WE PLIGHTED VOWS TOGETHER.
WE PLIGHTED VOWS TOGETHER.
WE plighted vows together,
When all Nature 'round looked gay,
In the bright and genial weather,
Of the merry month of May;
When the buds had opened into flower,
The cuckoo taken wing,
To herald, with her voice of power,
To other lands the Spring!
We plighted vows together,
When earth wore her richest green,
On the birch-tree's silvery feather
When a deeper shade was seen;
The laburnum, spendthrift of our bower,
Its gold had dropped around;
And the hawthorn blossom's snowy shower
Was whitening all the ground!
When we plighted vows together,
May was melting into June,
And the smiles of that bright weather
Taught the brook a lower tune;
Whose music, though it soothed mine ear,
And bade my soul rejoice,
Was not so silver-sweet and clear
As the heart-tones of thy voice!
When we plighted vows together,
Scarce a sound beside was heard,
Through the far and cloudless ether,
Save the carol of a bird;
Or the honey-bee's glad humming,
As she bore her sweets away;
For she knew 'twas summer coming,
And like all the world was gay!
When we plighted vows together,
No sad future met our ken,
For we thought that sunny weather
Would always smile as then;
And, that if May gave way to June,
Those laughing skies would last :
Alas! how darkly, and how soon,
Our heaven was overcast!
Since we plighted vows together,
In the merry month of May,
Oh, how stormy wild the weather
That has crossed our onward way!
Spring, Summer, Autumn, all are gone,
With their chequered gloom and glow;
Yet, far off the goal in fancy won
So many years ago!
The faith we pledged together
Has known nor chill nor change,
And wedlock's silken tether
Has brought no wish to range; For our hearts are warm as when of old, Love's trysting bower within,
THE SLEEPING CUPID OF GUIDO.
Our guileless passion to unfold,
We never deemed a sin!
Since we trod life's path together,
What wild changes have we known;
Hopes, that blossomed but to wither,
Joys, unheeded, all, till flown!
But can Winter freeze Love's genial spring,
In hearts like ours that flows?
No; let him come, so he but bring
His wisdom with his snows!
THE SLEEPING CUPID OF GUIDO.
A SKETCH FROM THE WELL-KNOWN PICTURE IN THE GALLERY OF
'TIS summer's softest eve; the winds are laid,
The jarring sounds of day-life are at rest,
And all is calm and soothing; not a shade
Mars the blue beauty of the skies: the west,
Gathering its hues of splendour from the crest
Of yonder setting sun, is changing fast
From sapphire to bright gold; old ocean's breast
Is one broad plain without a cloud o'ercast;
'Tis day's divinest hour, its loveliest, and its last.
Tired of his sport, the wreck of human hearts,
There on his mother's couch in slumber bound,
The God of Love reclines;-his idle darts,
Those ministers of woe, lie scattered 'round:
But that he guards, amid his dreams profound,
With so much jealous care, his unstrung bow,
How might we now his vaunted strength confound;
From his own quiver pay the debt we owe,
And, with one keen, bright shaft, pierce our unconscious foe!
But who would wound a breast so passing fair!
Look! in immortal beauty where he lies:
His flushed cheek pillowed on his hand; his hair
Clustering, like sun-touched clouds in summer skies,
Around his glorious brow ;-his twice-sealed eyes
With silken-fringed lids, like flowers that close
Their dewy cups at eve;-and lips whose dyes
Rival the crimson of the damask rose,
Wreathed with a thousand charms, all sweetness and repose.
Hush! for a footfall may disturb his sleep;
Hush even your breathing, for a breath may break
His visioned trance! But no, 'tis deep, most deep;
The last low sigh of evening fans his cheek,
And stirs his golden curls; the last bright streak
Of parting day is fading from the west;
Dim clouds are gathering round yon mountain's peak,
Yet still he sleeps; and his soft-heaving breast,
Bright wings, brow, lips, and eyes, are redolent of rest.
Love, O young Love, how beautiful thou art!
The brightest dream that ever poet feigned
THE FISHERMAN'S HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. 77
May scarce compare with thee! What though thy dart
The blood of many a gentle breast hath stained;
What though thy godlike powers thou hast profaned,
And proved to some an evil deity;
Yet, in thy softer moods, hast thou sustained
Full many a sinking heart, and thoughts of thee Have often stilled the waves of this life's stormy sea!
Thou art, indeed, omnipotent-divine!
And the wide world is vocal with thy name:
Princes and peasants bow before thy shrine:
Whilst gentle Woman, in all lands the same,
For good or evil, oftenest swells thy fame!
Noble and serf, the despot and the slave,
(For even the slave, if Love his homage claim, May wear a double chain), thy shafts must brave, And own thy mighty power to ruin or to save!
THE FISHERMAN'S HYMN TO THE VIRGIN.
WHEN the lightnings flash on high,
And deep thunders rend the sky;
When the frantic hurricane
Makes all human efforts vain;
When the mighty ship is driven,
Tempest-tossed, from earth to heaven,
And, reeling then beneath the blow,
Dives deep to ocean-caves below;
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