And dearly have I earned my lightest woe.
Oh! if we e’er have loved, lady,
We must forego it now;
Though sore the heart be moved, lady,
When bound to break its vow.
I’ll alway think on thee,
And thou sometimes—on whom, lady?
And yet those thoughts must be
Like flowers flung on the tomb, lady,
Then think that I am blest, lady,
Though aye for thee I sigh;
In peace and beauty rest, lady,
Nor mourn and mourn as I.From one we love to part, lady,
Is harder than to die;
I see it by thy heart, lady,
I feel it by thine eye.
Thy lightest look can tell
Thy heaviest thought to me, lady;
Oh! I have loved thee well,
But well seems ill with thee, lady;
Though sore the heart be moved, lady,
When bound to break its vow—
Yet if we ever loved, lady,
We must forego it now.—
Come, I must separate you two:
Such wretchedness will never do.
The little cloud of grief which just appears,
If left to spread, will drown us all in tears.
Oblige us, pray, then, with a song.
I am sure he has a singing face.
At church I heard him loud and long.
Pardon—bu you are doubly wrong.
Obey, I beg. Here—give him place.
I have not sung for ages, mind;
So you must take me as you find.
This is a song supposed of one—
A fallen spirit—name unknown—
Fettered upon his fiery throne—
Calling on his once angel-love,
Who still remaineth true above. Sings.
Thou hast more music in thy voice
Than to the spheres is given,
And more temptations on thy lips
Than lost the angels Heaven.
Thou hast more brightness in thine eyes
Than all the stars which burn,
More dazzling art thou than the throne
We fallen dared to spurn.Go search through Heaven—the sweetest smile
That lightens there is thine;
And through Hell’s burning darkness breaks
No frown so fell as mine.
One smile—’twill light, one tear—’twill cool;
These will be more to me
Than all the wealth of all the worlds,
Or boundless power could be.
Entreat him, pray, to sing again.
Any thing any one desires.
Your loveliness hath but to deign
To will, and he’ll do all that will requires.
Sings.
Oh! many a cloud
Hath lift its wing,
And many a leaf
Hath clad the spring;
But there shall be thrice
The leaf and cloud,
And thrice shall the world
Have worn her shroud,
Ere there’s any like thee,
But where thou wilt be.Oh! many a storm
Hath drenched the sun,
And many a stream
To sea hath run;
But there shall be thrice
The storm and stream,
Ere there’s any like thee,
But in angel’s dream;
Or in look, or in love,
But in Heaven above.
What is love? Oh! I wonder so,
Do tell me—who pretends to know?
Ask not of me, love, what is love?
Ask what is good of God above—
Ask of the great sun what is light—
Ask what is darkness of the night—
Ask sin of what may be forgiven—
Ask what is happiness of Heaven—
Ask what is folly of the crowd—
Ask what is fashion of the shroud—
Ask what is sweetness of thy kiss—
Ask of thyself what beauty is;
And, if they each should answer, I!
Let me, too, join them with a sigh.
Oh I let me pray my life may prove,
When thus, with thee, that I am love.
I cannot love as I have loved,
And yet I know not why;
It is the one great woe of life
To feel all feeling die;
And one by one the heartstrings snap,
As age comes on so chill;
And hope seems left that hope may cease,
And all will soon be still.
And the strong passions, like to storms,
Soon rage themselves to rest,
Or leave a desolated calm—
A worn and wasted breast;
A heart that like the Geyser spring,
Amidst its bosomed snows,
May shrink, not rest—but with its blood
Boils even in repose.
And yet the things one might have loved
Remain as they have been—
Truth ever lovely, and one heart
Still sacred and serene;
But lower, less, and grosser things
Eclipse the world-like mind,
And leave their cold dark shadow where
Most to the light inclined.
And then it ends as it began,
The orbit of our race,
In pains and tears, and fears of life,
And the new dwelling place.
From life to death—from death to life
We hurry round to God,
And leave behind us nothing but
The path that we have trod.
In vain I try to lure thy heart
From grief to mirth.
It were as easy to ward off
Night from the earth.
Fill! I’ll drink it till I die—
Helen’s lip and Helen’s eye!
An eye which outsparkles
The beads of the wine,
With a hue which outdarkles
The deeps where they shine.
Come! with that lightly flushing brow,
And darkly splendid eye,
And white and wavy arms which now,
Like snow-wreaths on the dark brown bough,
So softly on me lie.
Come! let us love, while love we may,
Ere youth’s bright sands be run;
The hour is nigh when every soul
Which ’scapeth evil’s dread control,
Nor drains the furies’ fiery bowl,
Shall into Heaven for aye,
And love its God alone.
Now let me leave my throne; and if the hours
Have measured every moment by a kiss,
As I do think, since first ye gave these flowers,
It was to teach us how to dial bliss.
Farewell, dear crown, thy mistress will not wear,
Save when she sitteth royally alone.
Farewell, too, throne! not quickly wilt thou bear
A happier form, if fairer than mine own.
The ladies leave us!
Oh! by all means let them;
But say, for Heaven itself, we’ll not forget them;
Say we will pledge them to the top of breath,
As loud as thunder, and as deep as death.
Apart.
Where is thy grave, my love?
I want to weep.
High as thou art this earth above,
My woe is deep;
And my heart is cold as is thy grave,
Where I can neither soothe nor save.
Whate’er I say, or do, or see,
I think and feel alone to thee.
Oh! can it—can it be forgiven,
That I forget thou art in Heaven?
Thou wilt forgive me this, and more:
Love spends his all, and still hath store.
Thou wilt forgive, if beauty’s wile
Should win, perforce, one glance from me;
When they, whose art it is to smile,
Can never smile my heart
