[F]16 lines above were written by Prof. E. Longley.
[F]16 lines above were written by Prof. E. Longley.
Now lovely Vesper shows her lamp,In yonder slowly darkening sky;It is the hour, when musing here,I heave for thee the bursting sigh.Thus, Mary, as yon mournful pallOf darkness falls on all things round,Ah! tell me shall the gloom of fate,My cheerless pathway thus surround?But, as yon lamp—the lamp of love!With brilliant smile, relieves the gloom,Say, shall thy heavenly smile relieveThe darkness of my mortal doom?Alas! I do not know thy thoughts,If thou wilt slay, or sweetly save;Yet I shall love thee fondly still,Until I rest within the grave.
Now lovely Vesper shows her lamp,In yonder slowly darkening sky;It is the hour, when musing here,I heave for thee the bursting sigh.
Now lovely Vesper shows her lamp,
In yonder slowly darkening sky;
It is the hour, when musing here,
I heave for thee the bursting sigh.
Thus, Mary, as yon mournful pallOf darkness falls on all things round,Ah! tell me shall the gloom of fate,My cheerless pathway thus surround?
Thus, Mary, as yon mournful pall
Of darkness falls on all things round,
Ah! tell me shall the gloom of fate,
My cheerless pathway thus surround?
But, as yon lamp—the lamp of love!With brilliant smile, relieves the gloom,Say, shall thy heavenly smile relieveThe darkness of my mortal doom?
But, as yon lamp—the lamp of love!
With brilliant smile, relieves the gloom,
Say, shall thy heavenly smile relieve
The darkness of my mortal doom?
Alas! I do not know thy thoughts,If thou wilt slay, or sweetly save;Yet I shall love thee fondly still,Until I rest within the grave.
Alas! I do not know thy thoughts,
If thou wilt slay, or sweetly save;
Yet I shall love thee fondly still,
Until I rest within the grave.
The sky to me did never speak,The sea rolled ever dumb,—Of him beneath whose wondrous power,Their mystic forms had come.The sacred light was curtained backFrom my exploring eye,And I seemed left to grope in night,And there at last to die.When lo! upon a day there cameA Man, with placid brow,Who rent the curtain—and the lightIs gushing on me now.The sky doth speak to me of God,The deep and rolling seaIs ever grandly singing, Lord,To my bowed soul, of Thee.Oh! I can see around them nowA radiant light doth shine,A light that mocks the pencil's pride,A light that is divine.
The sky to me did never speak,The sea rolled ever dumb,—Of him beneath whose wondrous power,Their mystic forms had come.
The sky to me did never speak,
The sea rolled ever dumb,—
Of him beneath whose wondrous power,
Their mystic forms had come.
The sacred light was curtained backFrom my exploring eye,And I seemed left to grope in night,And there at last to die.
The sacred light was curtained back
From my exploring eye,
And I seemed left to grope in night,
And there at last to die.
When lo! upon a day there cameA Man, with placid brow,Who rent the curtain—and the lightIs gushing on me now.
When lo! upon a day there came
A Man, with placid brow,
Who rent the curtain—and the light
Is gushing on me now.
The sky doth speak to me of God,The deep and rolling seaIs ever grandly singing, Lord,To my bowed soul, of Thee.
The sky doth speak to me of God,
The deep and rolling sea
Is ever grandly singing, Lord,
To my bowed soul, of Thee.
Oh! I can see around them nowA radiant light doth shine,A light that mocks the pencil's pride,A light that is divine.
Oh! I can see around them now
A radiant light doth shine,
A light that mocks the pencil's pride,
A light that is divine.
Hark! the organ's solemn pealAscends the lofty fane,To win the soul's repeal,From everlasting pain:To waft the voice of praiseTo Him who reigns above,Which blends with burning laysOf Seraph's holy love.Hark! the deep-toned, solemn peal!Again it strikes the air!My trembling accents stealTo join the anthem there.I strive to lift my mindTo God's most holy throne;And, with my thought refined,To think on Heaven alone.But earth-born love intrudesAnd brings me back to earth;To dreamy solitudesMy spirit wanders forth:To walk with one, a youth,With bright and sunny hair,Whose words are only truth,Whose love is heavenly fair.God! forgive my grievous sin!God! forgive my erring love!Write not my sentence inThine awful scroll above!God! forgive thy creature's love,Who only loves too well!Let not that virtue proveMy doleful doom to hell.But make my passion less—Its burning purify;And make it meet to blessMy spirit in the sky.
Hark! the organ's solemn pealAscends the lofty fane,To win the soul's repeal,From everlasting pain:
Hark! the organ's solemn peal
Ascends the lofty fane,
To win the soul's repeal,
From everlasting pain:
To waft the voice of praiseTo Him who reigns above,Which blends with burning laysOf Seraph's holy love.
To waft the voice of praise
To Him who reigns above,
Which blends with burning lays
Of Seraph's holy love.
Hark! the deep-toned, solemn peal!Again it strikes the air!My trembling accents stealTo join the anthem there.
Hark! the deep-toned, solemn peal!
Again it strikes the air!
My trembling accents steal
To join the anthem there.
I strive to lift my mindTo God's most holy throne;And, with my thought refined,To think on Heaven alone.
I strive to lift my mind
To God's most holy throne;
And, with my thought refined,
To think on Heaven alone.
But earth-born love intrudesAnd brings me back to earth;To dreamy solitudesMy spirit wanders forth:
But earth-born love intrudes
And brings me back to earth;
To dreamy solitudes
My spirit wanders forth:
To walk with one, a youth,With bright and sunny hair,Whose words are only truth,Whose love is heavenly fair.
To walk with one, a youth,
With bright and sunny hair,
Whose words are only truth,
Whose love is heavenly fair.
God! forgive my grievous sin!God! forgive my erring love!Write not my sentence inThine awful scroll above!
God! forgive my grievous sin!
God! forgive my erring love!
Write not my sentence in
Thine awful scroll above!
God! forgive thy creature's love,Who only loves too well!Let not that virtue proveMy doleful doom to hell.
God! forgive thy creature's love,
Who only loves too well!
Let not that virtue prove
My doleful doom to hell.
But make my passion less—Its burning purify;And make it meet to blessMy spirit in the sky.
But make my passion less—
Its burning purify;
And make it meet to bless
My spirit in the sky.
In those mild eyes, there is a lightWhich dwells not with the evil; andA calm repose upon thy features, whichSays thou art innocent. Around thee gleamingThere is a robe of more than loveliness,Of form, and face, and hair: it is the charmOf most majestic Goodness; which exaltsAn earth-born frame into an angel's stature.Oh! if this world had many like thyself,It were a heaven for blessed ones to dwell in.
In those mild eyes, there is a lightWhich dwells not with the evil; andA calm repose upon thy features, whichSays thou art innocent. Around thee gleamingThere is a robe of more than loveliness,Of form, and face, and hair: it is the charmOf most majestic Goodness; which exaltsAn earth-born frame into an angel's stature.Oh! if this world had many like thyself,It were a heaven for blessed ones to dwell in.
In those mild eyes, there is a light
Which dwells not with the evil; and
A calm repose upon thy features, which
Says thou art innocent. Around thee gleaming
There is a robe of more than loveliness,
Of form, and face, and hair: it is the charm
Of most majestic Goodness; which exalts
An earth-born frame into an angel's stature.
Oh! if this world had many like thyself,
It were a heaven for blessed ones to dwell in.
What bids the soul of man to gaze,Upon a spot of earth,As a sun of focal rays?The spell of human worth!The spot where human virtue stood,And struck for holy truth,Still stirs the world's ecstatic blood,A thing of mighty youth!When can the name of Marathon,Fall powerless, on the soul;Whilst thoughts of right, or injury, done,Along its fibres, roll?Can Waterloo grow trite by time,Or Yorktown fail to fire,Man's breast, with hatred most sublime,To wrong, till time expire?What hallows thus the hills of Greece,And flings that light o'er Rome,Which when her very fragments cease,Still crowns her history's dome?'Tis truth's great warfare bravely fought,That hallows in the core,A mount—a plain—a barren spot—With fame which dies no more.And when can earth forget to glow,Beside each glorious shrine?Not till yon stars shall dart below,And sun shall cease to shine.
What bids the soul of man to gaze,Upon a spot of earth,As a sun of focal rays?The spell of human worth!
What bids the soul of man to gaze,
Upon a spot of earth,
As a sun of focal rays?
The spell of human worth!
The spot where human virtue stood,And struck for holy truth,Still stirs the world's ecstatic blood,A thing of mighty youth!
The spot where human virtue stood,
And struck for holy truth,
Still stirs the world's ecstatic blood,
A thing of mighty youth!
When can the name of Marathon,Fall powerless, on the soul;Whilst thoughts of right, or injury, done,Along its fibres, roll?
When can the name of Marathon,
Fall powerless, on the soul;
Whilst thoughts of right, or injury, done,
Along its fibres, roll?
Can Waterloo grow trite by time,Or Yorktown fail to fire,Man's breast, with hatred most sublime,To wrong, till time expire?
Can Waterloo grow trite by time,
Or Yorktown fail to fire,
Man's breast, with hatred most sublime,
To wrong, till time expire?
What hallows thus the hills of Greece,And flings that light o'er Rome,Which when her very fragments cease,Still crowns her history's dome?
What hallows thus the hills of Greece,
And flings that light o'er Rome,
Which when her very fragments cease,
Still crowns her history's dome?
'Tis truth's great warfare bravely fought,That hallows in the core,A mount—a plain—a barren spot—With fame which dies no more.
'Tis truth's great warfare bravely fought,
That hallows in the core,
A mount—a plain—a barren spot—
With fame which dies no more.
And when can earth forget to glow,Beside each glorious shrine?Not till yon stars shall dart below,And sun shall cease to shine.
And when can earth forget to glow,
Beside each glorious shrine?
Not till yon stars shall dart below,
And sun shall cease to shine.
Hail, beauteous maiden, gentle spring!I see thee slowly move,On lowering wings, on yon green hillFrom yon blue fields above.Hail, beauteous Spring! my bosom swellsWith joy to feel thee near,Thy joyful advent now dispelsThe winter, dark and drear.Hail, beauteous Spring, the meads are green,The lordly elms rejoice;Yon river flashes in the light,The springs send up a voice.The blue-bird sings thy welcome sweetFrom yonder blooming tree,The redbreast pours his simple note,A tribute glad, to thee.The cuckoo comes to join thy train,With his melodious lay,Until his song, a rapture! runsO'er all thy pleasant way.Hail, heavenly Spring! a thousand throats,Re-echo with thy praise;Thou bring'st the time of flowers and lightOf bright and cloudless days.Hail, beauteous earth! thou art the typeReturning with each year,To tell us of another landWhose sky is always clear.All hail, bright spring, celestial maid!Who fill'st my singing heart;But never tongue or lyre shall speakThe Transport which thou art!
Hail, beauteous maiden, gentle spring!I see thee slowly move,On lowering wings, on yon green hillFrom yon blue fields above.
Hail, beauteous maiden, gentle spring!
I see thee slowly move,
On lowering wings, on yon green hill
From yon blue fields above.
Hail, beauteous Spring! my bosom swellsWith joy to feel thee near,Thy joyful advent now dispelsThe winter, dark and drear.
Hail, beauteous Spring! my bosom swells
With joy to feel thee near,
Thy joyful advent now dispels
The winter, dark and drear.
Hail, beauteous Spring, the meads are green,The lordly elms rejoice;Yon river flashes in the light,The springs send up a voice.
Hail, beauteous Spring, the meads are green,
The lordly elms rejoice;
Yon river flashes in the light,
The springs send up a voice.
The blue-bird sings thy welcome sweetFrom yonder blooming tree,The redbreast pours his simple note,A tribute glad, to thee.
The blue-bird sings thy welcome sweet
From yonder blooming tree,
The redbreast pours his simple note,
A tribute glad, to thee.
The cuckoo comes to join thy train,With his melodious lay,Until his song, a rapture! runsO'er all thy pleasant way.
The cuckoo comes to join thy train,
With his melodious lay,
Until his song, a rapture! runs
O'er all thy pleasant way.
Hail, heavenly Spring! a thousand throats,Re-echo with thy praise;Thou bring'st the time of flowers and lightOf bright and cloudless days.
Hail, heavenly Spring! a thousand throats,
Re-echo with thy praise;
Thou bring'st the time of flowers and light
Of bright and cloudless days.
Hail, beauteous earth! thou art the typeReturning with each year,To tell us of another landWhose sky is always clear.
Hail, beauteous earth! thou art the type
Returning with each year,
To tell us of another land
Whose sky is always clear.
All hail, bright spring, celestial maid!Who fill'st my singing heart;But never tongue or lyre shall speakThe Transport which thou art!
All hail, bright spring, celestial maid!
Who fill'st my singing heart;
But never tongue or lyre shall speak
The Transport which thou art!
And art thou proud, my darling love?Thus should it ever be;For beauty hath, the clearest right,Of sovereign majesty.Oh! art thou proud, my darling love!Then not to do thee wrong,Thou e'er shalt reign the sole, bright queen,Within my heart and song.
And art thou proud, my darling love?Thus should it ever be;For beauty hath, the clearest right,Of sovereign majesty.
And art thou proud, my darling love?
Thus should it ever be;
For beauty hath, the clearest right,
Of sovereign majesty.
Oh! art thou proud, my darling love!Then not to do thee wrong,Thou e'er shalt reign the sole, bright queen,Within my heart and song.
Oh! art thou proud, my darling love!
Then not to do thee wrong,
Thou e'er shalt reign the sole, bright queen,
Within my heart and song.
Oh, Lizzie, when I read your card,Which you had printed in the paper,Wherein you said your case was hard,My fancy cut a glorious caper.I said, that is a prudent fairWho has the true idea of living,And would not on the "desert air,"Her fragrance still be giving.So I at once resolved to trySo conquer all my vacillation,And fix my wand'ring heart and eyeOn only you, in all creation.I know that I had often sigh'dTo other ladies quite as pretty,But then it could not be denied,To let you pass, would be a pity.With real pain and much ado,I cut the other chords that bound me,And said the ties proposed by you,Should now be tightly drawn around me.Farewell, I said, to blooming Nell,Who is too long my passion trying,For here is one, whose stanzas tell,Like me, for marriage she is dying.I am a student small and neat,Not twenty-five, and somewhat dashing,With active limbs and beard complete,And wear a vest that's slightly flashing.My brow is broad, my eye is black,And quickly changes with my feeling,And to your own, it flashes back,The thought their glance was just revealing.Some gentle blood runs through my veins,And I suppose you truly know it,And then, to crown my boastful strains,The world has sworn I am a poet.I'd like to wed and with you dwell,Within some happy rural valley,Where zephyrs round the lily's bell,In summer sigh, and faint, and dally.Now Lizzie! I have written back,In answer to your publication;So let us promptly tread the track,Before the first of next vacation.I'll get the license; get your dress,And flowers to make a bride's adorning;Then let us to the chapel press,With bridal friends, at early morning.We shall be happy. So will, too,Both clerk, and priest, and mantua-maker;My tailor—ah! a fellow true,Will say "I'm proud to see you take her."And then must come the honey moon,Ah me! that sets me deeply sighing,You leaning on my heart, whose tune,To yours is still in love replying.
Oh, Lizzie, when I read your card,Which you had printed in the paper,Wherein you said your case was hard,My fancy cut a glorious caper.
Oh, Lizzie, when I read your card,
Which you had printed in the paper,
Wherein you said your case was hard,
My fancy cut a glorious caper.
I said, that is a prudent fairWho has the true idea of living,And would not on the "desert air,"Her fragrance still be giving.
I said, that is a prudent fair
Who has the true idea of living,
And would not on the "desert air,"
Her fragrance still be giving.
So I at once resolved to trySo conquer all my vacillation,And fix my wand'ring heart and eyeOn only you, in all creation.
So I at once resolved to try
So conquer all my vacillation,
And fix my wand'ring heart and eye
On only you, in all creation.
I know that I had often sigh'dTo other ladies quite as pretty,But then it could not be denied,To let you pass, would be a pity.
I know that I had often sigh'd
To other ladies quite as pretty,
But then it could not be denied,
To let you pass, would be a pity.
With real pain and much ado,I cut the other chords that bound me,And said the ties proposed by you,Should now be tightly drawn around me.
With real pain and much ado,
I cut the other chords that bound me,
And said the ties proposed by you,
Should now be tightly drawn around me.
Farewell, I said, to blooming Nell,Who is too long my passion trying,For here is one, whose stanzas tell,Like me, for marriage she is dying.
Farewell, I said, to blooming Nell,
Who is too long my passion trying,
For here is one, whose stanzas tell,
Like me, for marriage she is dying.
I am a student small and neat,Not twenty-five, and somewhat dashing,With active limbs and beard complete,And wear a vest that's slightly flashing.
I am a student small and neat,
Not twenty-five, and somewhat dashing,
With active limbs and beard complete,
And wear a vest that's slightly flashing.
My brow is broad, my eye is black,And quickly changes with my feeling,And to your own, it flashes back,The thought their glance was just revealing.
My brow is broad, my eye is black,
And quickly changes with my feeling,
And to your own, it flashes back,
The thought their glance was just revealing.
Some gentle blood runs through my veins,And I suppose you truly know it,And then, to crown my boastful strains,The world has sworn I am a poet.
Some gentle blood runs through my veins,
And I suppose you truly know it,
And then, to crown my boastful strains,
The world has sworn I am a poet.
I'd like to wed and with you dwell,Within some happy rural valley,Where zephyrs round the lily's bell,In summer sigh, and faint, and dally.
I'd like to wed and with you dwell,
Within some happy rural valley,
Where zephyrs round the lily's bell,
In summer sigh, and faint, and dally.
Now Lizzie! I have written back,In answer to your publication;So let us promptly tread the track,Before the first of next vacation.
Now Lizzie! I have written back,
In answer to your publication;
So let us promptly tread the track,
Before the first of next vacation.
I'll get the license; get your dress,And flowers to make a bride's adorning;Then let us to the chapel press,With bridal friends, at early morning.
I'll get the license; get your dress,
And flowers to make a bride's adorning;
Then let us to the chapel press,
With bridal friends, at early morning.
We shall be happy. So will, too,Both clerk, and priest, and mantua-maker;My tailor—ah! a fellow true,Will say "I'm proud to see you take her."
We shall be happy. So will, too,
Both clerk, and priest, and mantua-maker;
My tailor—ah! a fellow true,
Will say "I'm proud to see you take her."
And then must come the honey moon,Ah me! that sets me deeply sighing,You leaning on my heart, whose tune,To yours is still in love replying.
And then must come the honey moon,
Ah me! that sets me deeply sighing,
You leaning on my heart, whose tune,
To yours is still in love replying.
'Tis true that when the god-like die,Their glorious monumentAre earth's great mountains and the sky,Their names with all things blent—But, then, some storied heap should showThe grave of worth entombed below.'Tis true, the pilgrim wandering slow,O'er sad Achaia's plain,Will feel his bosom warmly glow,And memory fire his brain—Achilles' strength—and Homer's songAcross his breast will roll along.But, had the Grecian chisel wrought,No pile above their graves,Say, could ye point out, save in thought,Their own, from tombs of slaves?A crumbling column, only showsWhere Greece's mighty dead repose.But tombs of men, more wise, more free,Amid a brighter day,Are like the mounds ye scarcely see,And note not by the way.No Mausoleums climb the skies,To tell where greater Glory lies.
'Tis true that when the god-like die,Their glorious monumentAre earth's great mountains and the sky,Their names with all things blent—But, then, some storied heap should showThe grave of worth entombed below.
'Tis true that when the god-like die,
Their glorious monument
Are earth's great mountains and the sky,
Their names with all things blent—
But, then, some storied heap should show
The grave of worth entombed below.
'Tis true, the pilgrim wandering slow,O'er sad Achaia's plain,Will feel his bosom warmly glow,And memory fire his brain—Achilles' strength—and Homer's songAcross his breast will roll along.
'Tis true, the pilgrim wandering slow,
O'er sad Achaia's plain,
Will feel his bosom warmly glow,
And memory fire his brain—
Achilles' strength—and Homer's song
Across his breast will roll along.
But, had the Grecian chisel wrought,No pile above their graves,Say, could ye point out, save in thought,Their own, from tombs of slaves?A crumbling column, only showsWhere Greece's mighty dead repose.
But, had the Grecian chisel wrought,
No pile above their graves,
Say, could ye point out, save in thought,
Their own, from tombs of slaves?
A crumbling column, only shows
Where Greece's mighty dead repose.
But tombs of men, more wise, more free,Amid a brighter day,Are like the mounds ye scarcely see,And note not by the way.No Mausoleums climb the skies,To tell where greater Glory lies.
But tombs of men, more wise, more free,
Amid a brighter day,
Are like the mounds ye scarcely see,
And note not by the way.
No Mausoleums climb the skies,
To tell where greater Glory lies.
When summer's rosy twilight fell,Upon yon river's gentle swell,Leading the spirit by its song,As through the land it sweeps along;We watched the stars, those worlds of love,That swim yon azure seas above—We heard each other's heart-pulse beat,In unison divinely sweet.Your virgin hand was laid in mine,I gazed into your spirit's shrine:We lost the sense of stars and earth,And of the dancing waters' mirth:We only saw each other then;We look'd as if no more again,And our tumultuous hearts should die,In that wild dream of ecstasy.I clasped you to my bosom there,I played with your dishevell'd hair;And then the thoughts which long had sleptWithin us, waken'd; and we wept.We wept to think of what had past—The doubt—the trial—joy at last—We wept to think of mournful fears—We wept to hail the future years.I ceased to shed such happy tears,I whisper'd comfort in your ears,I press'd you closer to my heart,Till mine no more could throb apart.But then we smiled, we laughed to feelThe heaven which deep love can reveal;We laughed that Love had ever bound,His golden bands our souls around!Do you not know the boundless blissWhich follows true love's lightning kiss;For, in that hour with heaven above,Your cheeks, your mouth received my love.And when that deep, blest trance was o'er,And we could clasp and kiss no more;Love's dear confessions had been made,And we no more could be afraid;When Angels' pens had writ the vowWhich nothing can dissever now;Our hearts return'd to Nature's face,To planets, and the waters' race.All, all was calm; all, all was bright;The moon was climbing to yon height,Of Heaven's blue cone, rough round with stars,With Venus—but no angry Mars.
When summer's rosy twilight fell,Upon yon river's gentle swell,Leading the spirit by its song,As through the land it sweeps along;
When summer's rosy twilight fell,
Upon yon river's gentle swell,
Leading the spirit by its song,
As through the land it sweeps along;
We watched the stars, those worlds of love,That swim yon azure seas above—We heard each other's heart-pulse beat,In unison divinely sweet.
We watched the stars, those worlds of love,
That swim yon azure seas above—
We heard each other's heart-pulse beat,
In unison divinely sweet.
Your virgin hand was laid in mine,I gazed into your spirit's shrine:We lost the sense of stars and earth,And of the dancing waters' mirth:
Your virgin hand was laid in mine,
I gazed into your spirit's shrine:
We lost the sense of stars and earth,
And of the dancing waters' mirth:
We only saw each other then;We look'd as if no more again,And our tumultuous hearts should die,In that wild dream of ecstasy.
We only saw each other then;
We look'd as if no more again,
And our tumultuous hearts should die,
In that wild dream of ecstasy.
I clasped you to my bosom there,I played with your dishevell'd hair;And then the thoughts which long had sleptWithin us, waken'd; and we wept.
I clasped you to my bosom there,
I played with your dishevell'd hair;
And then the thoughts which long had slept
Within us, waken'd; and we wept.
We wept to think of what had past—The doubt—the trial—joy at last—We wept to think of mournful fears—We wept to hail the future years.
We wept to think of what had past—
The doubt—the trial—joy at last—
We wept to think of mournful fears—
We wept to hail the future years.
I ceased to shed such happy tears,I whisper'd comfort in your ears,I press'd you closer to my heart,Till mine no more could throb apart.
I ceased to shed such happy tears,
I whisper'd comfort in your ears,
I press'd you closer to my heart,
Till mine no more could throb apart.
But then we smiled, we laughed to feelThe heaven which deep love can reveal;We laughed that Love had ever bound,His golden bands our souls around!
But then we smiled, we laughed to feel
The heaven which deep love can reveal;
We laughed that Love had ever bound,
His golden bands our souls around!
Do you not know the boundless blissWhich follows true love's lightning kiss;For, in that hour with heaven above,Your cheeks, your mouth received my love.
Do you not know the boundless bliss
Which follows true love's lightning kiss;
For, in that hour with heaven above,
Your cheeks, your mouth received my love.
And when that deep, blest trance was o'er,And we could clasp and kiss no more;Love's dear confessions had been made,And we no more could be afraid;
And when that deep, blest trance was o'er,
And we could clasp and kiss no more;
Love's dear confessions had been made,
And we no more could be afraid;
When Angels' pens had writ the vowWhich nothing can dissever now;Our hearts return'd to Nature's face,To planets, and the waters' race.
When Angels' pens had writ the vow
Which nothing can dissever now;
Our hearts return'd to Nature's face,
To planets, and the waters' race.
All, all was calm; all, all was bright;The moon was climbing to yon height,Of Heaven's blue cone, rough round with stars,With Venus—but no angry Mars.
All, all was calm; all, all was bright;
The moon was climbing to yon height,
Of Heaven's blue cone, rough round with stars,
With Venus—but no angry Mars.
Farewell to the land which we sought o'er the wave;We made it our home; it will now be our grave:Farewell, ye proud mountains, and valleys uneven,And thou, bright shining Glory, now setting in heaven.Farewell to our hearthstones, our cherished ones there,Our wives and our children, now reft of our care:Farewell, everloved of our souls—nevermore,Shall we look on your faces—our lifetime is o'er.We march to the field—'twill be red with our blood,Which shall make of its soil there a horrible mud;Where our bones by wild beasts on the desolate plain,Shall be torn, and be whiten'd by tempest and rain.We march to the field—and our comrades in war,Shall shout to the heavens their triumph afar—And Victory shall perch on our banners on highAnd Tyrants fore'er from our country shall fly;Yet never shall we view that glorious sight—We sink, with yon sun, in the deathgloom of night;Farewell to our homes and our country for aye,We go to our graves, with the setting of day.Farewell, yes, farewell, Earth, Heavens and allWhich here in the last hour of life we recall:Farewell! we are doomed to the night of the grave,—But our mem'ry shall live with the names of the brave.
Farewell to the land which we sought o'er the wave;We made it our home; it will now be our grave:Farewell, ye proud mountains, and valleys uneven,And thou, bright shining Glory, now setting in heaven.
Farewell to the land which we sought o'er the wave;
We made it our home; it will now be our grave:
Farewell, ye proud mountains, and valleys uneven,
And thou, bright shining Glory, now setting in heaven.
Farewell to our hearthstones, our cherished ones there,Our wives and our children, now reft of our care:Farewell, everloved of our souls—nevermore,Shall we look on your faces—our lifetime is o'er.
Farewell to our hearthstones, our cherished ones there,
Our wives and our children, now reft of our care:
Farewell, everloved of our souls—nevermore,
Shall we look on your faces—our lifetime is o'er.
We march to the field—'twill be red with our blood,Which shall make of its soil there a horrible mud;Where our bones by wild beasts on the desolate plain,Shall be torn, and be whiten'd by tempest and rain.
We march to the field—'twill be red with our blood,
Which shall make of its soil there a horrible mud;
Where our bones by wild beasts on the desolate plain,
Shall be torn, and be whiten'd by tempest and rain.
We march to the field—and our comrades in war,Shall shout to the heavens their triumph afar—And Victory shall perch on our banners on highAnd Tyrants fore'er from our country shall fly;
We march to the field—and our comrades in war,
Shall shout to the heavens their triumph afar—
And Victory shall perch on our banners on high
And Tyrants fore'er from our country shall fly;
Yet never shall we view that glorious sight—We sink, with yon sun, in the deathgloom of night;Farewell to our homes and our country for aye,We go to our graves, with the setting of day.
Yet never shall we view that glorious sight—
We sink, with yon sun, in the deathgloom of night;
Farewell to our homes and our country for aye,
We go to our graves, with the setting of day.
Farewell, yes, farewell, Earth, Heavens and allWhich here in the last hour of life we recall:Farewell! we are doomed to the night of the grave,—But our mem'ry shall live with the names of the brave.
Farewell, yes, farewell, Earth, Heavens and all
Which here in the last hour of life we recall:
Farewell! we are doomed to the night of the grave,—
But our mem'ry shall live with the names of the brave.
Hast thou come back, my Shakspeare! bard,Who didst dethrone and drive away those others,From cold Parnassus, fate that seem'd too hard,To be inflicted on thy gentle brothers.Thou didst spare one, left him enthroned fast,The blind old man of Scio, hoary Homer,So that of all the harpers first and last,To call him king, is not a base misnomer.There on those far and ever whiten'd rocks,You two sit monarchs of a rich dominion;But I forgot dark Milton's sacred locks,Serenely resting from his seraph pinion!Hast thou come back, great bard, to charm and blessMy heart with many a grand, illusive vision,And show those gorgeous fields of happiness,With vistas and with rivers all Elysian?Stay now with me; no more through all the years,Wilt thou and I, O glorious friend! be parted;Or, if e'er so, my overflowing tears,Will prove that I am grieved, or broken-hearted.Yes stay, and I shall haste to thy converse,With full delight, at rosiate morn, calm even,And I shall dream of rich and golden verseFrom angel lyres within the bowers of Heaven.
Hast thou come back, my Shakspeare! bard,Who didst dethrone and drive away those others,From cold Parnassus, fate that seem'd too hard,To be inflicted on thy gentle brothers.
Hast thou come back, my Shakspeare! bard,
Who didst dethrone and drive away those others,
From cold Parnassus, fate that seem'd too hard,
To be inflicted on thy gentle brothers.
Thou didst spare one, left him enthroned fast,The blind old man of Scio, hoary Homer,So that of all the harpers first and last,To call him king, is not a base misnomer.
Thou didst spare one, left him enthroned fast,
The blind old man of Scio, hoary Homer,
So that of all the harpers first and last,
To call him king, is not a base misnomer.
There on those far and ever whiten'd rocks,You two sit monarchs of a rich dominion;But I forgot dark Milton's sacred locks,Serenely resting from his seraph pinion!
There on those far and ever whiten'd rocks,
You two sit monarchs of a rich dominion;
But I forgot dark Milton's sacred locks,
Serenely resting from his seraph pinion!
Hast thou come back, great bard, to charm and blessMy heart with many a grand, illusive vision,And show those gorgeous fields of happiness,With vistas and with rivers all Elysian?
Hast thou come back, great bard, to charm and bless
My heart with many a grand, illusive vision,
And show those gorgeous fields of happiness,
With vistas and with rivers all Elysian?
Stay now with me; no more through all the years,Wilt thou and I, O glorious friend! be parted;Or, if e'er so, my overflowing tears,Will prove that I am grieved, or broken-hearted.
Stay now with me; no more through all the years,
Wilt thou and I, O glorious friend! be parted;
Or, if e'er so, my overflowing tears,
Will prove that I am grieved, or broken-hearted.
Yes stay, and I shall haste to thy converse,With full delight, at rosiate morn, calm even,And I shall dream of rich and golden verseFrom angel lyres within the bowers of Heaven.
Yes stay, and I shall haste to thy converse,
With full delight, at rosiate morn, calm even,
And I shall dream of rich and golden verse
From angel lyres within the bowers of Heaven.
I love thee—oh! I love thee,With fervor, deep and wild,Thy beauty's charm most strangely,My spirit hath beguiled.I love thee—oh! I love thee,The Spring's first, freshest flower,Comes not across my spirit,With such a holy power.I love thee—oh! I love thee,The fibres of my heartAre closely twined about thee,As if by magic art.I see thee—oh! I see thee,In the sunbeam, in the bud,In all that's fair in nature,In all that's bright and good.I hear thee—oh! I hear thee,In the melting music-words,That swell, at joyous morning,From the woodland choir of birds.I crave thee—oh! I crave thee,Thou angel sent from God!To beautify the pathway,Which must by me be trod.I love thee—oh! I love thee!And, dearest, I implore,That bliss may still await thee,On Heaven's far brighter shore.
I love thee—oh! I love thee,With fervor, deep and wild,Thy beauty's charm most strangely,My spirit hath beguiled.
I love thee—oh! I love thee,
With fervor, deep and wild,
Thy beauty's charm most strangely,
My spirit hath beguiled.
I love thee—oh! I love thee,The Spring's first, freshest flower,Comes not across my spirit,With such a holy power.
I love thee—oh! I love thee,
The Spring's first, freshest flower,
Comes not across my spirit,
With such a holy power.
I love thee—oh! I love thee,The fibres of my heartAre closely twined about thee,As if by magic art.
I love thee—oh! I love thee,
The fibres of my heart
Are closely twined about thee,
As if by magic art.
I see thee—oh! I see thee,In the sunbeam, in the bud,In all that's fair in nature,In all that's bright and good.
I see thee—oh! I see thee,
In the sunbeam, in the bud,
In all that's fair in nature,
In all that's bright and good.
I hear thee—oh! I hear thee,In the melting music-words,That swell, at joyous morning,From the woodland choir of birds.
I hear thee—oh! I hear thee,
In the melting music-words,
That swell, at joyous morning,
From the woodland choir of birds.
I crave thee—oh! I crave thee,Thou angel sent from God!To beautify the pathway,Which must by me be trod.
I crave thee—oh! I crave thee,
Thou angel sent from God!
To beautify the pathway,
Which must by me be trod.
I love thee—oh! I love thee!And, dearest, I implore,That bliss may still await thee,On Heaven's far brighter shore.
I love thee—oh! I love thee!
And, dearest, I implore,
That bliss may still await thee,
On Heaven's far brighter shore.
A brainless beauty, a would-be coquette,A brow of marble, but a heart of jet;An eye that shows no vestige of the deepAnd stained thoughts that in her bosom sleep:By day a vestal, but by night a bawd;Her ways a riddle, her whole life a fraud;At church an angel, but at home a shrew,Cheating her mother, to her sire untrue;Vain without talent, without merit proud;By all who see her, still a fool allow'd;Without all love, with but the show of truth,She stares and simpers at the scornful youth;Or ambling loosely on the village street,While strangers sneer upon the fool they meet:She lives and moves the true epitomeAnd climax of all d——mn'd Hypocrisy.Here I enshrine her, where all time shall seeHer name preserv'd in deathless infamy.
A brainless beauty, a would-be coquette,A brow of marble, but a heart of jet;An eye that shows no vestige of the deepAnd stained thoughts that in her bosom sleep:By day a vestal, but by night a bawd;Her ways a riddle, her whole life a fraud;At church an angel, but at home a shrew,Cheating her mother, to her sire untrue;Vain without talent, without merit proud;By all who see her, still a fool allow'd;Without all love, with but the show of truth,She stares and simpers at the scornful youth;Or ambling loosely on the village street,While strangers sneer upon the fool they meet:She lives and moves the true epitomeAnd climax of all d——mn'd Hypocrisy.Here I enshrine her, where all time shall seeHer name preserv'd in deathless infamy.
A brainless beauty, a would-be coquette,
A brow of marble, but a heart of jet;
An eye that shows no vestige of the deep
And stained thoughts that in her bosom sleep:
By day a vestal, but by night a bawd;
Her ways a riddle, her whole life a fraud;
At church an angel, but at home a shrew,
Cheating her mother, to her sire untrue;
Vain without talent, without merit proud;
By all who see her, still a fool allow'd;
Without all love, with but the show of truth,
She stares and simpers at the scornful youth;
Or ambling loosely on the village street,
While strangers sneer upon the fool they meet:
She lives and moves the true epitome
And climax of all d——mn'd Hypocrisy.
Here I enshrine her, where all time shall see
Her name preserv'd in deathless infamy.
Far o'er the landscape green,The moonlight like a lake,Lies; 'tis a lovely scene,To bid my lady wake;My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake!The night is rich with smells,Like thoughts from heart of love,Wafted from flower bells,On unseen wings above;My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake!The Nightingale, a wo!Within the grove complains!—The stars are coming lowTo hear her killing strains!My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake!O see! my lady, farBeyond yon western steeps,The moon, with one white star,In paly parting, weeps:My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake!Before the envious day,Shall gaze upon thy charms;Come, lady, come away,And rest lock'd in these arms!My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake!Oh lady, see! the moonHer silver chariot stops,(A list'ning to my tune,)On yonder green oak-tops!My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake!My song can make her pause,But wake and doff that frown,Nor man's, nor God's great laws,Forbid thee to look down:My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake.
Far o'er the landscape green,The moonlight like a lake,Lies; 'tis a lovely scene,To bid my lady wake;My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake!
Far o'er the landscape green,
The moonlight like a lake,
Lies; 'tis a lovely scene,
To bid my lady wake;
My lady, lady, wake,
Wake, oh! wake!
The night is rich with smells,Like thoughts from heart of love,Wafted from flower bells,On unseen wings above;My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake!
The night is rich with smells,
Like thoughts from heart of love,
Wafted from flower bells,
On unseen wings above;
My lady, lady, wake,
Wake, oh! wake!
The Nightingale, a wo!Within the grove complains!—The stars are coming lowTo hear her killing strains!My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake!
The Nightingale, a wo!
Within the grove complains!—
The stars are coming low
To hear her killing strains!
My lady, lady, wake,
Wake, oh! wake!
O see! my lady, farBeyond yon western steeps,The moon, with one white star,In paly parting, weeps:My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake!
O see! my lady, far
Beyond yon western steeps,
The moon, with one white star,
In paly parting, weeps:
My lady, lady, wake,
Wake, oh! wake!
Before the envious day,Shall gaze upon thy charms;Come, lady, come away,And rest lock'd in these arms!My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake!
Before the envious day,
Shall gaze upon thy charms;
Come, lady, come away,
And rest lock'd in these arms!
My lady, lady, wake,
Wake, oh! wake!
Oh lady, see! the moonHer silver chariot stops,(A list'ning to my tune,)On yonder green oak-tops!My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake!
Oh lady, see! the moon
Her silver chariot stops,
(A list'ning to my tune,)
On yonder green oak-tops!
My lady, lady, wake,
Wake, oh! wake!
My song can make her pause,But wake and doff that frown,Nor man's, nor God's great laws,Forbid thee to look down:My lady, lady, wake,Wake, oh! wake.
My song can make her pause,
But wake and doff that frown,
Nor man's, nor God's great laws,
Forbid thee to look down:
My lady, lady, wake,
Wake, oh! wake.
The old mill-wheel, it turns, it turnsThroughout the livelong day,And flings the current of the stream,Abroad in glist'ning spray:That old, black wheel has turn'd for years,Beside the mossy mill,That stands, like some old, sacred thing,Beneath the clay-red hill.The old mill-wheel, it turns, it turnsLike time's unresting one,Which day and night, and night and day,Hath never ceased to run:The old mill-wheel, an emblem true,Of Time that ne'er stands still,I love to see it turning so,Beside the mossy mill.The old mill-wheel, it turns, it turns,As in my childhood's hour;—As when I bathed beneath its rim,In its refreshing shower:But they who were my comrades then,Are sleeping on the hill,And now, to them, forever now,The old Mill-wheel stands still.
The old mill-wheel, it turns, it turnsThroughout the livelong day,And flings the current of the stream,Abroad in glist'ning spray:That old, black wheel has turn'd for years,Beside the mossy mill,That stands, like some old, sacred thing,Beneath the clay-red hill.
The old mill-wheel, it turns, it turns
Throughout the livelong day,
And flings the current of the stream,
Abroad in glist'ning spray:
That old, black wheel has turn'd for years,
Beside the mossy mill,
That stands, like some old, sacred thing,
Beneath the clay-red hill.
The old mill-wheel, it turns, it turnsLike time's unresting one,Which day and night, and night and day,Hath never ceased to run:The old mill-wheel, an emblem true,Of Time that ne'er stands still,I love to see it turning so,Beside the mossy mill.
The old mill-wheel, it turns, it turns
Like time's unresting one,
Which day and night, and night and day,
Hath never ceased to run:
The old mill-wheel, an emblem true,
Of Time that ne'er stands still,
I love to see it turning so,
Beside the mossy mill.
The old mill-wheel, it turns, it turns,As in my childhood's hour;—As when I bathed beneath its rim,In its refreshing shower:But they who were my comrades then,Are sleeping on the hill,And now, to them, forever now,The old Mill-wheel stands still.
The old mill-wheel, it turns, it turns,
As in my childhood's hour;—
As when I bathed beneath its rim,
In its refreshing shower:
But they who were my comrades then,
Are sleeping on the hill,
And now, to them, forever now,
The old Mill-wheel stands still.
How sombre is the gloom!I see no beam of star,Gleam o'er the garden's bloom,Or silent wood afar;So dark the thoughts which shroudHis soul who sings to thee;Oh lady, cold and proud;Who scorn'st to think on me;Lady, lady, wake!List oh! list.The firefly lights the night,A moment and then dies;The lilacs pine for light,With sweet and odorous sighs:So Hope's deceitful beam,Illumines my despair,While I still sigh and dream,With many a sobbing prayer,Lady, lady, list!List and smile!Lo! now the clouds break off,And heaven once more is free;The mounts their garments doff,The mists rise from the sea;From yonder casement highShe looks, she looks, oh see!She bends on me her eyeOf heavenly brilliancy:Lady, lady, dear;Lady dear!
How sombre is the gloom!I see no beam of star,Gleam o'er the garden's bloom,Or silent wood afar;So dark the thoughts which shroudHis soul who sings to thee;Oh lady, cold and proud;Who scorn'st to think on me;Lady, lady, wake!List oh! list.
How sombre is the gloom!
I see no beam of star,
Gleam o'er the garden's bloom,
Or silent wood afar;
So dark the thoughts which shroud
His soul who sings to thee;
Oh lady, cold and proud;
Who scorn'st to think on me;
Lady, lady, wake!
List oh! list.
The firefly lights the night,A moment and then dies;The lilacs pine for light,With sweet and odorous sighs:So Hope's deceitful beam,Illumines my despair,While I still sigh and dream,With many a sobbing prayer,Lady, lady, list!List and smile!
The firefly lights the night,
A moment and then dies;
The lilacs pine for light,
With sweet and odorous sighs:
So Hope's deceitful beam,
Illumines my despair,
While I still sigh and dream,
With many a sobbing prayer,
Lady, lady, list!
List and smile!
Lo! now the clouds break off,And heaven once more is free;The mounts their garments doff,The mists rise from the sea;From yonder casement highShe looks, she looks, oh see!She bends on me her eyeOf heavenly brilliancy:Lady, lady, dear;Lady dear!
Lo! now the clouds break off,
And heaven once more is free;
The mounts their garments doff,
The mists rise from the sea;
From yonder casement high
She looks, she looks, oh see!
She bends on me her eye
Of heavenly brilliancy:
Lady, lady, dear;
Lady dear!
Oh, home of honor, native land,When roaming o'er the sea,The eye still turns, the heart still yearns,O dearest home, for thee.When ranged around the social board,We bid our sorrows flee,We own a pride that we are sons,O dearest home, of thee.If earth retains one single draughtOf pure and tranquil joy,Within whose sweet and sparkling wave,Is mixt no sad alloy;'Tis here we taste it while we sit,Beneath our natal tree,'Tis here it glads our heart of hearts,O dearest home, with thee.When we are cast on foreign shores,Beyond the dark-blue sea,Sad memory oft returns to weep,O dearest home, with thee,And when the knell of death shall come,And set our spirits free,Our hearts shall find their sweetest rest,O dearest home, with thee.
Oh, home of honor, native land,When roaming o'er the sea,The eye still turns, the heart still yearns,O dearest home, for thee.When ranged around the social board,We bid our sorrows flee,We own a pride that we are sons,O dearest home, of thee.
Oh, home of honor, native land,
When roaming o'er the sea,
The eye still turns, the heart still yearns,
O dearest home, for thee.
When ranged around the social board,
We bid our sorrows flee,
We own a pride that we are sons,
O dearest home, of thee.
If earth retains one single draughtOf pure and tranquil joy,Within whose sweet and sparkling wave,Is mixt no sad alloy;'Tis here we taste it while we sit,Beneath our natal tree,'Tis here it glads our heart of hearts,O dearest home, with thee.
If earth retains one single draught
Of pure and tranquil joy,
Within whose sweet and sparkling wave,
Is mixt no sad alloy;
'Tis here we taste it while we sit,
Beneath our natal tree,
'Tis here it glads our heart of hearts,
O dearest home, with thee.
When we are cast on foreign shores,Beyond the dark-blue sea,Sad memory oft returns to weep,O dearest home, with thee,And when the knell of death shall come,And set our spirits free,Our hearts shall find their sweetest rest,O dearest home, with thee.
When we are cast on foreign shores,
Beyond the dark-blue sea,
Sad memory oft returns to weep,
O dearest home, with thee,
And when the knell of death shall come,
And set our spirits free,
Our hearts shall find their sweetest rest,
O dearest home, with thee.
Heavenly father, God of mercy,Look upon a sinful soul;For, the waves of sad contrition,Now above me darkly roll.Ah! my crimes are dark and grievous,The huge burthen hard to bear;All the day and night I'm sighingWhelm'd in grief and dark despair.Ah! how deeply I have fallenFrom my high and happy state,Where, enrob'd in thy dear image,Once, in tranquil peace, I sate.Black with sores, a loathsome leper,Lo! I wait before Thy throne;Cans't thou, Maker, wilt thou heal me,Make me whole and all thine own?Oh! Thy grace is freely gushing,Boundless is Thy wondrous Love;And for all Thy erring children,Lord, Thy tender bowels move.Hail! Supreme, Exhaustless Mercy,Christ hath freed my soul from sin;And a holy calm comes o'er me,And a heavenly peace within.
Heavenly father, God of mercy,Look upon a sinful soul;For, the waves of sad contrition,Now above me darkly roll.Ah! my crimes are dark and grievous,The huge burthen hard to bear;All the day and night I'm sighingWhelm'd in grief and dark despair.
Heavenly father, God of mercy,
Look upon a sinful soul;
For, the waves of sad contrition,
Now above me darkly roll.
Ah! my crimes are dark and grievous,
The huge burthen hard to bear;
All the day and night I'm sighing
Whelm'd in grief and dark despair.
Ah! how deeply I have fallenFrom my high and happy state,Where, enrob'd in thy dear image,Once, in tranquil peace, I sate.Black with sores, a loathsome leper,Lo! I wait before Thy throne;Cans't thou, Maker, wilt thou heal me,Make me whole and all thine own?
Ah! how deeply I have fallen
From my high and happy state,
Where, enrob'd in thy dear image,
Once, in tranquil peace, I sate.
Black with sores, a loathsome leper,
Lo! I wait before Thy throne;
Cans't thou, Maker, wilt thou heal me,
Make me whole and all thine own?
Oh! Thy grace is freely gushing,Boundless is Thy wondrous Love;And for all Thy erring children,Lord, Thy tender bowels move.Hail! Supreme, Exhaustless Mercy,Christ hath freed my soul from sin;And a holy calm comes o'er me,And a heavenly peace within.
Oh! Thy grace is freely gushing,
Boundless is Thy wondrous Love;
And for all Thy erring children,
Lord, Thy tender bowels move.
Hail! Supreme, Exhaustless Mercy,
Christ hath freed my soul from sin;
And a holy calm comes o'er me,
And a heavenly peace within.
O Birdie! speak to me,Speak from thy silent grave;It doth not roll o'er thee,Death's dark and Stygian wave!Sweet! speak, I'm sick, to hearThe heaven of thy voice,Which wont, while life was dear,To thrill me and rejoice.Speak, Birdie! speak to me!Speak from the flowers which bloom,Beneath the cedar treeThat hides thy dearest tomb!Speak, angel! speak to me;I know thou art not dead,That the dear soul in theeBut, bird-like, upward sped!Yes! Birdie! speak to me,Maid most bright, most dear;Ask, if I'm true to thee,Ask if my grief's sincere?Ask if the warm tears rollFrom my devoted heart?O Birdie! then my soulIn peace shall hence depart.
O Birdie! speak to me,Speak from thy silent grave;It doth not roll o'er thee,Death's dark and Stygian wave!Sweet! speak, I'm sick, to hearThe heaven of thy voice,Which wont, while life was dear,To thrill me and rejoice.
O Birdie! speak to me,
Speak from thy silent grave;
It doth not roll o'er thee,
Death's dark and Stygian wave!
Sweet! speak, I'm sick, to hear
The heaven of thy voice,
Which wont, while life was dear,
To thrill me and rejoice.
Speak, Birdie! speak to me!Speak from the flowers which bloom,Beneath the cedar treeThat hides thy dearest tomb!Speak, angel! speak to me;I know thou art not dead,That the dear soul in theeBut, bird-like, upward sped!
Speak, Birdie! speak to me!
Speak from the flowers which bloom,
Beneath the cedar tree
That hides thy dearest tomb!
Speak, angel! speak to me;
I know thou art not dead,
That the dear soul in thee
But, bird-like, upward sped!
Yes! Birdie! speak to me,Maid most bright, most dear;Ask, if I'm true to thee,Ask if my grief's sincere?Ask if the warm tears rollFrom my devoted heart?O Birdie! then my soulIn peace shall hence depart.
Yes! Birdie! speak to me,
Maid most bright, most dear;
Ask, if I'm true to thee,
Ask if my grief's sincere?
Ask if the warm tears roll
From my devoted heart?
O Birdie! then my soul
In peace shall hence depart.
I love thee, and my trembling lyreWill learn no other strain;I marvel if thy gentle heartWill ever cease disdain;I marvel if our future lives,Will mingle into one,And glitter like a happy stream,In an unclouded sun.I see that mid a wooing throng,Thou art a central star,And vying youths, with noble pride,Have brought their gifts from far:I only think the smiles thou giv'st,So freely unto them,If given to me, would bless me more,Than thrones or diadem.I love thee, and this throbbing heart,From thrall no longer free,Must heave in joy, or ache with wo,Till Death's dark hour, for thee.I feel that I must know thy love,Or all of life will beOne long, deep wail, one throb of pain,One speechless agony.
I love thee, and my trembling lyreWill learn no other strain;I marvel if thy gentle heartWill ever cease disdain;I marvel if our future lives,Will mingle into one,And glitter like a happy stream,In an unclouded sun.
I love thee, and my trembling lyre
Will learn no other strain;
I marvel if thy gentle heart
Will ever cease disdain;
I marvel if our future lives,
Will mingle into one,
And glitter like a happy stream,
In an unclouded sun.
I see that mid a wooing throng,Thou art a central star,And vying youths, with noble pride,Have brought their gifts from far:I only think the smiles thou giv'st,So freely unto them,If given to me, would bless me more,Than thrones or diadem.
I see that mid a wooing throng,
Thou art a central star,
And vying youths, with noble pride,
Have brought their gifts from far:
I only think the smiles thou giv'st,
So freely unto them,
If given to me, would bless me more,
Than thrones or diadem.
I love thee, and this throbbing heart,From thrall no longer free,Must heave in joy, or ache with wo,Till Death's dark hour, for thee.I feel that I must know thy love,Or all of life will beOne long, deep wail, one throb of pain,One speechless agony.
I love thee, and this throbbing heart,
From thrall no longer free,
Must heave in joy, or ache with wo,
Till Death's dark hour, for thee.
I feel that I must know thy love,
Or all of life will be
One long, deep wail, one throb of pain,
One speechless agony.
With none to share my ship with me,A wand'rer o'er life's stormy sea,One brilliant star, like lamp of love,Smiles calmly from its throne above.Oh! brightly o'er the surging wave,That lustre shines to bless and save;And on through billows thund'ring roll,Conducts me to my heavenly goal.That star by gracious Love was placed,To look, in beauty uneffaced,Over the wildest wrath of storms,And scatter round its glittering charms:It is Religion, and its rayIs fed by angel hands alway:It beams with beauty so divine,The wand'rer smiles to see it shine.Hail, one bright star on all life's main;Though surf roll high, and cordage strain;And cowards, ship! may quake for thee;Thou walk'st victorious o'er the sea.Oh! proudly, as an ocean-queen,Thy frame, majestic still is seen—Until thou rest in heaven at last,Thy sailing done, thy anchor cast.
With none to share my ship with me,A wand'rer o'er life's stormy sea,One brilliant star, like lamp of love,Smiles calmly from its throne above.Oh! brightly o'er the surging wave,That lustre shines to bless and save;And on through billows thund'ring roll,Conducts me to my heavenly goal.
With none to share my ship with me,
A wand'rer o'er life's stormy sea,
One brilliant star, like lamp of love,
Smiles calmly from its throne above.
Oh! brightly o'er the surging wave,
That lustre shines to bless and save;
And on through billows thund'ring roll,
Conducts me to my heavenly goal.
That star by gracious Love was placed,To look, in beauty uneffaced,Over the wildest wrath of storms,And scatter round its glittering charms:It is Religion, and its rayIs fed by angel hands alway:It beams with beauty so divine,The wand'rer smiles to see it shine.
That star by gracious Love was placed,
To look, in beauty uneffaced,
Over the wildest wrath of storms,
And scatter round its glittering charms:
It is Religion, and its ray
Is fed by angel hands alway:
It beams with beauty so divine,
The wand'rer smiles to see it shine.
Hail, one bright star on all life's main;Though surf roll high, and cordage strain;And cowards, ship! may quake for thee;Thou walk'st victorious o'er the sea.Oh! proudly, as an ocean-queen,Thy frame, majestic still is seen—Until thou rest in heaven at last,Thy sailing done, thy anchor cast.
Hail, one bright star on all life's main;
Though surf roll high, and cordage strain;
And cowards, ship! may quake for thee;
Thou walk'st victorious o'er the sea.
Oh! proudly, as an ocean-queen,
Thy frame, majestic still is seen—
Until thou rest in heaven at last,
Thy sailing done, thy anchor cast.
Why, beauteous Bettie, longer shedPearly showers of causeless grief,Why bend down that lovely head,Like the autumn's rain-wash'd leaf?Though in weeping, sad distress,Thy dear charms have lovelier grown,As drench'd Nature o'er her dress,Wears the rainbow's splendid zone.Yet why shed those beaded pearlsFrom those eyes of softest blue,And why loose those auburn curlsO'er that sweet neck's damask hue?Every liquid, falling gem,Flashing like the diamond's ray,In an eastern diadem,Let me kiss them all away.Then, from out this stormy gloom,Thy dear smile shall brightly steal;O'er my heart's enliven'd bloom,O'er the joy thy thoughts reveal.Why, beauteous Bettie! longer shed,Showers of pearls so bright to see?Bid dark doubt be quickly sped,I am faithful still to thee.
Why, beauteous Bettie, longer shedPearly showers of causeless grief,Why bend down that lovely head,Like the autumn's rain-wash'd leaf?
Why, beauteous Bettie, longer shed
Pearly showers of causeless grief,
Why bend down that lovely head,
Like the autumn's rain-wash'd leaf?
Though in weeping, sad distress,Thy dear charms have lovelier grown,As drench'd Nature o'er her dress,Wears the rainbow's splendid zone.
Though in weeping, sad distress,
Thy dear charms have lovelier grown,
As drench'd Nature o'er her dress,
Wears the rainbow's splendid zone.
Yet why shed those beaded pearlsFrom those eyes of softest blue,And why loose those auburn curlsO'er that sweet neck's damask hue?
Yet why shed those beaded pearls
From those eyes of softest blue,
And why loose those auburn curls
O'er that sweet neck's damask hue?
Every liquid, falling gem,Flashing like the diamond's ray,In an eastern diadem,Let me kiss them all away.
Every liquid, falling gem,
Flashing like the diamond's ray,
In an eastern diadem,
Let me kiss them all away.
Then, from out this stormy gloom,Thy dear smile shall brightly steal;O'er my heart's enliven'd bloom,O'er the joy thy thoughts reveal.
Then, from out this stormy gloom,
Thy dear smile shall brightly steal;
O'er my heart's enliven'd bloom,
O'er the joy thy thoughts reveal.
Why, beauteous Bettie! longer shed,Showers of pearls so bright to see?Bid dark doubt be quickly sped,I am faithful still to thee.
Why, beauteous Bettie! longer shed,
Showers of pearls so bright to see?
Bid dark doubt be quickly sped,
I am faithful still to thee.
Rock'd on Mamma's heaving breast,Heaving like the pearly deep,Hugg'd to that sweet, honey rest,Sleep, little baby, sleep,Baby sleep.White like the new moon's falling beams,O'er the wooded, westward steeps,Falls the white throng of her dreams,While my baby sleeps,Oh, she sleeps.Closed her soft and sparkling eyes,Oped her mouth like a tulip's cup,In a starry trance she lies,Like a bud at night shut up;Baby sleeps.Around her scarcely parted lips,Now a smile—a laughter!—creeps,Losing all their sad eclipse—Angels near! while baby sleepsDeeply sleeps.Rock'd upon dear Mamma's breast,Heaving like the wild sea deeps,Joy hath brought Mamma sweet rest,While our baby sleeps,Softly sleeps.
Rock'd on Mamma's heaving breast,Heaving like the pearly deep,Hugg'd to that sweet, honey rest,Sleep, little baby, sleep,Baby sleep.
Rock'd on Mamma's heaving breast,
Heaving like the pearly deep,
Hugg'd to that sweet, honey rest,
Sleep, little baby, sleep,
Baby sleep.
White like the new moon's falling beams,O'er the wooded, westward steeps,Falls the white throng of her dreams,While my baby sleeps,Oh, she sleeps.
White like the new moon's falling beams,
O'er the wooded, westward steeps,
Falls the white throng of her dreams,
While my baby sleeps,
Oh, she sleeps.
Closed her soft and sparkling eyes,Oped her mouth like a tulip's cup,In a starry trance she lies,Like a bud at night shut up;Baby sleeps.
Closed her soft and sparkling eyes,
Oped her mouth like a tulip's cup,
In a starry trance she lies,
Like a bud at night shut up;
Baby sleeps.
Around her scarcely parted lips,Now a smile—a laughter!—creeps,Losing all their sad eclipse—Angels near! while baby sleepsDeeply sleeps.
Around her scarcely parted lips,
Now a smile—a laughter!—creeps,
Losing all their sad eclipse—
Angels near! while baby sleeps
Deeply sleeps.
Rock'd upon dear Mamma's breast,Heaving like the wild sea deeps,Joy hath brought Mamma sweet rest,While our baby sleeps,Softly sleeps.
Rock'd upon dear Mamma's breast,
Heaving like the wild sea deeps,
Joy hath brought Mamma sweet rest,
While our baby sleeps,
Softly sleeps.
Around my old Virginia home,My heart forever clings;Whene'er I hear its name pronounced,I think a thousand things.I think how once a little band,Came to these forest lands;And struggling long, built this fair home,And left it to our hands.I think how our forefathers fought,To keep it free from chains,How they rejoic'd at vict'ry won,With loud, triumphal strains.My cherish'd old Virginia home,Tears, tears come to my eyes,When thinking on thee, loveliest land,Beneath the boundless skies!
Around my old Virginia home,My heart forever clings;Whene'er I hear its name pronounced,I think a thousand things.I think how once a little band,Came to these forest lands;And struggling long, built this fair home,And left it to our hands.
Around my old Virginia home,
My heart forever clings;
Whene'er I hear its name pronounced,
I think a thousand things.
I think how once a little band,
Came to these forest lands;
And struggling long, built this fair home,
And left it to our hands.
I think how our forefathers fought,To keep it free from chains,How they rejoic'd at vict'ry won,With loud, triumphal strains.My cherish'd old Virginia home,Tears, tears come to my eyes,When thinking on thee, loveliest land,Beneath the boundless skies!
I think how our forefathers fought,
To keep it free from chains,
How they rejoic'd at vict'ry won,
With loud, triumphal strains.
My cherish'd old Virginia home,
Tears, tears come to my eyes,
When thinking on thee, loveliest land,
Beneath the boundless skies!
Take back those pledges, dearest maid,Which once I warmly gave,For then I dreamed I would be free,And nevermore thy slave.Yes! take them back once more, for loveHath made me only thine;And I should give these gems away,Whose heart's no longer mine.'Tis said the heart can often love,But that can never be;Though I have bow'd at other shrines,I never loved but thee.I feel that thou art dearer farThan aught this world can give,And come what may, come grief or joy,For only thee I live.Yes! take those pledges back, dear maid,And let them fondly speak,The deathless flame that will not fail,In spring, or winter bleak:For they have told an honest tale,That I shall change no more,Till I shall clasp thy form againOn Heaven's eternal shore.
Take back those pledges, dearest maid,Which once I warmly gave,For then I dreamed I would be free,And nevermore thy slave.Yes! take them back once more, for loveHath made me only thine;And I should give these gems away,Whose heart's no longer mine.
Take back those pledges, dearest maid,
Which once I warmly gave,
For then I dreamed I would be free,
And nevermore thy slave.
Yes! take them back once more, for love
Hath made me only thine;
And I should give these gems away,
Whose heart's no longer mine.
'Tis said the heart can often love,But that can never be;Though I have bow'd at other shrines,I never loved but thee.I feel that thou art dearer farThan aught this world can give,And come what may, come grief or joy,For only thee I live.
'Tis said the heart can often love,
But that can never be;
Though I have bow'd at other shrines,
I never loved but thee.
I feel that thou art dearer far
Than aught this world can give,
And come what may, come grief or joy,
For only thee I live.
Yes! take those pledges back, dear maid,And let them fondly speak,The deathless flame that will not fail,In spring, or winter bleak:For they have told an honest tale,That I shall change no more,Till I shall clasp thy form againOn Heaven's eternal shore.
Yes! take those pledges back, dear maid,
And let them fondly speak,
The deathless flame that will not fail,
In spring, or winter bleak:
For they have told an honest tale,
That I shall change no more,
Till I shall clasp thy form again
On Heaven's eternal shore.