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Awake!-- soft dews will soon arise
From daisied mead and thorny brake :
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 form. 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 ; And violets transformed to eyes,
Inshrined a soul within their blue.
Awake!- within the musk-rose bower
I watch, pale flower of love, for thee. Ah, come ! and show the starry hour What wealth of love thou hid'st from me!
Show all thy love, for Love's sweet sake! Awake ! — ne'er heed though listening night
Steal music from thy silver voice ;
Awake! awake ! -
• BARRY CORNWALL
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, The reapers to the fields are gone. Lose not these hours, so cool, so gay : Lo! while thou sleep'st they haste away!
Many may worship thee, that will I not;
And thou of beams
On Eden's streams,
With love more warm than mine
In me, 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
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 !"
FOR LOVE'S SWEET SAKE.
FLY TO THE DESERT, FLY WITH ME.
SONG OF NOURMAHAL IN “THE LIGHT OF THE HAREM."
AWAKE ! — the starry midnight hour
Hangs charmed, and pauseth in its flight ;
Awake! awake !
“Fly to the desert, fly with me,
“Our rocks are rough, but smiling there
“Oh ! there are looks and tones that dart
“Then fly with me, if thou hast known
As if 't were fixed by magie there',
Hadst thou but sung this witching strai.., 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 !"
COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD. Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, night, has flown ! Come into the garden, Maud,
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 datfodil 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. 0
young lord-lover, what sighs are those
For one that will never be thine ? But mine, but inine," so I sware to the rose,
“For ever and ever mine!”
There was a pathos in this lay,
That even without enchantment's art Would instantly have found its way
Deep into Selim's burning heart ; But breathing, as it did, a tone To earthly lutes and lips unknown ; With every chord fresh from the touch Of music's spirit, 't was too much ! Starting, he dashed away the cup,
Which, all the time of this sweet air, His hand had held, untasted, up,
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 meatlow 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
One long milk-bloom on the tree ;
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.
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 ;
Shines sweetly and cool on the dew-whitened Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls,
valley ; To the flowers, and be their sun.
While all the air rings with the soft, loving things
Each little bird sings in the green There has fallen a splendid tear
shaded alley.” From the passion-flower at the gate.
With a blush and a smile, Kitty rose up the She is coming, my dove, my dear;
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, And the white rose weeps, “She is late”;
'T is hard to refuse when a young lover sues, The larkspur listens, “ I hear, I hear"
So she could n't but choose to — go off to the And the lily whispers, “I wait.”
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,
ing ; Were it earth in an earthly bed ;
And Pat, without fail, leads outsweet Kitty Neil, – My dust would hear her and beat,
Somehow, when he asked, she ne'er thought Had I lain for a century dead ;
Now Felix Magee puts his pipes to his knee,
With a cheer and a bound, the lads patter the THE YOUNG MAY MOON.
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!