But when it came to know me well, To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine,— Those frightful rocks-that treacherous sea- Where'er thou go'st, beloved stranger! Than have thee near me, and in danger!' WHEN HE, WHO ADORES THEE. When he, who adores thee, has left but the name Of his fault and his sorrows behind, Oh! say wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn, For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them, With thee were the dreams of my carliest love; In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above, Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live The days of thy glory to see; But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give Is the pride of thus dying for thee. BELIEVE ME, IF ALL THOSE ENDEARING YOUNG CHARMS. Believe me, if all those endearing young charms, Were to change by to-morrow, and flect in my arms, Thou wouldst still be ador'd, as this moment thou art, And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart It is not while beauty and youth are thine own, That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known, As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets, BY THAT LAKE, WHOSE GLOOMY SHORE1 By that Lake, whose gloomy shore Where the cliff hangs high and steep, 'Twas from Kathleen's eyes he flew, Eyes of most unholy blue! She had lov'd him well and long, Wish'd him hers, nor thought it wrong. This ballad is founded upon one of the many stories related of St. Kevin, whose bed in the rock is to be seen at Glendalough, a most gloomy and romantic spot in the county of Wicklow. Wheresoe'er the Saint would fly, On the bold cliff's bosom cast, Fearless she had tracked his feet Glendalough, thy gloomy wave LESBIA HATH A BEAMING EYE. Lesbia hath a beaming eye, But no one knows for whom it beameth; Right and left its arrows fly, But what they aim at no one dreameth Sweeter 'tis to gaze upon My Nora's lid that seldom rises; In many eyes, But Love in yours, my Nora Creina. Lesbia wears a robe of gold, But all so close the nymph hath laced it, Not a charm of beauty's mould Presumes to stay where nature placed it. Oh! my Nora's gown for me, That floats as wild as mountain breezes, Leaving every beauty free To sink or swell as Heaven pleases. Is loveliness The dress you wear, my Nora Creina. Lesbia hath a wit refin'd, But, when its points are gleaming round us, Who can tell if they 're design'd To dazzle merely, or to wound us? In safer slumber Love reposes- Hath no such light, As warms your eyes, my Nora Creina AT THE MID HOUR OF NIGHT. At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly Then I sing the wild song 'twas once such pleasure to hear! THE YOUNG MAY MOON. The young May moon is beaming, love, Through Morna's grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! To lengthen our days, Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear! Now all the world is sleeping, love, But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love, And I, whose star, More glorious far, Is the eye from that casement peeping, love. Then awake!-till rise of sun, my dear, The Sage's glass we'll shun, my dear, Or, in watching the flight Of bodies of light, He might happen to take thee for one, my dear. |