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And is there then no earthly place
As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow
Come list, while I tell of the heart-wounded Stranger.
Come, maids and youths, for here we sell
Come, play me that simple air again
Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer
Dear Harp of my Country! in darkness I found thee
Faintly as tolls the evening chime
Even here, in this region of wonders, I find
Fare thee well, thou lovely one!.
Farewell-farewell to thee, Araby's daughter!
Fleetly o'er the moonlit snows
Flow on, thou shining river.
Fly not yet, 't is just the hour.
Farewell-but whenever you welcome the hour
From rise of morn till set of sun
Gaily sounds the castanet
Hark! the vesper hymn is stealing
Hark! 'tis the breeze of twilight calling
Have you not seen the timid tear
Her last words at parting, how can I forget?.
I know where the winged visions dwell.
How dear to me the hour when daylight dies .
How lightly mounts the Muse's wing
Hymen, late, his love-knots selling
I dreamt that, in the Paphian groves
I found her not-the chamber seem'd
I give thee all-I can no more.
I knew by the smoke, that so gracefully curl'd
I love a maid, a mystic maid
I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining
I've a secret to tell thee, but hush! not here
I've been, oh, sweet daughter.
If, after all, you still will doubt and fear me
If life for me hath joy or light
If thou wouldst have me sing and play.
In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown
In vain all the Knights of the Underwald woo'd her
Is it not sweet to think, hereafter
It came o'er her sleep, like a voice of those days
Light sounds the harp when the combat is over
Like one who, doom'd o'er distant seas.
March nor heed those arms that hold thee
Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade
Oh fair! oh purest! be thou the dove
Oh! had we some bright little isle of our own
Oh, lost, for ever lost-no more
Oh! the days are gone, when Beauty bright
Oh, the sight entrancing
Oh! think not my spirits are always as light.
O Thou! who dry'st the mourner's tear
Our first young love resembles
Our hearts, my love, were form'd to be.
Our white sail caught the ev'ning ray
Poor broken flower! what art can now recover thee
Reason, and Folly, and Beauty, they say
Rich and rare were the gems she wore
Rose of the Desert! thou, whose blushing ray
She sung of Love, while o'er her lyre
Should those fond hopes e'er forsake thee
Slumber, oh slumber; if sleeping thou mak'st
Strike the gay harp! see the moon is on high
The more I've view'd this world, the more I've found
There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream
They both were hush'd, the voice, the chords
They may rail at this life-from the hour I began it
They told her that he to whose vows she had listen'd
This life is all chequer'd with pleasures and woes
Thou art, O God, the life and light.
Thou bidst me sing the lay I sung to thee.
'Tis believed that this Harp, which I wake now for thee
Welcome, sweet bird, through the sunny air winging
What shall I sing thee? Shall I tell
When cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast loved
When Love was a child, and went idling round
Young Love found a dial once, in a dark shade
Yes, yes, when the bloom of Love's boyhood is o'er
Young Jessica sat all the day
Richard Clay, Printer, Bread Street Hill, London.