And with hope, like the Bee,
Living always on flowers,
Our life should resemble a long day of light,
And our death come on holy and calm as the night.
FAREWELL!-BUT WHENEVER YOU WELCOME THE HOUR.
FAREWELL!-but whenever you welcome the hour
That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower,
Then think of the friend who once welcomed it too,
And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you.
His griefs may return, not a hope may remain
Of the few that have brightened his pathway of pain,
But he ne'er will forget the short vision that threw
Its enchantment around him, while lingering with you.
And still on that evening, when pleasure fills up
To the highest top-sparkle each heart and each cup,
Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright,
My soul, happy friends, shall be with you that night;
Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your wiles,
And return to me beaming all o'er with your smiles-
Too blest if it tells me that, 'mid the gay cheer,
Some kind voice had murmured, "I wish he were here!"
Let Fate do her worst; there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy;
Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care,
And bring back the features that joy used to wear.
Long, long be my heart with such memories filled !
Like the vase, in which roses have once been distilled-
You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
OH! DOUBT ME NOT.
OH! doubt me not-the season
Is o'er when Folly made me rove,
And now the vestal, Reason,
Shall watch the fire awaked by Love.
Although this heart was early blown,
And fairest hands disturbed the tree,
They only shook some blossoms down,
Its fruit has all been kept for thee.
Then doubt me not-the season
Is o'er when Folly made me rove,
And now the vestal, Reason,
Shall watch the fire awaked by Love.
And though my lute no longer
May sing of Passion's ardent spell,
Yet, trust me, all the stronger
I feel the bliss I do not tell.
The bee through many a garden roves,
And hums his lay of courtship o'er,
But, when he finds the flower he loves,
He settles there, and hums no more.
Then doubt me not--the season
Is o'er when Folly kept me free,
And now the vestal, Reason,
Shall guard the flame awaked by thee
YOU REMEMBER ELLEN.*
You remember Ellen, our hamlet's pride,
How meekly she blessed her humble lot,
When the stranger, William, had made her his bride,
And love was the light of their lowly cot.
Together they toiled through winds and rains,
Till William at length in sadness said,
"We must seek our fortune on other plains ;"--
Then, sighing, she left her lowly shed.
They roamed a long and a weary way,
Nor much was the maiden's heart at cut,
When now, at the close of one stormy day,
They see a proud castle among the trees.
"To-night," said the youth, "we'll shelter there;
The wind blows cold, and the hour is late:"
So he blew the horn with a chieftain's air,
And the porter bowed as they passed the gate.
"Now, welcome, lady," exclaimed the youth,
"This castle is thine, and these dark woods all !" She believed him crazed, but his words were truth, For Ellen is Lady of Rosna Hall!
And dearly the Lord of Rosna loves
What William the stranger wooed and wed;
And the light of bliss, in these lordly groves,
Shines pure as it did in the lowly shed,
I'D MOURN THE HOPES.
I'D mourn the hopes that leave me,
If thy smiles had left me too;
I'd weep when friends deceive me,
If thou wert, like them, untrue.
This ballad was suggested by a well-known and interesting story, told of a certain noble family in England.
But while I've thee before me,
With heart so warm and eyes so bright,
No clouds can linger o'er me;
That smile turns them all to light.
"Tis not in fate to harm me,
While fate leaves thy love to me;
"Tis not in joy to charm me,
Unless joy be shared with thee.
One minute's dream about thee
Were worth a long, an endless year
Of waking bliss without thee,
My own love, my only dear!
And though the hope be gone, love,
That long sparkled o'er our way,
Oh! we shall journey on, love,
More safely without its ray.
Far better lights shall win me
Along the path I've yet to roam—
The mind that burns within me,
And pure smiles from thee at home.
Thus, when the lamp that lighted
The traveller at first goes out,
He feels awhile benighted,
And looks around in fear and doubt.
But soon, the prospect clearing,
By cloudless starlight on he treads,
And thinks no lamp so cheering
As that light which Heaven sheds.
COME O'ER THE SEA.
COME o'er the sea,
Maiden, with me,
Mine through sunshine, storm and snows;
Seasons may roll,
But the true soul
Burns the same, where'er it goes.
Let fate frown on, so we love and part not
'Tis life where thou art, 'tis death where thou art not. Then come o'er the sea, Maiden, with me,
Come wherever the wild wind blows:
Seasons may roll,
But the true soul
Burrs the same, where'er it goes.
Was not the sea
Made for the Free,
Land for courts and chains alone?
Here we are slaves,
But, on the waves,
Love and liberty's all our own.
No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us,
All earth forgot, and all heaven around us—
Then come o'er the sea,
Maiden, with me,
Mine through sunshine, storm, and snows;
Seasons may roll,
Burns the same, where'er it goes.)
HAS SORROW THY YOUNG DAYS SHADED.
HAS sorrow thy young days shaded,
As clouds o'er the morning fleet?
Too fast have those young days faded,
That, even in sorrow, were sweet?
Does Time with his cold wing wither
Each feeling that once was dear?-
Then, child of misfortune, come hither,
I'll weep with thee, tear for tear.
Has love to that soul, so tender,
Been like our Lagenian mine,"
Where sparkles of golden splendour
All over the surface shine?
But, if in pursuit we go deepe
Allured by the gleam that shone,
Ah! false as the dream of the sleeper,
Like Love, the bright ore is gone.
Has Hope, like the bird in the story,1
That flitted from tree to tree
With the talisman's glittering glory-
Has Hope been that bird to thee?
On branch after branch alighting,
The gem did she still display,
And, when nearest and most inviting,
Then waft the fair gem away?
If thus the young hours have fleeted,
When sorrow itself looked bright;
If thus the fair hope hath cheated,
That led thee along so light;
Our Wicklow gold-mines, to which this verse alludes, deserve, I fear, the character here given of them.
"The bird, having got its prize, settled not far off, with the talisman in his mouth. The prince drew near it, hoping it would drop it; but, as he approached, the bird took wing, and settled again," &c.-Arabian Knights, Story of Kummir al Zummaun and the Princess of China
If thus the cold world now wither
Each feeling that once was dear :-
Come, child of misfortune, come hither,
I'll weep with thee, tear for tear.
NO, NOT MORE WELCOME.
No, not more welcome the fairy numbers
Of music fall on the sleeper's ear,
When, half awakening from fearful slumbers,
He thinks the full choir of heaven is near-
Than came that voice, when, all forsaken,
This heart long had sleeping lain,
Nor thought its cold pulse would ever waken
To such benign, blessed sounds again.
Sweet voice of comfort! 'twas like the stealing Of summer wind through some wreathed shellEach secret winding, each inmost feeling
Of all my soul echoed to its spell!'Twas whispered balm-'twas sunshine spoken!I'd live years of grief and pain
To have my long sleep of sorrow broken
By such benign, blessed sounds again.
WHEN FIRST I MET THEE..
WHEN first I met thee, warm and young,
There shone such truth about thee,
And on thy lip such promise hung,
I did not dare to doubt thee.
I saw thee change, yet still relied,
Still clung with hope the fonder,
And thought, though false to all beside,
From me thou couldst not wander.
But go, deceiver! go,-
The heart, whose hopes could make it
Trust one so false, so low,
Deserves that thou shouldst break it.
When every tongue thy follies named,
I fled the unwelcome story;
Or found, in even the faults they blamed,
Some gleams of future glory.
I still was true, when nearer friends
Conspired to wrong, to slight thee;
The heart, that now thy falsehood rends,
Would then have bled to right thee.
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