
Then you and I are sages, Fanny.

HERE, TAKE MY HEART. HERE, take my heart - 't will be safe in thy keeping,

While I go wandering o'er land and

o'er sea;

Smiling or sorrowing, waking or sleeping,

What need I care, so my heart is with thee?

If in the race we are destined to run, love,

They who have light hearts the happiest be,

Then happier still must be they who have none, love,

And that will be my case when mine is with thee.

It matters not where I may now be a

rover,

I care not how many bright eyes I may

see;

Should Venus herself come and ask me to love her,

I'd tell her I could n't-my heart is with thee.

And there let it lie, growing fonder and fonder

For, even should Fortune turn truant to me,

[blocks in formation]

POOR WOUNDED HEART.
POOR wounded heart, farewell!
Thy hour of rest is come;
Thou soon wilt reach thy home,
Poor wounded heart, farewell!
The pain thou 'It feel in breaking
Less bitter far will be,
Than that long, deadly aching,
This life has been to thee.

There- broken heart, farewell!
The pang is o'er-

The parting pang is o'er;
Thou now wilt bleed no more,
Poor broken heart, farewell!
No rest for thee but dying-

Like waves, whose strife is past, On death's cold shore thus lying, Thou sleepst in peace at lastPoor broken heart, farewell!

THE EAST INDIAN. COME, May, with all thy flowers, Thy sweetly-scented thorn, Thy cooling evening showers,

Thy fragrant breath at morn:

[blocks in formation]

So droops the maid whose lover hath forsaken her,

Thrown from his arms, as lone and lost as thou;

In vain the smiles of all

Like sun-beams round her fall: The only smile that could from death awaken her,

That smile, alas! is gone to others new.

THE PRETTY ROSE-TREE.

BEING weary of love,

I flew to the grove,

And chose me a tree of the fairest; Saying, "Pretty Rose-tree, "Thou my mistress shalt be, "And I'll worship each bud thou bearest.

[merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

When the beautiful hue

Of thy cheek thro' the dew Of morning is bashfully peeping,

"Sweet tears," I shall say (As I brush them away), "At least there's no art in this weeping." Altho' thou shouldst die to-morrow, 'T will not be from pain or sorrow; And the thorns of thy stem Are not like them

With which men wound each other:
So my pretty Rose-tree,
Thou my mistress shalt be,
And I'll ne'er again sigh to another.

SHINE OUT, STARS!

SHINE out, Stars! let Heaven assemble
Round us every festal ray,
Lights that move not, lights that tremble,
All to grace this Eve of May.
Let the flower-beds all lie waking,
And the odors shut up there,
From their downy prisons breaking,
Fly abroad thro' sea and air.

And would Love, too, bring his sweet

ness,

With our other joys to weave,
Oh what glory, what completeness,

Then would crown this bright May
Eve!

Shine out, Stars! let night assemble

Round us every festal ray, Lights that move not, lights that tremble, To adorn this Eve of May.

THE YOUNG MULETEERS OF

GRENADA.

OH, the joys of our evening posada, Where, resting at close of day, We, young Muleteers of Grenada,

Sit and sing the sunshine away;

[merged small][ocr errors]

Where, resting at close of day, We, young Muleteers of Grenada, Thus sing the gay moments away.

TELL HER, OH, TELL HER. TELL her, oh, tell her, the lute she left lying

Beneath the green arbor is still lying there;

And breezes like lovers around it are sighing,

But not a soft whisper replies to their prayer.

Tell her, oh, tell her, the tree that, in going,

Beside the green arbor she playfully

set,

As lovely as ever is blushing and blowing,

And not a bright leaflet has fallen from it yet.

So while away from that arbor forsaken, The maiden is wandering, still let her be As true as the lute that no sighing can waken

And blooming for ever, unchanged as the tree!

NIGHTS OF MUSIC. NIGHTS of music, nights of loving,

Lost too soon, remembered long.
When we went by moonlight roving,
Hearts all love and lips all song.
When this faithful lute recorded

All my spirit felt to thee;
And that smile the song rewarded-
Worth whole years of fame to me!

« ForrigeFortsæt »