"Enough, enough, my yeoman good, Thy grief let none gainsay; But I, who am of lighter mood, Will laugh to flee away. "For who would trust the seeming sighs Of wife or paramour? Fresh feres will dry the bright blue eyes We late saw streaming o'er. For pleasures past I do not grieve, Nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave No thing that claims a tear. "And now I'm in the world alone, But long ere I come back again, "With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go Athwart the foaming brine; Nor care what land thou bear'st me to, Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves! My native Land-Good Night!" STANZAS. "COULD LOVE FOR EVER." COULD Love for ever Run like a river, And Time's endeavor Be tried in vain No other pleasure With this could measure; And like a treasure We'd hug the chain. But since our sighing Ends not in dying, And, formed for flying, Love plumes his wing; Then for this reason Let's love a season, But let that season be only Spring. When lovers parted Feel broken-hearted, A few years older, They might behold her For whom they sigh! When linked together They pluck Love's feather From out his wing He'll stay for ever, But sadly shiver Without his plumage, when past the Spring. Life Chiefs of Faction, His life is action A formal paction That curbs his reign, Obscures his glory, Quits with disdain. He must move on- Love brooks not a degraded throne. Wait not, fond lover! Till years are over, And then recover As from a dream. While each bewailing With wrath and railing All hideous seem Then part in friendship, and bid good-night. So shall Affection, To recollection The dear connection Bring back with joy ; You had not waited The same fond faces As through the past And eyes, the mirrors Of your sweet errors Reflect but rapture - not least though last. True, separations Ask more than patience : What desperations From such have risen! But yet remaining, What is 't but chaining Hearts which, once waning, Beat 'gainst their prison? Time can but cloy love, Though sharper, shorter, To wean, and not wear out your joys. THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. THERE was a sound of revelry by night, The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! No; 't was but the wind, Did ye not hear it? On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But, hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! Arm! it is-it is the cannon's opening roar! |