Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

399

BRIGHT BE THY DREAMS.

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

May those by death or seas removed,

The friends, who in thy spring-time knew thee,
All, thou hast 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 as she was-no charm forgot-
No lustre lost that life had given;

Or, if changed, but changed to what Thou❜lt find her yet in Heaven!

GO, THEN-TIS VAIN.

Go, then-'tis vain to hover
Thus round a hope that's dead;

At length my dream is over;

"Twas sweet-'twas false-'tis fled!
Farewell! since naught it moves thee,
Such truth as mine to see-
Some one, who far less loves thee,
Perhaps more blest 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 blest than I.

WHEN THROUGH THE PIAZETTA.

WHEN through the Piazetta
Night breathes her cool air,
Then, dearest Ninetta,
I'll come to thee there.
Beneath thy mask shrouded,
I'll know thee afar,

As Love knows, though clouded,
His own Evening Star.

In garb, then, resembling
Some gay gondolier,
I'll whisper thee, trembling,
"Our bark, love, is near;
Now, now, while there hover
Those clouds o'er the moon,
"Twill waft thee safe over
Yon silent Lagoon."

GO, NOW, AND DREAM.

Go, now, and dream o'er that joy in thy slumber-
Moments so sweet again ne'er shalt thou number.
Of Pain's bitter draught the flavor ne'er flies,
While Pleasure's scarce touches the lip ere it dies.
Go, then, and dream, &c.

That moon, which hung o'er your parting, so splendid,
Often will shine again, bright as she then did
But, never more will the beam she saw burn

In those happy eyes, at your meeting, return.
Go, then, and dream, &c.

TAKE HENCE THE BOWL.

TAKE hence the bowl; though. beaming
Brightly as bowl ere shone,
Oh, it but sets me dreaming
Of happy days now gone.
There, in its clear reflection,
As in a wizard's glass,
Lost hopes and dead affection,
Like shades, before me pass.
Each cup I drain brings hither

Some scene of bliss gone by;
Bright lips, too bright to wither,
Warm hearts, too warm to die.

[blocks in formation]

WHERE ARE THE VISIONS.

"WHERE are the visions that round me once hovered,
Forms that shed grace from their shadows alone;
Looks fresh as light from a star just discovered,
And voices that Music might take for her own ?”

Time, while I spoke, with his wings resting o'er me,
Heard me say, "Where are those visions, oh where →→
And pointing his wand to the sunset before me,
Said, with a voice like the hollow wind, "There."
Fondly I looked, when the wizard had spoken,
And there, 'mid the dim shining ruins of day,
Saw, by their light, like a talisman broken,
The last golden fragments of hope melt away.

WIND THY HORN, MY HUNTER BOY.
WIND thy horn, my hunter boy,'

And leave thy lute's inglorious sighs;
Hunting is the hero's joy,

Till war his nobler game supplies. Hark! the hound-bells ringing sweet, While hunters shout, and the woods repeat, Hilli-ho! Hilli-ho!

Wind again thy cheerful horn,

Till echo, faint with answ'ring, dies: Burn, bright torches, burn till morn,

And lead us where the wild boar lies. Hark! the cry, "He's found, he's found," While hill and valley our shouts resound, Hilli-ho! Hilli-ho!

[ocr errors]

WHEN THE WINE-CUP IS SMILING.

WHEN the wine-cup is smiling before us,

And we pledge round to hearts that are true, boy, true, Then the sky of this life opens o'er us,

[ocr errors]

And Heaven gives a glimpse of its blue. Talk of Adam in Eden reclining,

We are better, far better off thus, boy, thus ; For him but two bright eyes were shiningSee, what numbers are sparkling for us! When on one side the grape-juice is dancing, While on t'other a blue eye beams, boy, beams, Tis enough, 'twixt the wine and the glancing, To disturb even a saint from his dreams.

Yet, though life like a river is flowing,

I care not how fast it goes on, boy, on, So the grape on its bank is still growing, And love lights the waves as they run.

WHERE SHALL WE BURY OUR SHAME?

WHERE shall we bury our shame ?
Where, in what desolate place,
Hide the last wreck of a name

Broken and stained by disgrace'
Death may dissever the chain,

Oppression will cease when we gone}
But the dishonor, the stain,

Die as we may, will live on.

Was it for this we sent out
Liberty's cry from our shore?
Was it for this that her shout

Thrilled to the world's very core?
Thus to live cowards and slaves!-
Oh, ye free hearts that lie dead,
Do you not, e'en in your graves,
Shudder, as o'er you we tread?

NE'ER TALK OF WISDOM'S GLOOMY SCHOOLS.

NE'ER talk of Wisdom's gloomy schools;

Give me the sage who's able

To draw his moral thoughts and rules
From the study of the table;-

Who learns how lightly, fleetly pass
This world and all that's in it,

From the bumper that but crowns his glass,
And is gone again next minute!

The diamond sleeps within the mine,
The pearl beneath the water;

While Truth, more precious, dwells in wine,
The grape's own rosy daughter.
And none can prize her charms like him,
Oh, none like him obtain her,
Who thus can, like Leander, swim
Through sparkling floods to gain her!

HERE SLEEPS THE BARD. HERE sleeps the Bard who knew so well All the sweet windings of Apollo's shell; Whether its music rolled like torrents near, Or died, like distant streamlets, on the ear. Sleep, sleep, mute bard: alike unheeded now The storm and zephyr sweep thy lifeless brow;— That storm, whose rush is like thy martial lay; That breeze which, like thy love-song, dies away!

DO NOT SAY THAT LIFE IS WANING.

Do not say that life is waning,

Or that Hope's sweet day is set;
While I've thee and love remaining,
Life is in th' horizon yet.

Do not think those charms are flying,
Though thy roses fade and fall;
Beauty hath a grace undying,

Which in thee survives them all.

Not for charms, the newest, brightest, That on other cheeks may shine, Would I change the least, the slightest, That is ling'ring now o'er thine.

THE GAZELLE.

Dost thou not hear the silver bell, Through yonder lime-trees ringing? 'Tis my lady's light gazelle,

To me her love-thoughts bringingAll the while that silver beil

Around his dark neck ringing.

See, in his mouth he bears a wreath,
My love hath kissed in tying;
Oh, what tender thoughts beneath
Those silent flowers are lying-
Hid within the mystic wreath
My love hath kissed in tying!
Welcome, dear gazelle, to thee,
And joy to her, the fairest,
Who thus hath breathed her soul to me,
In every leaf thou bearest;
Welcome, dear gazelle, to thee,
And joy to her, the fairest !
Hail, ye living, speaking flowers,

That breathe of her who bound ye; Oh, 'twas not in fields, or bowers, 'Twas on her lips she found ye ;— Yes, ye blushing, speaking flowers, 'Twas on her lips she found ye.

NO-LEAVE MY HEART TO REST.
No-leave my heart to rest, if rest it may,
When youth, and love, and hope, have passed away
Couldst thou, when summer hours are fled,
To some poor leaf that's fallen and dead,
Bring back the hue it wore, the scent it shed?
No leave this heart to rest, if rest it may,
When youth, and love, and hope, have passed away

Oh, had I met thee then, when life was bright,
Thy smile might still have fed its tranquil light;
But now thou com'st like sunny skies,
Too late to cheer the seaman's eyes,
When wrecked and lost his bark before him lies!
No leave this heart to rest, if rest it may,
Since youth, and love, and hope, have passed away

OH, GUARD OUR AFFECTION.

Oн guard our affection, nor e'er let it feel
The blight that this world o'er the warmest will steal:
While the faith of all round us is fading or past,
Let ours, ever green, keep its bloom to the last.
Far safer for Love 'tis to wake and to weep,
As he used in his prime, than go smiling to sleep;
For death on his slumber, cold death follows fast,
While the love that is wakeful lives on to the last.
And though, as Time gathers his clouds o'er our head,
A shade somewhat darker o'er life they may spread,
Transparent, at least, be the shadow they cast,
So that Love's softened light may shine through to the last

IF IN LOVING, SINGING.

Ir in loving, singing, night and day
We could trifle merrily life away,
Like atoms dancing in the beam,
Like day-flies skimming o'er the stream,
Or summer blossoms, born to sigh
Their sweetness out, and die-
How brilliant, thoughtless, side by side,
Thou and I could make our minutes glist'
No atoms ever glanced so bright,
No day-flies ever danced so light,
Nor summer blossoms mixe their sigh

So close, as thou and I!

SLUMBER, OH SLUMBER.

WHEN ABROAD IN THE WORLD. WHEN abroad in the world thou appearest,

SLUMBER, oh slumber; if sleeping thou mak'st My heart beat so wildly, I'm lost if thou wak'st." Thus sung I to a maiden,

Who slept one summer's day,
And, like a flower o'erladen

With too much sunshine, lay.

Slumber, oh slumber, &c.

Breathe not, oh breathe not, ye winds, o'er her cheeks; mute thus she charin me, I'm lost when she speaks."

Thus sing I, while, awaking,

She murmurs words that seem
As if her lips were taking

Farewell of some sweet dream.

Breathe not, oh breathe not, &c.

BRING THE BRIGHT GARLANDS HITHER.
BRING the bright garlands hither,
Ere yet a leaf is dying;

If so soon they must wither,

Ours be their last sweet sighing.
Hark, that low dismal chime!
'Tis the dreary voice of Time.
Oh, bring beauty, bring roses,
Bring all that yet is ours;
Let life's day, as it closes,

Shine to the last through flowers.

Haste, ere the bowl's declining,
Drink of it now or never;
Now, while Beauty is shining,
Love, or she's lost for ever.
Hark! again that dull chime,
"Tis the dreary voice of Time.
Oh, if life be a torrent,

Down to oblivion going,
Like this cup be its current,
Bright to the last drop flowing!

THOU LOV’ST NO MORE.

Too plain, alas! my doom is spoken,

Nor canst thou veil the sad truth o'er; Thy heart is changed, thy vow is broken, Thou lov'st no more-thou lov'st no more. Though kindly still those eyes behold me,

The smile is gone, which once they wore ; Though fondly still those arms enfold me, 'Tis not the same-thou lov'st no more. Too long my dream of bliss believing, I've thought thee all thou wert before; But now-alas! there's no deceiving, 'Tis all too plain, thou lov'st no more. Oh, thou as soon the dead couldst waken, As lost affection's life restore,

Give peace to her that is forsaken,

Or bring back him who loves no more.

LIKE ONE WHO, DOOMED. LIKE one who, doomed o'er distant seas His weary path to measure,

When home at length, with fav'ring breeze,
He brings the far-sought treasure;

His ship, in sight of shore, goes down,
That shore to which he hasted;
And all the wealth he thought his own,
Is o'er the waters wasted.

Like him, this heart, through many a track
Of toil and sorrow straying,

One hope alone brought fondly back,
Its toil and grief repaying.

Like him, alas! I see that ray
Of hope before me perish,

And one dark minute sweep away
What years were given to cherish.

And the young and the lovely are there, To my heart while of all thou'rt the dearest, To my eyes thou'rt of all the most fair. They pass, one by one,

Like waves of the sea.

That say to the Sun,

"See, how fair we can be."

But where's the light like thine,

In sun or shade to shine?

No-no, 'mong them all, there is nothing like thee, Nothing like thee.

Oft, of old, without farewell or warning,

Beauty's self used to steal from the skies; Fling a mist round her head, some fine morning And post down to earth in disguise;

But, no matter what shroud
Around her might be,

Men peeped through the cloud,
And whispered, ""Tis She."
So thou, where thousands are,
Shin'st forth the only star-

Yes, yes, 'mong them all, there is nothing like t,
Nothing like thee.

O SAY, THOU BEST AND BRIGHTEST

O SAY, thou best and brightest,
My first love and my last,

When he, whom now thou slightest,
From life's dark scene hath past,
Will kinder thoughts then move thee?
Will pity wake one thrill

For him who lived to love thee,
And dying, loved thee still?

If when, that hour recalling
From which he dates his woes,
Thou feel'st a tear-drop falling,

Ah! blush not while it flows:
But, all the past forgiving,

Bend gently o'er his shrine,
And say, "This heart, when living,
With all its faults, was mine."

WHEN NIGHT BRINGS THE HO &

WHEN night brings the hour,

Of starlight and joy,

There comes to my bower
A fairy-winged boy;
With eyes so bright,
So full of wild arts,
Like nets of light,

To tangle young hearts;
With lips, in whose keeping
Love's secret may dwell,
Like Zephyr asleep in
Some rosy sea-shell.
Guess who he is,
Name but his name,
And his best kiss,

For reward, you may clai
Where'er o'er the ground

He prints his light feet,
The flowers there are found
Most shining and sweet:
His looks, as soft

As lightning in May,
Though dangerous oft,
Ne'er wound but in play:
And oh, when his wings
Have brushed o'er my lyre,
You'd fancy its strings
Were turning to fre.
Guess who he is,

Name but his name,

And his best kiss,

For reward, you may claim.

KEEP THOSE EYES STILL PURELY MINE.

KEEP those eyes still purely mine,
Though for off I be:
When on others most they shine,
Then think they're turned on me.
Should those lips as now respond
To sweet minstrelsey,

When their accents seem most fond,
Then think they're breathed for me.
Make what hearts thou wilt thy own,
If when all on thee
Fix their charmed thoughts alone,
Thou thinkst the while on me.

HOPE COMES AGAIN.

HOPE Comes again, to this heart long a stranger,
Once more she sings me her flattering strain;
But hush, gentle syren-for, ah! there's less danger
In still suff'ring on, than in hoping again.

Long, long, in sorrow, too deep for repining,
Gloomy, but tranquil, this bosom hath lain;
And joy coming now, like a sudden light shining

O'er eyelids long darkened, would bring me but pain.
Fly then, ye visions, that Hope would shed o'er me;
Lost to the future, my sole chance of rest
Now lies not in dreaming of bliss that's before me,
But, ah-in forgetting how once I was blest.

FEAR NOT THAT, WHILE AROUND THEE.
FEAR not that, while around thee
Life's varied blessings pour,
One sigh of hers shall wound thee,
Whose smile thou seekst no more.

No, dead and cold for ever

Let our past love remain;
Once gone, its spirit never

Shall haunt thy rest again.
May the new ties that bind thee
Far sweeter, happier prove,
Nor e'er of me remind thee,

But by their truth and love.
Think how, asleep or waking,
Thy image haunts me yet;
But, how this heart is breaking
For thy own peace, forget.

WHEN LOVE IS KIND.
WHEN Love is kind,
Cheerful and free,
Love's sure to find
Welcome from me.
But when Love brings
Heartache or pang,
Tears, and such things,
Love may go hang!

If Love can sigh
For one alone,
Well pleased am I
To be that one.

But should I see

Love given to rove
To two or three,
Then-good-by, Love

Love must, in short,
Keep fond and true,
Through good report,
And evil too.
Else, here I swear,
Young Love may go,

For aught I care-
To Jericho.

THE GARLAND I SEND THEE.

THE Garland I send thee was culled from those bowers
Where thou and I wandered in long vanished hours;
Not a leaf or a blossom its bloom here displays.
But bears some remembrance of those happy days.

The roses were gathered by that garden gate,
Where our meetings, though early, seemed always too late,
Where ling'ring full oft through a summer-night's moon,
Our partings, though late, appeared always too soon.

The rest were all culled from the banks of that glade,
Where, watching the sunset, so often we strayed,
And mourned, as the time went, that Love had no power
To bind in his chain even one happy hour.

SPRING AND AUTUMN.

EV'RY season hath its pleasures!
Spring may boast her flow'ry prime,
Yet the vineyard's ruby treasures
Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.
So Life's year begins ap closes;
Days, though short'ning, still can shine;
What though youth gave love and roses,
Age still leaves us friends and wine.

Phillis, when she might have caught me,
All the Spring looked coy and shy,
Yet herself in Autumn sought me,
When the flowers were all gone by.
Ah, too late;-she found her lover
Calm and free beneath his vine,
Drinking to the Spring-time over
In his best autumnal wine.

Thus may we, as years are flying,
To their flight our pleasures suit,
Nor regret the blossoms dying,

While we still may taste the fruit.
Oh, while days like this are ours,

Where's the lip that dares repine ? Spring may take our loves and flowers, So Autumn leaves us friends and wine

LOVE ALONE.

If thou wouldst have thy charms enchant our eyes First win our hearts, for there thy empire lies: Beauty in vain would mount a heartless throne, Her Right Divine is given by Love alone.

What would the rose with all her pride be worth, Were there no sun to call her brightness forth? Maidens, unloved, like flowers in darkness thrown, Wait but that light, which comes from Love alone.

Fair as thy charms in yonder glass appear,
Trust not their bloom, they'll fade from year to year:
Wouldst thou they still should shine as first they shone,
Go, fix thy mirror in Love's eyes alone.

HOW SHALL I WOO?

IF I speak to thee in Friendship's name,
Thou thinkst I speak too coldly;
If I mention Love's devoted flame,
Thou say'st I speak too boldly.
Between these two unequal fires,
Why doom me thus to hover!
I'm a friend, if such thy heart requires,
If more thou seekst, a lover.
Which shall it be? How shall I woo?
Fair one, choose between the two.

Though the wings of Love will brightly play,
When first he comes to woo thee,
There's a chance that he may fly away

As fast as he flies to thee.
While Friendship, though on foot she come,
No flights of fancy trying,

Will, therefore, oft be found at home,
When Love abroad is flying.
Which shall it be? How shall I woo?
Dear one, choose between the two.

If neither feeling suits thy heart,

Let's see, to please thee, whether We may not learn some precious art To mix their charms together; One feeling, still more sweet, to form From two so sweet alreadyA friendship that like love is warm, A love like friendship steady. Thus let it be, thus let me woo, Dearest, thus we'll join the two.

LEGENDARY BALLADS.

THE VOICE.

ir came o'er her sleep, like a voice of those days,
When love, only love, was the light of her ways;
And, soft as in moments of bliss long ago,
It whispered her name from the garden below.
"Alas!" sighed the maiden, "how fancy can cheat!
The world once had lips that could whisper thus sweet;
But cold now they slumber in yon fatal deep,
Where, oh that beside them this heart too could sleep!"

She sunk on her pillow-but no, 'twas in vain
To chase the illusion, that Voice came again!
She flew to the casement-but, hushed as the grave,
In moonlight lay slumbering woodland and wave.
"Oh sleep, come and shield me," in anguish she said,
"From that call of the buried, that cry of the Dead !"
And sleep came around her-but, starting, she woke,
For still from the garden that spirit-Voice spoke !

"I come," she exclaimed, "be thy home where it may, On earth or in heaven, that call I obey;"

Then forth through the moonlight, with heart beating fast
And loud as a death-watch, the pale maiden past.
Still round her the scene all in loneliness shone;
And still, in the distance, that Voice led her on;
But whither she wandered, by wave or by shore,
None ever could tell, for she came back no more.
No, ne'er came she back-but the watchman who stood
That night in the tower which o'ershadows the flood,
Saw dimly, 'tis said, o'er the moon-lighted spray,
A youth on a steed bear the maiden away.

CUPID AND PSYCHE.

THEY told her that he, to whose vows she had listened
Through night's fleeting hours, was a spirit unblest ;—
Unholy the eyes, that beside her had glistened,
And evil the lips she in darkness had prest.
"When next in thy chamber the bridegroom reclineth,
Bring near him thy lamp, when in slumber he lies;
And there, as the light o'er his dark features shineth,
Thou't see what a demon hath won all thy sighs!"
Too fond to believe them, yet doubting, yet fearing,
When calm lay the sleeper she stole with her light;
And saw-such a vision !-no image, appearing

To bards in their day-dreams, was ever so bright. youth, but just passing from childhood's sweet morni: g, While round him still lingered its innocent ray; Though gleams, from beneath his shut eyelids, gave warning

Of summer-noon lightnings that under them lay.
His brow had a grace more than mortal around it,
While, glossy as gold from a fairy-land mine,
His sunny hair hung, and the flowers that crowned it
Seemed fresh from the breeze of some garden divine.

Entranced stood the bride, on that miracle gazing,
What late was but love is idolatry now;
But, ah-in her tremor the fatal lamp raising-
A sparkle flew from it and dropped on his brow.

All's lost-with a start from his rosy sleep waking,
The Spirit flashed o'er her his glances of fire;
Then, slow from the clasp of her snowy arms breaking,
Thus said, in a voice more of sorrow than ire :-
"Farewell-what a dream thy suspicion hath broken!
Thus ever Affection's fond vision is crost;
Dissolved are her spells when a doubt is but spoken,
And love, once distrusted, for ever is lost!"

THE HIGH-BORN LADYE.

In vain all the Knights of the Underwald wooed her, Though brightest of maidens, the proudest was she; Brave chieftains they sought, and young minstrels they sued her,

But worthy were none of the high-born Ladye. "Whomsoever I wed," said this maid, so excelling, "That Knight must the conqu'ror of conquerors be; He must place me in halls fit for monarchs to dwell in ;None else shall be Lord of the high-born Ladye!"

Thus spoke the proud damsel, with scorn looking round her

On Knights and on Nobles of highest degree;
Who humbly and hopelessly left as they found her,
And worshipped at distance the high-born Ladye.

At length came a Knight, from a far land to woo her,
With plumes on his helm 'ke the foam of the sea;
His vizor was down—but, with voice that thrilled through
Ler,

He whispered his vows to the high-born Ladye. "Proud maiden! I come with high spousals to grace thee, In me the great conqu'ror of conquerors 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 high-born 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 high-born Ladye. ""Tis the home," he replied, "of earth's loftiest creatures"

Then lifted his helm for the fair one to see;

But she sunk on the ground-'twas a skeleton's features, And Death was the Lord of the kigh-born Ladye!

« ZurückWeiter »