[6]Heath bed-straw (Galium Saxatile). This white-flowered bed-straw grows profusely on Hampstead Heath.
[6]Heath bed-straw (Galium Saxatile). This white-flowered bed-straw grows profusely on Hampstead Heath.
Child.
Five blue eggs hatching,With bright eyes watching,Little brown mother, you sit on your nest.
Five blue eggs hatching,With bright eyes watching,Little brown mother, you sit on your nest.
Bird.
Oh! pass me blindly,Oh! spare me kindly,Pity my terror, and leave me to rest.
Oh! pass me blindly,Oh! spare me kindly,Pity my terror, and leave me to rest.
Chorus of Children.
Hush! hush! hush!'Tis a poor mother thrush.When the blue eggs hatch, the brown birds will sing—This is a promise made in the Spring.
Hush! hush! hush!'Tis a poor mother thrush.When the blue eggs hatch, the brown birds will sing—This is a promise made in the Spring.
Child.
Five speckled thrushesIn leafy bushesSinging sweet songs to the hot Summer sky.In and out twitting,Here and there flitting,Happy is life as the long days go by.
Five speckled thrushesIn leafy bushesSinging sweet songs to the hot Summer sky.In and out twitting,Here and there flitting,Happy is life as the long days go by.
Chorus.
Hush! hush! hush!'Tis the song of the thrush:Hatched are the blue eggs; the brown birds do sing—Keeping the promise made in the Spring.
Hush! hush! hush!'Tis the song of the thrush:Hatched are the blue eggs; the brown birds do sing—Keeping the promise made in the Spring.
Published inAunt Judy's Magazine, July 1866, with music by Alexander Ewing.
Hold my hand, little Sister, and nurse my head, whilst I try to remember the word,What was it?—that the doctor says is now fairly established both in me and my bird.C-O-N-con,with a con, S-T-A-N-stan,with a stan—No! That's Constantinople, that isThe capital of the country where rhubarb-and-magnesia comes from, and I wish they would keep it in that country, and not send it to this.C-O-N-con—how my head swims! Now I've got it! C-O-N-V-A-L-E-S-C-E-N-C-E.Convalescence!And that's what the doctor says is now fairly established both in my blackbird and me.He says it means that you are better, and that you'll be well by and by.And so the Sea-captain says, and he says we ought to be friends, because we're both convalescents—at least we're all three convalescents, my blackbird, and the Captain and I.He's a sea-captain, not a land-captain, but, all the same, he was in the war,And he fought,—for I asked him,—and he's been ill ever since, and that's why he's not afloat, but ashore;And why somebody else has got his ship; and she behaved so beautifully in the battle, and he loves her quite as much as his wife, and rather better than the rest of his relations, for I asked him; and now he's afraid she will never belong to him any more.I like him. I've seen him three times out walking with two sticks, when I was driving in the bath-chair, but I never talked to him till to-day.He'd only one stick and a telescope, and he let me look through it at the big ship that was coming round the corner into the bay.He was very kind, and let me ask questions. I said, "Are you a sea-captain?" and he said, "Yes." And I said, "How funny it is about land things and sea things!There are captains and sea-captains, and weeds and sea-weeds, and serpents and sea-serpents. Did you ever meet one, and is it really like the dragons on our very old best blue tea-things?"But he never did. So I asked him, "Have you got convalescence? Does your doctor say it is fairly established? Do your eyes ache if you try to read, and your neck if you draw, and your back if you sit up, and your head if you talk?Don't you get tired of doing nothing, and worse tired still if you do anything; and does everything wobble about when you walk?Wouldn't you rather go back to bed? I think I would. Don't you wish you were well? Wouldn't you rather be ill than only better? I do hate convalescence, don't you?"Then I stopped asking, and he shut up his telescope, and sat down on the shingle, and said, "When you come to my age, little chap, you won't think 'What is it I'd rather have?' but, 'What is it I've got to do?''What have I got to do or to bear; and how can I do it or bear it best?'That's the only safe point to make for, my lad. Make for it, and leave the rest!"I said, "Butwouldn'tyou rather be in battles than in bed, with your head aching as if it would split?"And he said, "Of course I would; so would most men. But, my little convalescent, that's not it.What wouldyouthink of a man who was ordered into battle, and went grumbling and wishing he were in bed?""What should I think of the fellow? Why, I should know he was a coward," I said."And if he were confined to bed," said the Sea-captain, "and lay grumbling and wishing he were in battle, I should give him no better a name;For the courage that dares, and the courage that bears, are really one and the same."Hold my hand, little Sister, and nurse my head, for I'm thinking, and I very much fearYou've had no good of being well since I was ill; I've led you such a life; but indeed I am obliged to you, dear!Is it true that Nurse has got something the matter with her legs, and that Mary has gone home because she's worn out with nursing,And won't be fit to work for months? (willshebe convalescent, because it was such hard work waiting onme?) and did Cook say, "So much grumbling and complaining is nigh as big a sin as swearing and cursing"?I wish I hadn't been so cross with poor Mary, and I wish I hadn't given so much trouble about my medicine and my food.I didn't think about her. I only thought what a bother it was. I wish I hadn't thought so much about being miserable, that I never thought of trying to be good.I believe the Sea-captain is right, and I shall tell him so to-morrow, when he comes here to tea;He's going to look at my blackbird's leg, and if it is really set, he wants me to let it go free.He says captivity is worse than convalescence, and so I should think it must be.Are you tired, little Sister? You feel shaky. Don't beg my pardon; I beg yours. I've not let you go out of my sight for weeks. Get your things on, and have a gallop on Jack.Ride round this way and let me see you. I won't say a word about wishing I was going too; and if my head gets bad whilst you're away, I will bear it my very best till you come back.Tell me one thing before you start. If I learn to be patient, shall I learn to be brave, do you think? The Sea-captain says so.He says, "Self-command is the making of a man," and he's a finely-made man himself, so he ought to know.Perhaps, if I try hard at Convalescence now, I may become a brave sea-captain hereafter, and take my beautiful ship into battle, and bring her out again with flying colours and fame,If the courage that dares, and the courage that bears,arereally one and the same.
Hold my hand, little Sister, and nurse my head, whilst I try to remember the word,What was it?—that the doctor says is now fairly established both in me and my bird.C-O-N-con,with a con, S-T-A-N-stan,with a stan—No! That's Constantinople, that isThe capital of the country where rhubarb-and-magnesia comes from, and I wish they would keep it in that country, and not send it to this.C-O-N-con—how my head swims! Now I've got it! C-O-N-V-A-L-E-S-C-E-N-C-E.Convalescence!And that's what the doctor says is now fairly established both in my blackbird and me.He says it means that you are better, and that you'll be well by and by.And so the Sea-captain says, and he says we ought to be friends, because we're both convalescents—at least we're all three convalescents, my blackbird, and the Captain and I.He's a sea-captain, not a land-captain, but, all the same, he was in the war,And he fought,—for I asked him,—and he's been ill ever since, and that's why he's not afloat, but ashore;And why somebody else has got his ship; and she behaved so beautifully in the battle, and he loves her quite as much as his wife, and rather better than the rest of his relations, for I asked him; and now he's afraid she will never belong to him any more.I like him. I've seen him three times out walking with two sticks, when I was driving in the bath-chair, but I never talked to him till to-day.He'd only one stick and a telescope, and he let me look through it at the big ship that was coming round the corner into the bay.He was very kind, and let me ask questions. I said, "Are you a sea-captain?" and he said, "Yes." And I said, "How funny it is about land things and sea things!There are captains and sea-captains, and weeds and sea-weeds, and serpents and sea-serpents. Did you ever meet one, and is it really like the dragons on our very old best blue tea-things?"But he never did. So I asked him, "Have you got convalescence? Does your doctor say it is fairly established? Do your eyes ache if you try to read, and your neck if you draw, and your back if you sit up, and your head if you talk?Don't you get tired of doing nothing, and worse tired still if you do anything; and does everything wobble about when you walk?Wouldn't you rather go back to bed? I think I would. Don't you wish you were well? Wouldn't you rather be ill than only better? I do hate convalescence, don't you?"Then I stopped asking, and he shut up his telescope, and sat down on the shingle, and said, "When you come to my age, little chap, you won't think 'What is it I'd rather have?' but, 'What is it I've got to do?''What have I got to do or to bear; and how can I do it or bear it best?'That's the only safe point to make for, my lad. Make for it, and leave the rest!"I said, "Butwouldn'tyou rather be in battles than in bed, with your head aching as if it would split?"And he said, "Of course I would; so would most men. But, my little convalescent, that's not it.What wouldyouthink of a man who was ordered into battle, and went grumbling and wishing he were in bed?""What should I think of the fellow? Why, I should know he was a coward," I said."And if he were confined to bed," said the Sea-captain, "and lay grumbling and wishing he were in battle, I should give him no better a name;For the courage that dares, and the courage that bears, are really one and the same."Hold my hand, little Sister, and nurse my head, for I'm thinking, and I very much fearYou've had no good of being well since I was ill; I've led you such a life; but indeed I am obliged to you, dear!Is it true that Nurse has got something the matter with her legs, and that Mary has gone home because she's worn out with nursing,And won't be fit to work for months? (willshebe convalescent, because it was such hard work waiting onme?) and did Cook say, "So much grumbling and complaining is nigh as big a sin as swearing and cursing"?I wish I hadn't been so cross with poor Mary, and I wish I hadn't given so much trouble about my medicine and my food.I didn't think about her. I only thought what a bother it was. I wish I hadn't thought so much about being miserable, that I never thought of trying to be good.I believe the Sea-captain is right, and I shall tell him so to-morrow, when he comes here to tea;He's going to look at my blackbird's leg, and if it is really set, he wants me to let it go free.He says captivity is worse than convalescence, and so I should think it must be.Are you tired, little Sister? You feel shaky. Don't beg my pardon; I beg yours. I've not let you go out of my sight for weeks. Get your things on, and have a gallop on Jack.Ride round this way and let me see you. I won't say a word about wishing I was going too; and if my head gets bad whilst you're away, I will bear it my very best till you come back.Tell me one thing before you start. If I learn to be patient, shall I learn to be brave, do you think? The Sea-captain says so.He says, "Self-command is the making of a man," and he's a finely-made man himself, so he ought to know.Perhaps, if I try hard at Convalescence now, I may become a brave sea-captain hereafter, and take my beautiful ship into battle, and bring her out again with flying colours and fame,If the courage that dares, and the courage that bears,arereally one and the same.
THE ADVENTURES OF AN ELF.
I.
Dear children, listen whilst I tellWhat to a certain Elf befell,Who left his house and sallied forthAdventure seeking, south and north,And west and east, by path and field,Resolved to conquer or to yield.A thimble on his back he carried,With a rose-twig his foes he parried.
Dear children, listen whilst I tellWhat to a certain Elf befell,Who left his house and sallied forthAdventure seeking, south and north,And west and east, by path and field,Resolved to conquer or to yield.A thimble on his back he carried,With a rose-twig his foes he parried.
THE ADVENTURES OF AN ELF.
II.
It was a sunny, bright, spring day,When to the wood he took his way;He knew that in a certain spotA Bumble Bee his nest had got.The Bee was out, the chance was good,But just when grabbing all he could,He heard the Bee behind him humming,And only wished he'd heard him coming!
It was a sunny, bright, spring day,When to the wood he took his way;He knew that in a certain spotA Bumble Bee his nest had got.The Bee was out, the chance was good,But just when grabbing all he could,He heard the Bee behind him humming,And only wished he'd heard him coming!
THE ADVENTURES OF AN ELF.
III.
In terror turned the tiny man,And now a famous fight began:The Bee flew round, and buzzed and stung,The Elf his prickly rose-staff swung.Now fiercely here, now wildly there,He hit the Bee or fought the air.At last one weighty blow descended:The Bee was dead—the fight was ended.
In terror turned the tiny man,And now a famous fight began:The Bee flew round, and buzzed and stung,The Elf his prickly rose-staff swung.Now fiercely here, now wildly there,He hit the Bee or fought the air.At last one weighty blow descended:The Bee was dead—the fight was ended.
THE ADVENTURES OF AN ELF.
IV.
Exhausted quite, he took a seat.The honey tasted doubly sweet!The thimble-full had been upset,But still there were a few drops yet.He licked his lips and blessed himself,That he was such a lucky Elf,And now might hope to live in clover;But, ah! his troubles were not over!
Exhausted quite, he took a seat.The honey tasted doubly sweet!The thimble-full had been upset,But still there were a few drops yet.He licked his lips and blessed himself,That he was such a lucky Elf,And now might hope to live in clover;But, ah! his troubles were not over!
THE ADVENTURES OF AN ELF.
V.
For at that instant, by his side,A beast of fearful form he spied:At first he thought it was a bear,And headlong fell in dire despair.He lost one slipper in the moss,And this was not his only loss.With paws and snout the beast was nimble,And very soon cleared out the thimble.
For at that instant, by his side,A beast of fearful form he spied:At first he thought it was a bear,And headlong fell in dire despair.He lost one slipper in the moss,And this was not his only loss.With paws and snout the beast was nimble,And very soon cleared out the thimble.
THE ADVENTURES OF AN ELF.
VI.
This rifling of his honey-potAwoke our Elfin's wrath full hot.He made a rope of linden bast,By either end he held it fast,And creeping up behind the beast,Intent upon the honey feast,Before it had the slightest inkling,The rope was round it in a twinkling.
This rifling of his honey-potAwoke our Elfin's wrath full hot.He made a rope of linden bast,By either end he held it fast,And creeping up behind the beast,Intent upon the honey feast,Before it had the slightest inkling,The rope was round it in a twinkling.
THE ADVENTURES OF AN ELF.
VII.
The mouse shrieked "Murder!" "Fire!" and "Thieves!"And struggled through the twigs and leaves.It pulled the reins with all its might,Our hero only drew them tight.Upon the mouse's back he leapt,And like a man his seat he kept.His steed was terribly affrighted,But he himself was much delighted.
The mouse shrieked "Murder!" "Fire!" and "Thieves!"And struggled through the twigs and leaves.It pulled the reins with all its might,Our hero only drew them tight.Upon the mouse's back he leapt,And like a man his seat he kept.His steed was terribly affrighted,But he himself was much delighted.
THE ADVENTURES OF AN ELF.
VIII.
"Gee up, my little horse!" he cried,"I mean to have a glorious ride;So bear me forth with lightning speed,A Knight resolved on doughty deed.The wide world we will gallop round,And clear the hedges at one bound."The mouse set off, the hero bantered,And out into the world they cantered.
"Gee up, my little horse!" he cried,"I mean to have a glorious ride;So bear me forth with lightning speed,A Knight resolved on doughty deed.The wide world we will gallop round,And clear the hedges at one bound."The mouse set off, the hero bantered,And out into the world they cantered.
THE ADVENTURES OF AN ELF.
IX.
At last they rode up to an inn:"Good Mr. Host, pray who's within?""My daughter serves the customers,Before the fire the Tom-cat purrs."For further news they did not wait—The mouse sprang through the garden-gate—They fled without a look behind them.The question is—Did Thomas find them?
At last they rode up to an inn:"Good Mr. Host, pray who's within?""My daughter serves the customers,Before the fire the Tom-cat purrs."For further news they did not wait—The mouse sprang through the garden-gate—They fled without a look behind them.The question is—Did Thomas find them?
I would not have you wake for me,Fair lady, though I love you!And though the night is warm, and allThe stars are out above you;And though the dew's so light it couldNot hurt your little feet,And nightingales in yonder woodAre singing passing sweet.Yet may my plaintive strain uniteAnd mingle with your dreaming,And through the visions of the nightJust interweave my seeming.Yet no! sleep on with fancy freeIn that untroubled breast;No song of mine, no thought of me,Deserves to break your rest!
I would not have you wake for me,Fair lady, though I love you!And though the night is warm, and allThe stars are out above you;And though the dew's so light it couldNot hurt your little feet,And nightingales in yonder woodAre singing passing sweet.
Yet may my plaintive strain uniteAnd mingle with your dreaming,And through the visions of the nightJust interweave my seeming.Yet no! sleep on with fancy freeIn that untroubled breast;No song of mine, no thought of me,Deserves to break your rest!
Maiden with the gipsy look,Dusky locks and russet hue,Open wide thy Sybil's book,Tell my fate and tell it true;Shall I live? or shall I die?Timely wed, or single be?Maiden with the gipsy eye,Read my riddle unto me!Maiden with the gipsy face,If thou canst not tell me all,Tell me thus much, of thy grace,Should I climb, or fear to fall?Should I dare, or dread to dare?Should I speak, or silent be?Maiden with the gipsy hair,Read my riddle unto me!Maiden with the gipsy hair,Deep into thy mirror look,See my love and fortune there,Clearer than in Sybil's book:Let me cross thy slender palm,Let me learn my fate from thee;Maiden with the gipsy charm,Read my riddle unto me.
Maiden with the gipsy look,Dusky locks and russet hue,Open wide thy Sybil's book,Tell my fate and tell it true;Shall I live? or shall I die?Timely wed, or single be?Maiden with the gipsy eye,Read my riddle unto me!
Maiden with the gipsy face,If thou canst not tell me all,Tell me thus much, of thy grace,Should I climb, or fear to fall?Should I dare, or dread to dare?Should I speak, or silent be?Maiden with the gipsy hair,Read my riddle unto me!
Maiden with the gipsy hair,Deep into thy mirror look,See my love and fortune there,Clearer than in Sybil's book:Let me cross thy slender palm,Let me learn my fate from thee;Maiden with the gipsy charm,Read my riddle unto me.
The whispering water rocks the reeds,And, murmuring softly, laps the weeds;And nurses there the falsest bloomThat ever wrought a lover's doom.Forget me not! Forget me not!Ah! would I could forget!But, crying still, "Forget me not,"Her image haunts me yet.We wander'd by the river's brim,The day grew dusk, the pathway dim;Her eyes like stars dispell'd the gloom,Her gleaming fingers pluck'd the bloom.Forget me not! Forget me not!Ah! would I could forget!But, crying still, "Forget me not,"Her image haunts me yet.The pale moon lit her paler face,And coldly watch'd our last embrace,And chill'd her tresses' sunny hue,And stole that flower's turquoise blue.Forget me not! Forget me not!Ah! would I could forget!But, crying still, "Forget me not,"Her image haunts me yet.The fateful flower droop'd to death,The fair, false maid forswore her faith;But I obey a broken vow,And keep those wither'd blossoms now!Forget me not! Forget me not!Ah! would I could forget!But, crying still, "Forget me not,"Her image haunts me yet.Sweet lips that pray'd—"Forget me not!"Sweet eyes that will not be forgot!Recall your prayer, forego your power,Which binds me by the fatal flower.Forget me not! Forget me not!Ah! would I could forget!But, crying still, "Forget me not,"Her image haunts me yet.
The whispering water rocks the reeds,And, murmuring softly, laps the weeds;And nurses there the falsest bloomThat ever wrought a lover's doom.Forget me not! Forget me not!Ah! would I could forget!But, crying still, "Forget me not,"Her image haunts me yet.
We wander'd by the river's brim,The day grew dusk, the pathway dim;Her eyes like stars dispell'd the gloom,Her gleaming fingers pluck'd the bloom.Forget me not! Forget me not!Ah! would I could forget!But, crying still, "Forget me not,"Her image haunts me yet.
The pale moon lit her paler face,And coldly watch'd our last embrace,And chill'd her tresses' sunny hue,And stole that flower's turquoise blue.Forget me not! Forget me not!Ah! would I could forget!But, crying still, "Forget me not,"Her image haunts me yet.
The fateful flower droop'd to death,The fair, false maid forswore her faith;But I obey a broken vow,And keep those wither'd blossoms now!Forget me not! Forget me not!Ah! would I could forget!But, crying still, "Forget me not,"Her image haunts me yet.
Sweet lips that pray'd—"Forget me not!"Sweet eyes that will not be forgot!Recall your prayer, forego your power,Which binds me by the fatal flower.Forget me not! Forget me not!Ah! would I could forget!But, crying still, "Forget me not,"Her image haunts me yet.
Life is full of trouble,Love is full of care,Joy is like a bubbleShining in the air,For you cannotGrasp it anywhere.Love is not worth getting,It doth fade so fast.Life is not worth frettingWhich so soon is past;And you cannotBid them longer last.Yet for certain fellowsLife seems true and strong;And with some, they tell us,Love will linger long;Thus they cannotUnderstand my song.
Life is full of trouble,Love is full of care,Joy is like a bubbleShining in the air,For you cannotGrasp it anywhere.
Love is not worth getting,It doth fade so fast.Life is not worth frettingWhich so soon is past;And you cannotBid them longer last.
Yet for certain fellowsLife seems true and strong;And with some, they tell us,Love will linger long;Thus they cannotUnderstand my song.
Elleree! O Elleree!Seeing what none else may see,Dost thou see the man in grey?Dost thou hear the night hounds bay?Elleree! O Elleree!Seventh son of seventh son,All thy thread of life is spun,Thy little race is nearly run,And death awaits for thee!Elleree! O Elleree!Coronach shall wail for thee;Get thee shrived and get thee blest,Get thee ready for thy rest,Elleree! O Elleree!That thou owest quickly give,What thou ownest thou must leave,And those thou lovest best shall grieve,But all in vain for thee!
Elleree! O Elleree!Seeing what none else may see,Dost thou see the man in grey?Dost thou hear the night hounds bay?Elleree! O Elleree!Seventh son of seventh son,All thy thread of life is spun,Thy little race is nearly run,And death awaits for thee!
Elleree! O Elleree!Coronach shall wail for thee;Get thee shrived and get thee blest,Get thee ready for thy rest,Elleree! O Elleree!That thou owest quickly give,What thou ownest thou must leave,And those thou lovest best shall grieve,But all in vain for thee!
"Bodach Glas!"[8]the chieftain said,"All my debts but one are paid,All I love have long been dead,All my hopes on Heaven are stay'd,Death to me can bring no dole;"Thus the Elleree replied;—But with ebbing of the tideAs sinks the setting sun he died;—May Christ receive his soul!
"Bodach Glas!"[8]the chieftain said,"All my debts but one are paid,All I love have long been dead,All my hopes on Heaven are stay'd,Death to me can bring no dole;"Thus the Elleree replied;—But with ebbing of the tideAs sinks the setting sun he died;—May Christ receive his soul!
[7]"Elleree" is the name of one who has the gift of second sight.
[7]"Elleree" is the name of one who has the gift of second sight.
[8]"Bodach Glas," the Man in Grey, appears to a Highland family with the gift of second sight, presaging death.
[8]"Bodach Glas," the Man in Grey, appears to a Highland family with the gift of second sight, presaging death.
The night is dark, and yet it is not quite:Those stars are hid that other orbs may shine;Twin stars, whose rays illuminate the night,And cheer her gloom, but only deepen mine;For these fair stars are not what they do seem,But vanish'd eyes remember'd in a dream.The night is dark, and yet it brings no rest;Those eager eyes gaze on and banish sleep;Though flaming Mars has lower'd his crimson crest,And weary Venus pales into the deep,These two with tender shining mock my woeFrom out the distant heaven of long ago.The night is dark, and yet how bright they gleam!Oh! empty vision of a vanish'd light!Sweet eyes! must you for ever be a dreamDeep in my heart, and distant from my sight?For could you shine as once you shone before,The stars might hide their rays for evermore!
The night is dark, and yet it is not quite:Those stars are hid that other orbs may shine;Twin stars, whose rays illuminate the night,And cheer her gloom, but only deepen mine;For these fair stars are not what they do seem,But vanish'd eyes remember'd in a dream.
The night is dark, and yet it brings no rest;Those eager eyes gaze on and banish sleep;Though flaming Mars has lower'd his crimson crest,And weary Venus pales into the deep,These two with tender shining mock my woeFrom out the distant heaven of long ago.
The night is dark, and yet how bright they gleam!Oh! empty vision of a vanish'd light!Sweet eyes! must you for ever be a dreamDeep in my heart, and distant from my sight?For could you shine as once you shone before,The stars might hide their rays for evermore!
My love she sent a flower to meOf tender hue and fragrance rare,And with it came across the seaA letter kind as she was fair;But when her letter met mine eyes,The flower, the little flower, was dead:And ere I touched the tender prizeThe hues were dim, the fragrance fled.I sent my love a letter too,In happy hope no more to roam;I bade her bless the vessel trueWhose gallant sails should waft me home.But ere my letter reach'd her hand,My love, my little love, was dead,And when the vessel touch'd the land,Fair hope for evermore had fled.
My love she sent a flower to meOf tender hue and fragrance rare,And with it came across the seaA letter kind as she was fair;But when her letter met mine eyes,The flower, the little flower, was dead:And ere I touched the tender prizeThe hues were dim, the fragrance fled.
I sent my love a letter too,In happy hope no more to roam;I bade her bless the vessel trueWhose gallant sails should waft me home.But ere my letter reach'd her hand,My love, my little love, was dead,And when the vessel touch'd the land,Fair hope for evermore had fled.
What time I left my native land,And bade farewell to my true love,She laid a flower in my handAs azure as the sky above."Speed thee well! Speed well!"She softly whispered, "Speed well!This flower blueBe token trueOf my true heart's true love for you!"Its tender hue is bright and pure,As heav'n through summer clouds doth show,A pledge though clouds thy way obscure,It shall not be for ever so."Speed thee well! Speed well!"She softly whisper'd, "Speed well!This flower blueBe token trueOf my true heart's true love for you!"And as I toil through help and harm,And whilst on alien shores I dwell,I wear this flower as a charm,My heart repeats that tender spell:"Speed thee well! Speed well!"It softly whispers, "Speed well!This flower blueBe token trueOf my true heart's true love for you!"
What time I left my native land,And bade farewell to my true love,She laid a flower in my handAs azure as the sky above."Speed thee well! Speed well!"She softly whispered, "Speed well!This flower blueBe token trueOf my true heart's true love for you!"
Its tender hue is bright and pure,As heav'n through summer clouds doth show,A pledge though clouds thy way obscure,It shall not be for ever so."Speed thee well! Speed well!"She softly whisper'd, "Speed well!This flower blueBe token trueOf my true heart's true love for you!"
And as I toil through help and harm,And whilst on alien shores I dwell,I wear this flower as a charm,My heart repeats that tender spell:"Speed thee well! Speed well!"It softly whispers, "Speed well!This flower blueBe token trueOf my true heart's true love for you!"
How many years ago, love,Since you came courting me?Through oak-tree wood and o'er the lea,With rosy cheeks and waistcoat gay,And mostly not a word to say,—How many years ago, love,How many years ago?How many years ago, love,Since you to Father spoke?Between your lips a sprig of oak:You were not one with much to say,But Mother spoke for you that day,—How many years ago, love,How many years ago?So many years ago, love,That soon our time must comeTo leave our girl without a home;—She's like her mother, love, you've said:—At her age I had long been wed,—How many years ago, love,How many years ago?For love of long-ago, love,If John has aught to say,When he comes up to us to-day,(A likely lad, though short of tongue,)Remember, husband, we were young,—How many years ago, love,How many years ago?
How many years ago, love,Since you came courting me?Through oak-tree wood and o'er the lea,With rosy cheeks and waistcoat gay,And mostly not a word to say,—How many years ago, love,How many years ago?
How many years ago, love,Since you to Father spoke?Between your lips a sprig of oak:You were not one with much to say,But Mother spoke for you that day,—How many years ago, love,How many years ago?
So many years ago, love,That soon our time must comeTo leave our girl without a home;—She's like her mother, love, you've said:—At her age I had long been wed,—How many years ago, love,How many years ago?
For love of long-ago, love,If John has aught to say,When he comes up to us to-day,(A likely lad, though short of tongue,)Remember, husband, we were young,—How many years ago, love,How many years ago?
I'm weary waiting here,The chill east wind is sighing,The autumn tints are sere,The summer flowers are dying.The river's sullen wayWinds on through vacant meadows,The dying light of dayStrives vainly with the shadows.A footstep stirs the leaves!The faded fields seem brighter,The sunset gilds the sheaves,The low'ring clouds look lighter.The river sparkles by,Not all the flowers are falling,There's azure in the sky,And thou, my love, art calling.
I'm weary waiting here,The chill east wind is sighing,The autumn tints are sere,The summer flowers are dying.The river's sullen wayWinds on through vacant meadows,The dying light of dayStrives vainly with the shadows.
A footstep stirs the leaves!The faded fields seem brighter,The sunset gilds the sheaves,The low'ring clouds look lighter.The river sparkles by,Not all the flowers are falling,There's azure in the sky,And thou, my love, art calling.
Over wastes of blasted heather,Where the pine-trees stand together,Evermore my footsteps wander,Evermore the shadows yonderDeepen into gloom.Where there lies a silent lake,No song-bird there its thirst may slake,No sunshine now to whiteness wakeThe water-lily's bloom.Some sweet spring-time long departed,I and she, the simple-hearted,Bride and bridegroom, maid and lover,Did that gloomy lake discover,Did those lilies see.There we wandered side by side.There it was they said she died.But ah! in this I know they lied!She will return to me!Never, never since that hourHas the lake brought forth a flower.Ever harshly do the sedgesSome sad secret from its edgesWhisper to the shore.Some sad secret I forget.The lily though will blossom yet:And when it blooms I shall have metMy love for evermore.
Over wastes of blasted heather,Where the pine-trees stand together,Evermore my footsteps wander,Evermore the shadows yonderDeepen into gloom.Where there lies a silent lake,No song-bird there its thirst may slake,No sunshine now to whiteness wakeThe water-lily's bloom.
Some sweet spring-time long departed,I and she, the simple-hearted,Bride and bridegroom, maid and lover,Did that gloomy lake discover,Did those lilies see.There we wandered side by side.There it was they said she died.But ah! in this I know they lied!She will return to me!
Never, never since that hourHas the lake brought forth a flower.Ever harshly do the sedgesSome sad secret from its edgesWhisper to the shore.Some sad secret I forget.The lily though will blossom yet:And when it blooms I shall have metMy love for evermore.
From fleeting pleasures and abiding cares,From sin's seductions and from Satan's snares,From woes and wrath to penitence and prayers,Veni in pace!Sweet absolution thy sad spirit heal;To godly cares that end in endless weal,To joys man cannot think or speak or feel,Vade in pace!From this world's ways and being led by them,From floods of evil thy youth could not stem,From tents of Kedar to Jerusalem,Veni in pace!Blest be thy worldly loss to thy soul's gain,Blest be the blow that freed thee from thy chain,Blest be the tears that wash thy spirit's stain,Vade in pace!Oh, dead, and yet alive! Oh, lost and found!Salvation's walls now compass thee around,Thy weary feet are set on holy ground.Veni in pace!Death gently garner thee with all the blest,In heavenly habitations be thou guest;To light perpetual and eternal rest,Vade in pace!
From fleeting pleasures and abiding cares,From sin's seductions and from Satan's snares,From woes and wrath to penitence and prayers,Veni in pace!
Sweet absolution thy sad spirit heal;To godly cares that end in endless weal,To joys man cannot think or speak or feel,Vade in pace!
From this world's ways and being led by them,From floods of evil thy youth could not stem,From tents of Kedar to Jerusalem,Veni in pace!
Blest be thy worldly loss to thy soul's gain,Blest be the blow that freed thee from thy chain,Blest be the tears that wash thy spirit's stain,Vade in pace!
Oh, dead, and yet alive! Oh, lost and found!Salvation's walls now compass thee around,Thy weary feet are set on holy ground.Veni in pace!
Death gently garner thee with all the blest,In heavenly habitations be thou guest;To light perpetual and eternal rest,Vade in pace!
It was on such a night as this,Some long unreal years ago,When all within were wrapp'd in sleep,And all without was wrapp'd in snow,The full moon rising in the east,The old church standing like a ghost,That, shivering in the wintry mist,And breathless with the silent frost,A little lad, I ran to seek my fortune on the main;I marvel now with how much hope and with how little pain!It is of such a night as this,In all the lands where I have been,That memory too faithfullyHas painted the familiar scene.By all the shores, on every sea,In luck or loss, by night or day,My highest hope has been to seeThat home from which I ran away.For this I toil'd, to this I look'd through many a weary year,I marvel now with how much hope, and with how little fear.On such a night at last I came,But they were dead I loved of yore.Ah, Mother, then my heart felt allThe pain it should have felt before!I came away, though loth to come,I clung, and yet why should I cling?When all have gone who made it home,It is the shadow, not the thing.A homeless man, once more I seek my fortune on the main:I marvel with how little hope, and with what bitter pain.
It was on such a night as this,Some long unreal years ago,When all within were wrapp'd in sleep,And all without was wrapp'd in snow,The full moon rising in the east,The old church standing like a ghost,That, shivering in the wintry mist,And breathless with the silent frost,A little lad, I ran to seek my fortune on the main;I marvel now with how much hope and with how little pain!
It is of such a night as this,In all the lands where I have been,That memory too faithfullyHas painted the familiar scene.By all the shores, on every sea,In luck or loss, by night or day,My highest hope has been to seeThat home from which I ran away.For this I toil'd, to this I look'd through many a weary year,I marvel now with how much hope, and with how little fear.
On such a night at last I came,But they were dead I loved of yore.Ah, Mother, then my heart felt allThe pain it should have felt before!I came away, though loth to come,I clung, and yet why should I cling?When all have gone who made it home,It is the shadow, not the thing.A homeless man, once more I seek my fortune on the main:I marvel with how little hope, and with what bitter pain.
With bark and bound and frolic roundMy dog and I together run;While by our side a brook doth glide,And laugh and sparkle in the sun.We ask no more of fortune's storeThan thus at our sweet wills to roam:And drink heart's ease from every breezeThat blows about the hills of home.As, fancy free,With game and glee,We happy threeDance down the glen.And yet they say that some fine dayThis vagrant stream may serve a mill;My doggy guard a master's yard;My free heart choose another's will.How this may fare we little care,My dog and I, as still we run!Whilst by our side the brook doth glide,And laugh and sparkle in the sun.For, fancy free,With game and glee,We happy threeDance down the glen.
With bark and bound and frolic roundMy dog and I together run;While by our side a brook doth glide,And laugh and sparkle in the sun.We ask no more of fortune's storeThan thus at our sweet wills to roam:And drink heart's ease from every breezeThat blows about the hills of home.As, fancy free,With game and glee,We happy threeDance down the glen.
And yet they say that some fine dayThis vagrant stream may serve a mill;My doggy guard a master's yard;My free heart choose another's will.How this may fare we little care,My dog and I, as still we run!Whilst by our side the brook doth glide,And laugh and sparkle in the sun.For, fancy free,With game and glee,We happy threeDance down the glen.
You ask me what—since we must part—You shall bring home to me;Bring back a pure and faithful heart,As true as mine to thee.I ask not wealth nor fame,I only ask for thee,Thyself—and that dear self the same—My love, bring back to me!You talk of gems from foreign lands,Of treasure, spoil, and prize.Ah, love! I shall not search your hands,But look into your eyes.I ask not wealth nor fame,I only ask for thee,Thyself—and that dear self the same—My love, bring back to me!You speak of glory and renown,With me to share your pride,Unbroken faith is all the crownI ask for as your bride.I ask not wealth nor fame,I only ask for thee,Thyself—and that dear self the same—My love, bring back to me!You bid me with hope's eager gazeBehold fair fortune come.I only dream I see your faceBeside the hearth at home.I ask not wealth nor fame,I do but ask for thee!Thyself—and that dear self the same—May God restore to me!
You ask me what—since we must part—You shall bring home to me;Bring back a pure and faithful heart,As true as mine to thee.I ask not wealth nor fame,I only ask for thee,Thyself—and that dear self the same—My love, bring back to me!
You talk of gems from foreign lands,Of treasure, spoil, and prize.Ah, love! I shall not search your hands,But look into your eyes.I ask not wealth nor fame,I only ask for thee,Thyself—and that dear self the same—My love, bring back to me!
You speak of glory and renown,With me to share your pride,Unbroken faith is all the crownI ask for as your bride.I ask not wealth nor fame,I only ask for thee,Thyself—and that dear self the same—My love, bring back to me!
You bid me with hope's eager gazeBehold fair fortune come.I only dream I see your faceBeside the hearth at home.I ask not wealth nor fame,I do but ask for thee!Thyself—and that dear self the same—May God restore to me!