Imagens da página
PDF
ePub

XXXIV.

I SAW THY FORM IN YOUTHFUL PRIME.

AIR-Domhnall,

I saw thy form in youthful prime,
Nor thought that pale decay
Would steal before the steps of Time,
And waste its bloom away, Mary!

Yet still thy features wore that light
Which fleets not with the breath;
And life ne'er look'd more purely bright
Than in thy smile of death, Mary!

As streams that run o'er golden mines,
With modest murmurs glide,

Nor seem to know the wealth that shines

Within their gentle tide, Mary!

So, veil'd beneath a simple guise,
Thy radiant genius shone,

And that which charmed all other eyes,
Seem'd worthless in thy own, Mary!

If souls could always dwell above,

Thou ne'er hadst left thy sphere;
Or, could we keep the souls we love, ·
We ne'er had lost thee here, Mary!
Tho' many a gifted mind we meet,
Tho' fairest forms we see,

To live with them is far less sweet
Than to remember thee, Mary!

XXXV.

PROVE FALSE TO THEE.

AIR-I saw thy form.

Prove false to thee, my love!-ah! no,

It never shall be said

A heart, so spotless, pure as thine,

Was e'er by me betray'd, Mary.

One richer choose than thee, dear maid!--No, ne'er at splendor's shrine,

For wealth of worlds would I forego

The right to call thee mine, Mary.

Nor e'er shall beauty, save thine own,

A moment o'er me sway,

For thou, with every earthly charm,

Hast those will ne'er decay, Mary.

Then from thy breast chase every fear,
For thou art all to me;

And nought, and less than nought, this world
Would seem, if wanting thee, Mary.

XXXVI.

THE SUMMER GLOAMIN

AIR-Alexander Donn's Strathspey.

The midges dance aboon the burn,
The dew begins to fa',

The pairtricks, down the rushy howm,

Set up their e'ening ca';

Now loud and clear the blackbird's sang

Rings through the briery shaw,

While, fleeting gay, the swallows play

Around the castle wa'.

*This song, though not generally known, our readers will be gratified to learn, is the production of the late R. Tannahill.

Beneath the gowden gloaming sky
The mavis mends his lay,

The redbreast pours its sweetest strains,
To charm the lingering day;
While weary yeldrins seem to wail
Their little nestlings torn,

The merry wren, frae den to den,
Gaes jinking through the thorn.

The roses fauld their silken leaves,
The foxglove shuts its bell,
The honey-suckle and the birk,
Spread fragrance through the dell.
Let others crowd the giddy court
Of mirth and revelry,

The simple joys that nature yields
Are dearer far to me.

XXXVII.

O SLEEP NOT, MOSCA.

A Lapland Song.

O sleep not, Mosca, but wait for thy love, Tho' the night be cold and drear,

I fear not the blast, or the mountain steep, But speed with my swift Rein-deer.

While cheer'd, my love, by those bright eyes of thine,
And warm'd with thy bosom's glow,

I heed not tho' far and dreary the way,
But swift with my Rein-deer go.

O hide not, pale moon, thy beams of the night,

O hide not thy light from me;

My love she has sigh'd, and look'd for thy smile,

And will bless the night and thee.

My Mosca I see on yon hill of snow,

O speed, O speed, my Rein-deer;

How canst thou linger, and not speed thy flight,
When my Mosca's voice I hear.

XXXVIII.

FAIR DREAM OF MY SLUMBER.

Fair dream of my slumber, sad thoughts of my waking,
Sweet-why should the world e'er dissever us more?
No home can I find but with her I'm forsaking,
Even life wants the charm that endear'd it before.

« AnteriorContinuar »