Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

THE MAD MAIDEN.

ONE
NE morning very early, one morning in the spring,
I heard a maid in Bedlam who mournfully did sing,
Her chains she rattled on her hands while sweetly
thus sung she,

I love my love, because I know my love loves me.

Oh cruel were his parents who sent my love to sea, And cruel cruel was the ship that bore my love from me, [ruin'd me, Yet I love his parents since they're his, altho' they've And I love my love, because I know my love loves me.

O should it please the pitying pow'rs to call me to the sky, [to fly; I'd claim a guardian angel's charge around my love To guard him from all dangers how happy should

I be !

For I love my love, because I know my love loves me.

I'll make a strawy garland, I'll make it wondrous fine,

With roses, lilies, daisies, I'll mix the eglantine; And I'll present it to my love when he returns from

sea,

For I love my love, because I know my love loves me.

Oh if I were a little bird to build upon his breast, Or if I were a nightingale to sing my love to rest! To gaze upon his lovely eyes all my reward should be;

For I love my love, because I know my

love loves me.

Oh if I were an eagle, to soar into the sky!

I'd gaze around with piercing eyes where I my love might spy;

But ah! unhappy maiden, that love you ne'er shall

see,

Yet I love my love, because I know my love loves me.

THE

HE sun was sunk beneath the hill

The western clouds were lined with gold,
Clear was the sky, the wind was still,
The flocks were penn'd within the fold;
When in the silence of the grove
Poor Damon thus despair'd of love.

Who seeks to pluck the fragrant rose
From the hard rock or oozy beach,
Who from each weed that barren grows,
Expects the grape or downy peach,
With equal faith may hope to find
The truth of love in womankind.

No herds have I, no fleecy care,

No fields that wave with golden grain, No pastures green, or gardens fair,

A woman's venal heart to gain ; Then all in vain my sighs must prove, Whose whole estate, alas! is love.

How wretched is the faithful youth,

Since women's hearts are bought and sold: They ask no vows of sacred truth,

Whene'er they sigh, they sigh for gold. Gold can the frowns of scorn remove? But I am scorn'd-who have but love.

To buy the gems of India's coast

What wealth, what riches would suffice? Yet India's shore should never boast The lustre of thy rival eyes;

For there the world too cheap must prove; Can I then buy?-who have but love.

Then, Mary, since nor gems nor ore
Can with thy brighter self compare,
Be just, as fair, and value more

Than gems or ore, a heart sincere ;
Let treasure meaner beauties move;
Who pays thy worth, must pay in love.

WHAT Deauties does Flora disclose?
How sweet are her smiles upon Tweed?
But Mary's still sweeter than those
Both nature and fancy exceed.
No daisy nor sweet blushing rose,

Nor all the gay flowers of the field,
Nor Tweed gliding gently thro' those,
Such beauty and pleasure can yield.

The warblers are heard in each grove,
The linnet, the lark and the thrush;
The blackbird and sweet cooing dove
With music enchant every bush.
Come let us go forth to the mead,

Let us see how the primroses spring; We'll lodge in some village on Tweed, And love while the feather'd folks sing.

How does my love pass the long day?
Does Mary not tend a few sheep?
Do they never carelessly stray,

While happily she lies asleep?

Tweed's murmurs should lull her to rest,
Kind nature indulging my bliss,

To relieve the soft pains of my breast
I'd steal an ambrosial kiss.

'Tis she does the virgins excel,

No beauty with her can compare, Love's graces all round her do dwell,

She's fairest where thousands are fair. Say, charmer, where do thy flocks stray? Oh! tell me at noon where they feed: Shall I seek them on sweet winding Tay, Or the pleasanter banks of the Tweed.

EDWIN AND EMMA.

[MALLET.]

FAR in the windings of a vale,

Fast by a sheltering wood,
The safe retreat of health and peace,
An humble cottage stood.

There beauteous Emma flourish'd fair

Beneath a mother's eye,

Whose only wish on earth was now
To see her blest, and die.

The softest blush that nature spreads
Gave colour to her cheek;

Such orient colour smiles thro' heav'n

When May's sweet mornings break.

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »