Awake !- soft dews will soon arise From daisied mead and thorny brake: Awake! awake ! To paint that living light I see, And fix the soul that sparkles there." His prayer as soon as breathed was heard ; His pallet touched by Love grew warm, And painting saw her thus transferred From lifeless flowers to woman's rm. Still, as from tint to tint he stole, The fair design shone out the more, And there was now a life, a soul, Where only colors glowed before. Then first carnation learned to speak, And lilies into life were brought ; While mantling on the maiden's cheek, Young roses kindled into thought : Then hyacinths their darkest dyes Upon the locks of beauty threw; CHORUS Awake!- within the musk-rose bower I watch, pale flower of love, for thee. Awake! awake! Awake ! — ne'er heed though listening night Steal music from thy silver voice"; Awake! awake! - BARRY CORNWALL INVOCATION TO THE ANGEL. FROM “HEAVEN AND EARTH." THOMAS MOORE, UP! QUIT THY BOWER. Up! quit thy bower ! late wears the hour, Long have the rooks cawed round the tower ; O'er flower and tree loud hums the bee, And the wild kid sports merrily. The sun is bright, the sky is clear ; Wake, lady, wake! and hasten here. Up, maiden fair ! and bind thy hair, And rouse thee in the breezy air ! The lulling stream that soothed thy dream Is dancing in the sunny beam. Waste not these hours, so fresh, so gay : Leave thy soft couch, and haste away! Up! Time will tell the morning bell Its service-sound has chiméd well ; The aged crone keeps house alone, Tho reapers to the fields are gone. Lose not these hours, so cool, so gay : Lo ! while thou sleep'st they haste away! JOANNA BAILLIE. Samiasa! Many may worship thee, that will I not; And thou of beams On Eden's streams, With love more warm than mine In which, though forbidden yet to shine, I feel was lighted at thy God's and thine. It may be hidden long : death and decay Our mother Eve bequeathed us, but my heart Defies it; though this life must pass away, Is that a cause for thee and me to part ? Thou art immortal ; so am I : I feel I feel my immortality o'ersweep All pains, all tears, all time, all fears, and peal, Like the eternal thunders of the deep, Into my ears this truth, -- "Thou liv'st forever !" me, : BYRON As if 't were fixed by magic there, Hadst thou but sung this witching strain, I could forget — forgive thee all, And never leave those eyes again.” As on his arm her head reposes, “Remember, love, the Feast of Roses !" THOMAS MOORE. “Our rocks are rough, but smiling there Th' acacia waves her yellow hair, Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less For flowering in a wilderness. “Our sands are bare, but down their slope The silvery-footed antelope As gracefully and gayly springs As o'er the marble courts of kings. “Then come, – thy Arab maid will be The loved and lone acacia-tree, The antelope, whose feet shall bless With their light sound thy loneliness. "Oh ! there are looks and tones that dart An instant sunshine through the heart, As if the soul that minute caught Some treasure it through life had sought; “As if the very lips and eyes Predestined to have all our sighs, And never be forgot again, Sparkled and spoke before as then ! “So came thy every glance and tone, When first on me they breathed and shone ; New, as if brought from other spheres, Yet welcome as if loved for years ! " Then fly with me, if thou hast known No other flame, nor falsely thrown A gem away, that thou hadst sworn Should ever in thy heart be worn. “Come, if the love thou hast for me Is pure and fresh as mine for thee, Fresh as the fountain underground, When first 't is by the lapwing found. “But if for me thou dost forsake Some other maid, and rudely break Her worshipped image from its base, To give to me the ruined place ; * Then, fare thee well ! - I'd rather make My bower upon some icy lake When thawing suns begin to shine, Than trust to love so false as thine !” There was a pathos in this lay, That even without enchantment's art Deep into Selim's burning heart ; Which, all the time of this sweet air, COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD. For the black bat, night, has flown ! I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the roses blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves, On a bed of daffodil sky, To faint in the light of the sun that she loves, To faint in its light, and to die. All night have the roses heard The flute, violin, bassoon ; To the dancers dancing in tune, And a hush with the setting moon. With whom she has heart to be gay. When will the dancers leave her alone ? She is weary of dance and play.” And half to the rising day ; The last wheel echoes away. In babble and revel and wine. For one that will never be thine ? “For ever and ever mine!” . And the soul of the rose went into my blood, And the best of all ways As the music clashed in the hall ; To lengthen our days And long by the garden lake I stood, Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear! For I heard your rivulet fall From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood, Now all the world is sleeping, love, Our wood, that is dearer than all ; But the sage, his star-watch keeping, love, And I, whose star, From the meadow your walks have left so sweet More glorious far, That whenever a March-wind sighs, Is the eye from that casement peeping, love. He sets the jewel-print of your feet Then awake ! — till rise of sun, my dear, In violets blue as your eyes, The sage's glass we'll shun, my dear, To the woody hollows in which we meet, Or, in watching the flight And the valleys of Paradise. Of bodies of light, He might happen to take thee for one, my dear! The slender acacia would not shake THOMAS MOORE. AH, SWEET KITTY NEIL ! “Ah, sweet Kitty Neil ! rise up from your wheel, The lilies and roses were all awake, Your neat little foot will be weary from spinThey sighed for the dawn and thee. ning; Come, trip down with me to the sycamore-tree ; Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls, Half the parish is there, and the dance is Come hither! the dances are done; beginning. In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls, The sun is gone down ; but the full harvest moon Queen lily and rose in one ; Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls, Shines sweetly and cool on the dew-whitened valley ; To the flowers, and be their sun. While all the air rings with the soft, loving things There has fallen a splendid tear Each little bird sings in the green shaded alley." From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coining, my dove, my dear; With a blush and a smile, Kitty rose up the while, She is coming, my life, my fate ! The red rose cries, “She is near, she is near" ; Her eye in the glass, as she bound her hair, glancing; And the white rose weeps, “She is late"; The larkspur listens, “I hear, I hear”; 'T is hard to refuse when a young lover sues, And the lily whispers, “I wait.” So she could n't but choose to - go off to the dancing. She is coming, my own, my sweet ! And now on the green the glad groups are seen, Were it ever so airy a tread, Each gay-hearted lad with the lass of his choosMy heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthly bed ; And Pat, without fail, leads out sweet Kitty Neil, My dust would hear her and beat, Somehow, when he asked, she ne'er thought Had I lain for a century dead ; of refusing. Now Felix Magee puts his pipes to his knee, motion ; With a cheer and a bound, the lads patter the THE YOUNG MAY MOON. ground, The maids move around just like swans on the The young May moon is beaming, love, The glowworm's lamp is gleaming, love, Cheeks bright as the rose, — feet light as the doe's, How sweet to rove Now coyly retiring, now boldly advancing ; Through Morna's grove, Search the world all around from the sky to the While the drowsy world is dreaming, love ! ground, Then awake !- the heavens look bright, my dear! No such sight can be found as an Irish lass 'T is never too late for delight, my dear! dancing! ing; ALFRED TENNYSON. ocean. BEDOUIN LOVE-SONG. Sweet Kate! who could view your bright eyes of deep blue, Beaming humidly through their dark lashes so mildly, Your fair-turned arm, heaving breast, rounded form, Nor feel his heart warm, and his pulses throb wildly? Poor Pat feels his heart, as he gazes, depart, Subdued by the smart of such painful yet sweet love ; The sight leaves his eye as he cries with a sigh, *Dance light, for my heart it lies under your feet, love !” DENIS FLORENCE MACCARTHY. From the Desert I come to theè, On a stallion shod with fire; And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire. Under thy window I stand, And the midnight hears my cry: Till the sun grows cold, Book unfold! O NANCY, WILT THOU GO WITH ME? Look from thy window, and see My passion and my pain ! I lie on the sands below, And I faint in thy disdain. Let the night-winds touch thy brow With the heat of my burning sigh, Till the sun grows cold, Book unfold ! O NANCY, wilt thou go with me, Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town? Can silent glens have charms for thee, The lonely cot and russet gown ? No longer drest in silken sheen, No longer decked with jewels rare, Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? O Nancy ! when thou 'rt far away, Wilt thou not cast a wish behind ? Say, canst thou face the parching ray, Nor shrink before the wintry wind ? 0, can that soft and gentle mien Extremes of hardship learn to bear, Nor sad regret each courtly scene Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? My steps are nightly driven, By the fever in my breast, The word that shall give me rest. And open thy chamber door, Till the sun grows cold, BAYARD TAYLOR. COME, REST IN THIS BOSOM. O Nancy ! canst thou love so true, Through perils keen with me to go, Or when thy swain mishap shall rue, To share with him the pang of woe ? Say, should disease or pain befall, Wilt thou assume the nurse's care, Nor wistful those gay scenes recall Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? And when at last thy love shall die, Wilt thou receive his parting breath ? Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh, And cheer with smiles the bed of death? And wilt thou o'er his breathless clay, Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear, Nor then regret those scenes so gay Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? THOMAS PERCY, D.D. Oh! what was love made for, if 't is not the same Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame? I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart, I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art. IV. Thou hast called me thy Angel in moments of bliss, And thy Angel I'll be, mid the horrors of Come when you 're looked for, or come without So come in the evening, or come in the morning; this, warning; Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to Kisses and welcome you 'll find here before you, pursue, And the oftener you come here the more I 'll adore And shield thee, and save thee, or perish there you ! Light is my heart since the day we were plighted ; And the linnets are singing, “ True lovers don't sever!” THOMAS MOORE, THOMAS DAVIS. I. CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES. Come in the evening, or come in the morning; warning; CHORUS. you ! Ca' the yowes to the knowes, My bonnie dearie. Lightis my heart since the day we were plighted; ever, sever!" Hark the mavis' evening sang Ca’ the, &c. II. We'll gae down by Clauden side, Ca' the, &c. I'll pull you sweet flowers, to wear if you choose them! Or; after you've kissed them, they 'll lie on my bosom ; I'll fetch from the mountain its breeze to inspire you ; I'll fetch from my fancy a tale that won't tire you. Oh! your step's like the rain to the summer vexed farmer, Or sabre and shield to a knight without armor ; I'll sing you sweet songs till the stars rise above me, Then, wandering, I'll wish you in silence to love me. Yonder Cluden's silent towers, Ca' the, &c. III. Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear: Ca' the, &c. We'll look through the trees at the cliff and the eyrie ; We'll tread round the rath on the track of the fairy ; We'll look on the stars, and we 'll list to the river, 'Till you ask of your darling what gift you can give her. Oh! she'll whisper you, — “Love, as un changeably beaming, And trust, when in secret, most tunefully streaming ; Fair and lovely as thou art, - but canna part, Ca' the, &c. While waters wimple to the sea ; Cathe, &c. ROBERT BURNS |
