When Fame would call me to her heights,
She speaks by thee;
And dim would shine her proudest lights,
Unshar'd by thee, unshar'd by thee.
Whene'er I seek the Muse's shrine,
Where Bards have hung their wreaths divine
And wish those wreaths of glory mine,
'Tis all for thee, for only thee.
The young rose I give thee, so dewy and bright,
Was the dow'ret most dear to the sweet bird of night,
Who oft, by the moon, o'er her blushes hath lung,
And thrill'd every leaf with the wild lay he sung.
Oh, take thou this young rose, and let her life be Prolongd' by the breath she will borrow from thee; For, while o'er her bosom thy soft notes shall thrill, She'll think the sweet night-bird is courting her still.
I GIVE thee all-I can no more-
Though poor the off'ring be;
My heart and lute are all the store
That I can bring to thee.
A lute whose gentle song reveals
The soul of love full well;
And, better far, a heart that feels
Much more than lute could tell.
Though love and song may fail, alas!
To keep life's clouds away,
At least 'twill make them lighter pass
Or gild them if they stay.
And ev'n if Care, at moments, flings
A discord o'er life's happy strain,
Let love but gently touch the strings,
"Twill all be sweet again!
LOVE thee?-so well, so tenderly
Thou'rt lov'd, ador'd by me,
Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty,
Were worthless without thee.
Though brimm'd with blessings, pure and rare,
Life's cup before me lay,
Unless thy love were mingled there,
I'd spurn the draught away.
Love thee?-so well, so tenderly
Thou'rt lov'd, ador'd by me,
Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty,
Are worthless without thee.
Without thy smile, the monarch's lot
To me were dark and lone,
While, with it, ev'n the humblest cot
Were brighter than his throne.
Those worlds, for which the conqueror sighs,
For me would have no charms;
My only world thy gentle eyes—
My throne thy circling arms!
Oh, yes, so well, so tenderly
Thou'rt lov'd, ador'd by me,
Whole realms of light and liberty
Were worthless without thee.
broken heart, farewell!
The pang is o'er
The parting pang is o'er;
Thou now wilt bleed no more,
Poor broken heart, farewell!
No rest for thee but dying
Like waves, whose strife is past,
On death's cold shore thus lying,
Thou sleep'st in peace at last-
Poor broken heart, farewell!
SHINE out, Stars! let Heav'n assemble
Round us ev'ry festal ray,
Lights that move not, lights that tremble,
All to grace this Eve of May.
Let the flow'r-beds all lie waking,
And the odours shut up there,
From their downy prisons breaking,
Fly abroad, through sea and air.
And would Love, too, bring his sweetness,
With our other joys to weave,
Oh what glory, what completeness,
Then would crown this bright May Eve!
Shine out, Stars! let night assemble
Round us ev'ry festal ray,
Lights that move not, lights that tremble,
To adorn this Eve of May.
LET'S TAKE THIS WORLD AS SOME WIDE SCENE.
LET'S take this world as some wide scene,
Through which, in frail, but buoyant boat,
With skies now dark and now serene,
Together thou and I must float;
Beholding oft, on either shore,
Bright spots where we should love to stay;
But Time plies swift his flying oar,
And away we speed, away, away.
Should chilling winds and rains come on,
We'll raise our awning 'gainst the show'r;
Sit closer till the storm is gone,
And, smiling, wait a sunnier hour.
And if that sunnier hour should shine,
We'll know its brightness cannot stay,
But happy, while 'tis thine and mine,
Complain not when it fades away.
So shall we reach at last that Fall
Down which life's currents all must go,---
The dark, the brilliant, destin'd all
To sink into the void below.
Nor ev'n that hour shall want its charms,
If, side by side, still fond we keep,
And calmly, in each other's arms
Together link'd, go down the steep.
WHEN Love, who rul'd as Admiral o'er
His rosy mother's isles of light,
Was cruising off the Paphian shore,
A sail at sunset hove in sight.
'A chase, a chase! my Cupids all,"
Said Love, the little Admiral.
Aloft the winged sailors sprung,
And, swarming up the mast like bees,
The snow-white sails expanding flung,
Like broad magnolias, to the breeze.
"Yo ho, yo ho, my Cupids all!"
Said Love, the little Admiral.
The chase was o'er the bark was caught,
The winged crew her freight explor'd;
And found 'twas just as Love had thought,
For all was contraband aboard.
"A prize, a prize, my Cupids all!"
Said Love, the little Admiral.
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