Εικόνες σελίδας
PDF
Ηλεκτρ. έκδοση

Wi' monie a vow and locked embrace
Our parting was fu' tender;
And pledging aft to meet again,
We tore ourselves asunder;
But oh! fell death's untimely frost,

That nipt my flower sae early!

Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips
I aft hae kissed sae fondly!

And closed for aye the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!

But still within my bosom's core

Shall live my Highland Mary.

ROBERT BURNS.

When first I met Thee.

HEN first I met thee, warm and young,

WHEN

There shone such truth about thee,

And on thy lip such promise hung,

I did not dare to doubt thee.

I saw thee change, yet still relied,

Still clung with hope the fonder,
And thought, though false to all beside,
From me thou could'st not wander.
But go, deceiver! go:

The heart, whose hopes could make it
Trust one so false, so low,

Deserves that thou shouldst break it.

When every tongue thy follies named,
I fled the unwelcome story;

WHEN FIRST I MET THEE.

Or found, in e'en the faults they blamed,
Some gleams of future glory.

I still was true, when nearer friends
Conspired to wrong, to slight thee;
The heart that now thy falsehood rends
Would then have bled to right thee.
But go, deceiver! go-

Some day, perhaps, thou'lt waken
From pleasure's dream, to know
The grief of hearts forsaken.

E'en now, though youth its bloom has shed,
No lights of age adorn thee:

The few who loved thee once, have fled,
And they who flatter, scorn thee..
Thy midnight cup is pledged to slaves,
No genial ties enwreathe it ;

The smiling there, like light on graves,
Has rank cold hearts beneath it.
Go-go-though worlds were thine,
I would not now surrender

One taintless tear of mine

For all thy guilty splendor!

And days may come, thou false one! yet,
When e'en those ties shall sever;
When thou wilt call, with vain regret,
On her thou'st lost forever;

On her who, in thy fortune's fall,

With smiles had still received thee,

And gladly died to prove thee all

Her fancy first believed thee.
Go-go-'tis vain to curse,

'Tis weakness to upbraid thee;

Hate cannot wish thee worse

Than guilt and shame have made thee.

179

THOMAS MOORE.

The Bridal of Andalla.

"RISE up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion

down;

Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town!
From gay guitar and violin the silver notes are flowing,
And the lovely lute doth speak between the trumpets' lordly

blowing,

And banners bright from lattice light are waving every

where,

And the tall, tall plume of our cousin's bridegroom floats proudly in the air.

Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town!

"Arise, arise, Xarifa! I see Andalla's face—

He bends him to the people with a calm and princely grace; Through all the land of Xeres and banks of Guadelquiver Rode forth bridegroom so brave as he, so brave and lovely

never.

Yon tall plume waving o'er his brow, of purple mixed with white,

I guess 'twas wreathed by Zara, whom he will wed to-night. Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town!

"What aileth thee, Xarifa-what makes thine eyes look down?

Why stay ye from the window far, nor gaze with all the town? I've heard you say on many a day, and sure you said the truth,

Andalla rides without a peer among all Granada's youth: Without a peer he rideth, and yon milk-white horse doth go Beneath his stately master, with a stately step and slow : Then rise-Oh! rise, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down; Unseen here through the lattice, you may gaze with all the

town!"

THE BRIDAL OF ANDALLA.

The Zegri lady rose not, nor laid her cushion down,
Nor came she to the window to gaze with all the town;

181

But though her eyes dwelt on her knee, in vain her fingers

strove,

And though her needle pressed the silk, no flower Xarifa

wove ;

One bonny rose-bud she had traced before the noise drew

nigh

That bonny bud a tear effaced, slow drooping from her eye“No, no!” she sighs, "bid me not rise, nor lay my cushion

down,

To gaze upon Andalla with all the gazing town!"

"Why rise ye not, Xarifa, nor lay your cushion down-Why gaze ye not, Xarifa, with all the gazing town?

Hear, hear the trumpet how it swells, and how the people

cry;

He stops at Zara's palace-gate-why sit ye still--O, why ?" -"At Zara's gate stops Zara's mate; in him shall I discover The dark-eyed youth pledged me his truth with tears, and was my lover?

I will not rise, with weary eyes, nor lay my cushion down, To gaze on false Andalla with all the gazing town!" ANONYMOUS. Spanish.

Translated by JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART

Beauty and the Butterfly.

S rising on its purple wing,

[ocr errors]

The insect queen of Eastern spring
O'er emerald meadows of Cashmere
Invites the young pursuer near,

And leads him on from flower to flower,
A weary chase and wasted hour;
Then leaves him, as it soars on high,
With panting heart and tearful eye;
So Beauty lures the full-grown child,
With hue as bright and wing as wild;
A chase of idle hopes and fears,
Begun in folly, closed in tears.
If won, to equal ills betrayed;
Woe waits the insect and the maid;
A life of pain, the loss of peace,
From infant's play or man's caprice.
The lovely toy so fiercely sought,
Hath lost its charm from being caught;
For every touch that wooed its stay,
Hath brushed its brightest hues away,
Till charm, and hue, and beauty gone,
'Tis left to fly or fall alone.
With wounded wing or bleeding breast,
Ah, where shall either victim rest?
Can this with faded pinion soar

From rose to tulip as before?

Or Beauty, blighted in an hour,

Find joy within her broken bower?

No, gayer insects fluttering by,

Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die;

And lovelier things have mercy shown
To every failing but their own;
And every woe a tear can claim
Except an erring sister's shame.

LORD BYRON.

« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »