BALLADS, SONGS, ETC. TO-DAY, DEAREST! IS OURS. TO-DAY, dearest! is ours; Why should Love carelessly lose it? This life shines or lowers Just as we, weak mortals, use it. 'Tis time enough, when its flow'rs decay, To think of the thorns of Sorrow; And Joy, if left on the stem to-day, May wither before to-morrow. Then why, dearest! so long Let the sweet moments fly over? Though now, blooming and young, Thou hast me devoutly thy lover: Yet Time from both, in his silent lapse, Some treasure may steal or borrow; Thy charms may be less in bloom, perhaps Or I less in love to-morrow. WHEN ON THE LIP THE SIGH DELAYS. WHEN on the lip the sigh delays, As if 'twould linger there for ever; When eyes would give the world to gaze, Yet still look down, and venture never; When, though with fairest nymphs we rove, There's one we dream of more than any. If all this is not real love, "Tis something wond'rous like it, Fanny! To think and ponder, when apart, The only moon, where stars are many- I prithee say what is, my Fanny! When Hope foretells the brightest, best, Though Prudence to the eastward beckons; When all turns round, below, above, HERE, TAKE MY HEART. HERE, take my heart - 'twill be safe in thy keeping, While I go wand'ring o'er land and o'er sea; Smiling or sorrowing, waking or sleeping, What need I care, so my heart is with thee? If, in the race we are destin'd to run, love, They who have light hearts the happiest be, Then, happier still must be they who have none, love, And that will be my case when mine is with thee. It matters not where I may now be a rover, I care not how many bright eyes I may see; Should Venus herself come and ask me to love her, I'd tell her I couldn't-my heart is with thee. And there let it lie, growing fonder and fonderFor, even should Fortune turn truant to me, Why, let her go—I've a treasure beyond her, As long as my heart's out at int'rest with thee! OH, CALL IT BY SOME BETTER NAME. Он, call it by some better name, For Friendship sounds too cold, While Love is now a worldly flame, Whose shrine must be of gold; And Passion, like the sun at noon, That burns o'er all he sees, Awhile as warm, will set as soonThen, call it none of these. Imagine something purer far, Than Friendship, Love, or Passion are, COME, May, with all thy flowers, From Eastern Isles she's winging Through wat 'ry wilds her way, And on her cheek is bringing The bright sun's orient ray: Oh, come and court her hither, Ye breezes mild and warm One winter's gale would wither So soft, so pure a form. The fields where she was straying Are blest with endless light, With zephyrs always playing Through gardens always bright. THE PRETTY ROSE TREE. BEING weary of love, I flew to the grove, And chose me a tree of the fairest; Saying, "Pretty Rose-tree, "Thou my mistress shalt be, And I'll worship each bud thou bearest "For the hearts of this world are hollow, "And fickle the smiles we follow ; 66 "And 'tis sweet, when all "To have a pure love to fly to: "So, my pretty Rose-tree, "Thou my mistress shalt be, "And the only one now I shall sigh to." When the beautiful hue Of thy cheek through the dew Of morning is bashfully peeping, "Sweet tears," I shall say (As I brush them away), "At least there's no art in this weeping." Although thou should'st die to-morrow, "Twill not be from pain or sorrow; And the thorns of thy stem Are not like them With which men wound each other: So my pretty Rose-tree, Thou my mistress shalt be, And I'll ne'er again sigh to another. SHINE OUT, STARS! SHINE out, Stars! let Heav'n assemble Round us ev'ry festal ray, Lights that move not, lights that tremble, And the odours shut up there, And would Love, too, bring his sweetness, With our other joys to weave, Oh what glory, what completeness, Then would crown this bright May Eve! Shine out, Stars! let night assemble Round us every festal ray, Lights that move not, lights that tremble, To adorn this Eve of May. Tell her, oh, tell her, the tree that, in going, So while away from that arbour forsaken, NIGHTS OF MUSIC. NIGHTS of music, nights of loving, All my spirit felt to thee; Nights of song, and nights of splendour, From my fading mem'ry fly, OUR FIRST YOUNG LOVE. OUR first young love resembles Our summer sun may squander Our autumn beam Bring all the light it may, "Twill ne'er shed lustre o'er us Like that first youthful ray. |