The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 116

Let's take this world as some wide scene.

Thro' which in frail but buoyant boat, With skies now dark and now serene, Together thou and I must float; Beholding oft on either sh.o.r.e Bright spots where we should love to stay; But Time plies swift his flying oar, And away we speed, away, away.

Should chilling winds and rains come on, We'll raise our awning 'gainst the shower; Sit closer till the storm is gone, And, smiling, wait a sunnier hour.

And if that sunnier hour should s.h.i.+ne, We'll know its brightness cannot stay, But happy while 'tis thine and mine,

Complain not when it fades away.

So shall we reach at last that Fall Down which life's currents all must go,-- The dark, the brilliant, destined all To sink into the void below.

Nor even that hour shall want its charms, If, side by side, still fond we keep, And calmly, in each other's arms Together linked, go down the steep.

LOVE'S VICTORY.

Sing to Love--for, oh, 'twas he Who won the glorious day; Strew the wreaths of victory Along the conqueror's way.

Yoke the Muses to his car, Let them sing each trophy won; While his mother's joyous star Shall light the triumph on.

Hail to Love, to mighty Love, Let spirits sing around; While the hill, the dale, and grove, With "mighty Love" resound; Or, should a sigh of sorrow steal Amid the sounds thus echoed o'er, 'Twill but teach the G.o.d to feel His victories the more.

See his wings, like amethyst Of sunny Ind their hue; Bright as when, by Psyche kist, They trembled thro' and thro'.

Flowers spring beneath his feet; Angel forms beside him run; While unnumbered lips repeat "Love's victory is won!"

Hail to Love, to mighty Love, etc,

SONG OF HERCULES TO HIS DAUGHTER.[1]

"I've been, oh, sweet daughter, "To fountain and sea, "To seek in their water "Some bright gem for thee.

"Where diamonds were sleeping, "Their sparkle I sought, "Where crystal was weeping, "Its tears I have caught.

"The sea-nymph I've courted "In rich coral halls; "With Naiads have sported "By bright waterfalls.

"But sportive or tender, "Still sought I around "That gem, with whose splendor "Thou yet shalt be crowned.

"And see, while I'm speaking, "Yon soft light afar;-- "The pearl I've been seeking "There floats like a star!

"In the deep Indian Ocean "I see the gem s.h.i.+ne, "And quick as light's motion "Its wealth shall be thine."

Then eastward, like lightning, The hero-G.o.d flew, His sunny looks brightening The air he went thro'.

And sweet was the duty, And hallowed the hour, Which saw thus young Beauty Embellished by Power.

[1] Founded on the fable reported by Arrian (in Indicis) of Hercules having searched the Indian Ocean, to find the pearl with which he adorned his daughter Pandaea.

THE DREAM OF HOME.

Who has not felt how sadly sweet The dream of home, the dream of home, Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, When far o'er sea or land we roam?

Sunlight more soft may o'er us fall, To greener sh.o.r.es our bark may come; But far more bright, more dear than all, That dream of home, that dream of home.

Ask the sailor youth when far His light bark bounds o'er ocean's foam, What charms him most, when evening's star Smiles o'er the wave? to dream of home.

Fond thoughts of absent friends and loves At that sweet hour around him come; His heart's best joy where'er he roves, That dream of home, that dream of home.

THEY TELL ME THOU'RT THE FAVORED GUEST.

They tell me thou'rt the favored guest Of every fair and brilliant throng; No wit like thine to wake the jest, No voice like thine to breathe the song; And none could guess, so gay thou art, That thou and I are far apart.

Alas! alas! how different flows With thee and me the time away!

Not that I wish thee sad--heaven knows-- Still if thou canst, be light and gay; I only know, that without thee The sun himself is dark to me.

Do I thus haste to hall and bower, Among the proud and gay to s.h.i.+ne?

Or deck my hair with gem and flower, To flatter other eyes than thine?

Ah, no, with me love's smiles are past Thou hadst the first, thou hadst the last.

THE YOUNG INDIAN MAID.

There came a nymph dancing Gracefully, gracefully, Her eye a light glancing Like the blue sea; And while all this gladness Around her steps hung, Such sweet notes of sadness Her gentle lips sung, That ne'er while I live from my memory shall fade The song or the look of that young Indian maid.

Her zone of bells ringing Cheerily, cheerily, Chimed to her singing Light echoes of glee; But in vain did she borrow Of mirth the gay tone, Her voice spoke of sorrow, And sorrow alone.

Nor e'er while I live from my memory shall fade The song or the look of that young Indian maid.