by Thomas Moore
SO WARMLY WE MET.
(HUNGARIAN AIR.)
So warmly we met and so fondly we parted,
That which was the sweeter even I could not tell, —
That first look of welcome her sunny eyes darted,
Or that tear of passion, which blest our farewell.
To meet was a heaven and to part thus another, —
Our joy and our sorrow seemed rivals in bliss;
Oh! Cupid’s two eyes are not liker each other
In smiles and in tears than that moment to this.
The first was like day-break, new, sudden, delicious, —
The dawn of a pleasure scarce kindled up yet;
The last like the farewell of daylight, more precious,
More glowing and deep, as ’tis nearer its set.
Our meeting, tho’ happy, was tinged by a sorrow
To think that such happiness could not remain;
While our parting, tho’ sad, gave a hope that to-morrow
Would bring back the blest hour of meeting again.
THOSE EVENING BELLS.
(AIR. — THE BELLS OF ST. PETERSBURGH.)
Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells,
Of youth and home and that sweet time
When last I heard their soothing chime.
Those joyous hours are past away:
And many a heart, that then was gay.
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.
And so ‘twill be when I am gone:
That tuneful peal will still ring on,
While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells!
SHOULD THOSE FOND HOPES.
(PORTUGUESE AIR.)
Should those fond hopes e’er forsake thee,
Which now so sweetly thy heart employ:
Should the cold world come to wake thee
From all thy visions of youth and joy;
Should the gay friends, for whom thou wouldst banish
Him who once thought thy young heart his own,
All, like spring birds, falsely vanish,
And leave thy winter unheeded and lone; —
Oh! ’tis then that he thou hast slighted
Would come to cheer thee, when all seem’d o’er;
Then the truant, lost and blighted,
Would to his bosom be taken once more.
Like that dear bird we both can remember,
Who left us while summer shone round,
But, when chilled by bleak December,
On our threshold a welcome still found.
REASON, FOLLY, AND BEAUTY.
(ITALIAN AIR.)
Reason and Folly and Beauty, they say,
Went on a party of pleasure one day:
Folly played
Around the maid,
The bells of his cap rung merrily out;
While Reason took
To his sermon-book —
Oh! which was the pleasanter no one need doubt,
Which was the pleasanter no one need doubt.
Beauty, who likes to be thought very sage.
Turned for a moment to Reason’s dull page,
Till Folly said,
“Look here, sweet maid!” —
The sight of his cap brought her back to herself;
While Reason read
His leaves of lead,
With no one to mind him, poor sensible elf!
No, — no one to mind him, poor sensible elf!
Then Reason grew jealous of Folly’s gay cap;
Had he that on, he her heart might entrap —
“There it is,”
Quoth Folly, “old quiz!”
(Folly was always good-natured, ’tis said,)
“Under the sun
There’s no such fun,
As Reason with my cap and bells on his head!”
“Reason with my cap and bells on his head!”
But Reason the head-dress so awkwardly wore,
That Beauty now liked him still less than before;
While Folly took
Old Reason’s book,
And twisted the leaves in a cap of such ton,
That Beauty vowed
(Tho’ not aloud),
She liked him still better in that than his own,
Yes, — liked him still better in that than his own.
FARE THEE WELL, THOU LOVELY ONE!
(SICILIAN AIR.)
Fare thee well, thou lovely one!
Lovely still, but dear no more;
Once his soul of truth is gone,
Love’s sweet life is o’er.
Thy words, what e’er their flattering spell,
Could scarce have thus deceived;
But eyes that acted truth so well
Were sure to be believed.
Then, fare thee well, thou lovely one!
Lovely still, but dear no more;
Once his soul of truth is gone,
Love’s sweet life is o’er.
Yet those eyes look constant still,
True as stars they keep their light;
Still those cheeks their pledge fulfil
Of blushing always bright.
’Tis only on thy changeful heart
The blame of falsehood lies;
Love lives in every other part,
But there, alas! he dies.
Then, fare thee well, thou lovely one!
Lovely still, but dear no more;
Once his soul of truth is gone,
Love’s sweet life is o’er.
DOST THOU REMEMBER.
(PORTUGUESE AIR.)
Dost thou remember that place so lonely,
A place for lovers and lovers only,
Where first I told thee all my secret sighs?
When, as the moonbeam that trembled o’er thee
Illumed thy blushes, I knelt before thee,
And read my hope’s sweet triumph in those eyes?
Then, then, while closely heart was drawn to heart,
Love bound us — never, never more to part!
And when I called thee by names the dearest1
That love could fancy, the fondest, nearest, —
“My life, my only life!” among the rest;
In those sweet accents that still enthral me,
Thou saidst, “Ah!” wherefore thy life thus call me?
“Thy soul, thy soul’s the name I love best;
“For life soon passes, — but how blest to be
“That Soul which never, never parts from thee!”
1 The thought in this verse is borrowed from the original Portuguese words.
OH, COME TO ME WHEN DAYLIGHT SETS.
(VENETIAN AIR.)
Oh, come to me when daylight sets;
Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets
O’er the moonlight sea.
When Mirth’s awake, and Love begins,
Beneath that glancing ray,
With sound of lutes and mandolins,
To steal young hearts away.
Then, come to me when daylight sets;
Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets
O’er the moonlight sea.
Oh, then’s the hour for those who love,
Sweet, like thee and me;
When all’s so calm below, above,
In Heaven and o’er the sea.
When maiden’s sing sweet barcarolles,
And Echo sings again
So sweet, that all with ears and souls
Should love and listen then.
So, come to me when daylight sets;
Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets
O’er the moonlight sea.
OFT, IN THE STILLY NIGHT.
(SCOTCH AIR.)
Oft in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber’s chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood’s years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber’s chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
When I remember all
The friends, so linked together,
I’ve seen around me fall,
Like leaves in wintry weather;
I feel like one,
Who treads alone,
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber’s chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
HARK! THE VESPER HYMN IS STEALING.
(RUSSIAN AIR.)
Hark! the vesper hymn is stealing
O’er the waters soft and clear;
Nearer yet and nearer pealing,
And now bursts upon the ear:
Jubilate, Amen.
Farther now, now farther stealing
Soft it fades upon the ear:
Jubilate, Amen.
Now, like moonlight waves retreating
To the shore it dies along;
Now, like angry surges meeting,
Breaks the mingled tide of song
Jubilate, Amen.
Hush! again, like waves, retreating
To the shore, it dies along:
Jubilate, Amen.
LOVE AND HOPE.
(SWISS AIR.)
At morn, beside yon summer sea,
Young Hope and Love reclined;
But scarce had noon-tide come, when he
Into his bark leapt smilingly,
And left poor Hope behind.
“I go,” said Love, “to sail awhile
“Across this sunny main;”
And then so sweet, his parting smile,
That Hope, who never dreamt of guile,
Believed he’d come again.
She lingered there till evening’s beam
Along the waters lay;
And o’er the sands, in thoughtful dream,
Oft traced his name, which still the stream
As often washed away.
At length a sail appears in sight,
And toward the maiden moves!
’Tis Wealth that comes, and gay and bright,
His golden bark reflects the light,
But ah! it is not Love’s.
Another sail— ’twas Friendship showed
Her night-lamp o’er the sea;
And calm the light that lamp bestowed;
But Love had lights that warmer glowed,
And where, alas! was he?
Now fast around the sea and shore
Night threw her darkling chain;
The sunny sails were seen no more,
Hope’s morning dreams of bliss were o’er —
Love never came again!
THERE COMES A TIME.
(GERMAN AIR.)
There comes a time, a dreary time,
To him whose heart hath flown
O’er all the fields of youth’s sweet prime,
And made each flow its own.
’Tis when his soul must first renounce
Those dreams so bright, so fond;
Oh! then’s the time to die at once.
For life has naught beyond.
When sets the sun on Afric’s shore,
That instant all is night;
And so should life at once be o’er.
When Love withdraws his light; —
Nor, like our northern day, gleam on
Thro’ twilight’s dim delay,
The cold remains of lustre gone,
Of fire long past away.
MY HARP HAS ONE UNCHANGING THEME.
(SWEDISH AIR.)
My harp has one unchanging theme,
One strain that still comes o’er
Its languid chord, as ‘twere a dream
Of joy that’s now no more.
In vain I try, with livelier air,
To wake the breathing string;
That voice of other times is there,
And saddens all I sing.
Breathe on, breathe on, thou languid strain,
Henceforth be all my own;
Tho’ thou art oft so full of pain
Few hearts can bear thy tone.
Yet oft thou’rt sweet, as if the sigh,
The breath that Pleasure’s wings
Gave out, when last they wantoned by.
Were still upon thy strings.
OH, NO — NOT EVEN WHEN FIRST WE LOVED.
(CASHMERIAN AIR.)
Oh, no — not even when first we loved,
Wert thou as dear as now thou art;
Thy beauty then my senses moved,
But now thy virtues bind my heart.
What was but Passion’s sigh before,
Has since been turned to Reason’s vow;
And, though I then might love thee more,
Trust me, I love thee better now.
Altho’ my heart in earlier youth
Might kindle with more wild desire,
Believe me, it has gained in truth
Much more than it has lost in fire.
The flame now warms my inmost core,
That then but sparkled o’er my brow,
And, though I seemed to love thee more,
Yet, oh, I love thee better now.
PEACE BE AROUND THEE.
(SCOTCH AIR.)
Peace be around thee, wherever thou rov’st;
May life be for thee one summer’s day,
And all that thou wishest and all that thou lov’st
Come smiling around thy sunny way!
If sorrow e’er this calm should break,
May even thy tears pass off so lightly,
Like spring-showers, they’ll only make
The smiles, that follow shine more brightly.
May Time who sheds his blight o’er all
And daily dooms some joy to death
O’er thee let years so gently fall,
They shall not crush one flower beneath.
As half in shade and half in sun
This world along its path advances.
May that side the sun’s upon
Be all that e’er shall meet thy glances!
COMMON SENSE AND GENIUS.
(FRENCH AIR.)
While I touch the string,
Wreathe my brows with laurel,
For the tale I sing
Has, for once, a moral.
Common Sense, one night,
Tho’ not used to gambols,
Went out by moonlight,
With Genius, on his rambles.
While I touch the string, etc.
Common Sense went on,
Many wise things saying;
While the light that shone
Soon set Genius straying.
One his eye ne’er raised
From the path before him;
T’other idly gazed
On each night-cloud o’er him.
While I touch the string, etc.
So they came, at last,
To a shady river;
Common Sense soon past,
Safe, as he doth ever;
While the boy, whose look
Was in Heaven that minute.
Never saw the brook,
But tumbled headlong in it!
While I touch the string, etc.
How the Wise One smiled,
When safe o’er the torrent,
At that you
th, so wild,
Dripping from the current!
Sense went home to bed;
Genius, left to shiver
On the bank, ’tis said,
Died of that cold river!
While I touch the string, etc.
THEN, FARE THEE WELL.
(OLD ENGLISH AIR.)
Then, fare thee well, my own dear love,
This world has now for us
No greater grief, no pain above
The pain of parting thus,
Dear love!
The pain of parting thus.
Had we but known, since first we met,
Some few short hours of bliss,
We might, in numbering them, forget
The deep, deep pain of this,
Dear love!
The deep, deep pain of this.
But no, alas, we’ve never seen
One glimpse of pleasure’s ray,
But still there came some cloud between,
And chased it all away,
Dear love!
And chased it all away.
Yet, even could those sad moments last,
Far dearer to my heart
Were hours of grief, together past,
Than years of mirth apart,
Dear love!
Than years of mirth apart.
Farewell! our hope was born in fears,
And nurst mid vain regrets:
Like winter suns, it rose in tears,
Like them in tears it sets,
Dear love!
Like them in tears it sets.
GAYLY SOUNDS THE CASTANET.
(MALTESE AIR.)
Gayly sounds the castanet,
Beating time to bounding feet,
When, after daylight’s golden set,
Maids and youths by moonlight meet.
Oh, then, how sweet to move
Thro’ all that maze of mirth,
Led by light from eyes we love
Beyond all eyes on earth.
Then, the joyous banquet spread
On the cool and fragrant ground,
With heaven’s bright sparklers overhead,
And still brighter sparkling round.
Oh, then, how sweet to say
Into some loved one’s ear,
Thoughts reserved thro’ many a day
To be thus whispered here.
When the dance and feast are done,
Arm in arm as home we stray,
How sweet to see the dawning sun
O’er her cheek’s warm blushes play!
Then, too, the farewell kiss —
