HOLY BE THE PILGRIM'S SLEEP. HOLY be the Pilgrim's sleep, From the dreams of terror free; And may all, who wake to weep, Rest to-night as sweet as he! Hark! hark! did I hear a vesper swell? No, no-it is my loved Pilgrim's prayer: No, no-'twas but the convent bell, Holy be the Pilgrim's sleep! Now, now again the voice I hear; O Pilgrim! where hast thou been roaming? Peace to them whose days are done, Death their eyelids closing ; "Tis time for our reposing. Here, then, my Pilgrim's course is o'er : 'Tis my master! 'tis my master! Welcome here once more; Come to our shed-all toil is over; Pilgrim no more, but knight and lover. I CAN NO LONGER STIFLE. I. I CAN no longer stifle, How much I long to rifle They call the heart Of you, you lovely trifle! So let me be about it, Or on my word, And by the Lord, I'll try to do without it. II. This pretty thing's as light, Sir, As any paper kite, Sir, And here and there, And God knows where, She takes her wheeling flight, Sir. There, hung like bobs Of straw, or nobs, She whisks us where she chooses. I SAW THE MOON RISE CLEAR. I. I SAW the moon rise clear O'er hills and vales of snow, Nor told my fleet rein-deer The track I wish'd to go. II. The gloom that winter cast More true than summer sun, JOYS THAT PASS AWAY. I. Joys that pass away like this, Alas! are purchased dear, If every beam of bliss Is follow'd by a tear. Fare thee well! oh, fare thee well! Soon, too soon thou hast broke the spell. The girl whose faithless art And with it break my heart. II. Once, when truth was in those eyes, How beautiful they shone; But now that lustre flies, For truth, alas! is gone. Fare thee well! oh, fare thee well! If, when deceived in love, He could not fly to hate. LIGHT SOUNDS THE HARP. I. LIGHT Sounds the harp when the combat is over When heroes are resting, and joy is in bloomWhen laurels hang loose from the brow of the lover, And Cupid makes wings of the warrior's plume. But, when the foe returns, Again the hero burns; High flames the sword in his hand once more: |