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"Prepare, prepare, my Cupids all!"
Each Cupid stood with lighted match—
And swept the whole unhallowed batch
"Huzza, huzza! my Cupids all!"
Said Love, the little Admiral.
STILL THOU FLIEST.
Still thou fliest, and still I woo thee,
Lovely phantom,—all in vain; Restless ever, my thoughts pursue thee,
Fleeting ever, thou mock'st their pain. Such doom, of old, that youth betided,
Who woo'd, he thought, some angel's charms, But found a cloud that from him glided,—
As thou dost from these outstretch'd arms.
Scarce I've said, "How fair thou shinest,"
Ere thy light hath vanish'd by; And 'tis when thou look'st divinest
Thou art still more sure to fly. Ev'n as the light'ning, that, dividing
The clouds of night, saith, "Look on me," Then flits again, its splendour hiding, —
Ev'n such the glimpse I catch of thee. o s
THEN FIRST FROM LOVE.
Then first from Love, in Nature's bow'rs,
Did Painting learn her fairy skill,
To picture woman lovelier still.
Till passion lent a soul to art,
To fix the model in his heart.
Thus smooth his toil awhile went on,
Till, lo, one touch his art defies;
But who could dare to paint those eyes?
So turning to that boy divine,
"No hand should paint such eyes, but thine.'
HUSH, SWEET LUTE.
Hush, sweet Lute, thy songs remind me
Of past joys, now turn'd to pain;
But whose burning marks remain.
On my ear of joys gone by;
Of bright hopes but born to die.
Yet, sweet Lute, though pain it bring me,
Once more let thy numbers thrill;
I must woo its anguish still.
Love's sweet light when once 'tis set, —
Than smile o'er any left us yet.
Bright moon, that high in heav'n art shining,
All smiles, as if within thy bower to-night Thy own Endymion lay reclining,
And thou would'st wake him with a kiss of light !By all the bliss thy beam discovers,
By all those visions far too bright for day, Which dreaming bards and waking lovers
Behold, this night, beneath thy ling'ring ray, —
I pray thee, queen of that bright heaven,
Quench not to-night thy love-lamp in the sea, Till Anthe, in this bower, hath given
Beneath thy beam, her long-vow'd kiss to me. Guide hither, guide her steps benighted,
Ere thou, sweet moon, thy bashful crescent hide; Let Love but in this bow'r be lighted,
Then shroud in darkness all the world beside.
LONG YEARS HAVE PASST).
Long years have pass'd, old friend, since we
First met in life's young day;
Since then have dropped away;—
And sweeten, when thus we're met, The glass we fill to the many gone,
And the few who're left us yet.
Our locks, old friend, now thinly grow,
And some hang white and chill;
Retain youth's colour still.
Youth's sunny hopes have set,
We've some to cheer us yet.
Then here's to thee, old friend, and long
May thou and I thus meet,
This short life, ere it fleet.
Let's never, old friend, forget,
How many are left us yet.
DREAMING FOR EVER.
Dreaming for ever, vainly dreaming,
Life to the last pursues its flight;
But false as those of night.
But both the same brief dreams at last;
Soon as it shines, 'tis past.
Here, then, by this dim lake reposing,
Calmly I'll watch, while light and gloom
Emblem of life's short doom!
'Tis still unlike man's changeful day,
Whose cloud, once come, will stay.
THOUGH LIGHTLY SOUNDS THE SONG I SING.
A SONG OP THE ALPS.
Though lightly sounds the song I sing to thee,