BELIEVE ME, IF ALL THOSE ENDEARING YOUNG CHARMS. Believe me, if all those endearing young charms, Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet 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. 1 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, But nor earth nor heaven is free 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, 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! And the best of all ways 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. THE TIME I'VE LOST IN WOOING. The time I've lost in wooing, In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing. Were woman's looks, And folly's all they've taught me. Her smile when Beauty granted, Oft meet in glen that's haunted. Was turned away O! winds could not outrun me. And are those follies going? Too cold or wise For brilliant eyes Again to set it glowing? No, vain, alas! th' endeavour From bonds so sweet to sever; Against a glance Is now as weak as ever. |