The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 136

_Ell' e de'suoi begli occhi veder vaga, Com' io dell'adornarmi con le mani; Lei lo vodere e me l'ovrare appaga_.

DANTE, _Purg. Canto xxvii_.

'Twas eve's soft hour, and bright, above.

The star of beauty beamed, While lulled by light so full of love, In slumber thus I dreamed-- Methought, at that sweet hour, A nymph came o'er the lea, Who, gathering many a flower, Thus said and sung to me:-- "Should any ask what Leila loves, "Say thou, To wreathe her hair "With flowerets culled from glens and groves, "Is Leila's only care.

"While thus in quest of flowers rare, "O'er hill and dale I roam, "My sister, Rachel, far more fair, "Sits lone and mute at home.

"Before her gla.s.s untiring, "With thoughts that never stray, "Her own bright eyes admiring, "She sits the live-long day; "While I!--oh, seldom even a look "Of self salutes my eye; "My only gla.s.s, the limpid brook, "That s.h.i.+nes and pa.s.ses by."

SOVEREIGN WOMAN.

A BALLAD.

The dance was o'er, yet still in dreams That fairy scene went on; Like clouds still flusht with daylight gleams Tho' day itself is gone.

And gracefully to music's sound, The same bright nymphs were gliding round; While thou, the Queen of all, wert there-- The Fairest still, where all were fair.

The dream then changed--in halls of state, I saw thee high enthroned; While, ranged around, the wise, the great, In thee their mistress owned; And still the same, thy gentle sway O'er willing subjects won its way-- Till all confest the Right Divine To rule o'er man was only thine!

But, lo, the scene now changed again-- And borne on plumed steed, I saw thee o'er the battle-plain Our land's defenders lead: And stronger in thy beauty's charms, Than man, with countless hosts in arms, Thy voice, like music, cheered the Free, Thy very smile was victory!

Nor reign such queens on thrones alone-- In cot and court the same, Wherever woman's smile is known, Victoria's still her name.

For tho' she almost blush to reign, Tho' Love's own flowerets wreath the chain, Disguise our bondage as we will, 'Tis woman, woman, rules us still.

COME, PLAY ME THAT SIMPLE AIR AGAIN.

A BALLAD.

Come, play me that simple air again, I used so to love, in life's young day, And bring, if thou canst, the dreams that then Were wakened by that sweet lay The tender gloom its strain Shed o'er the heart and brow Grief's shadow without its pain-- Say where, where is it now?

But play me the well-known air once more, For thoughts of youth still haunt its strain Like dreams of some far, fairy sh.o.r.e We never shall see again.

Sweet air, how every note brings back Some sunny hope, some daydream bright, That, s.h.i.+ning o'er life's early track, Filled even its tears with light.

The new-found life that came With love's first echoed vow;-- The fear, the bliss, the shame-- Ah--where, where are they now?

But, still the same loved notes prolong, For sweet 'twere thus, to that old lay, In dreams of youth and love and song, To breathe life's hour away.

POEMS FROM THE EPICUREAN

(1827.)

THE VALLEY OF THE NILE.

Far as the sight can reach, beneath as clear And blue a heaven as ever blest this sphere, Gardens and pillared streets and porphyry domes And high-built temples, fit to be the homes Of mighty G.o.ds, and pyramids whose hour Outlasts all time, above the waters tower!

Then, too, the scenes of pomp and joy that make One theatre of this vast peopled lake, Where all that Love, Religion, Commerce gives Of life and motion, ever moves and lives, Here, up in the steps of temples, from the wave Ascending, in procession slow and grave, Priests in white garments go, with sacred wands And silver cymbals gleaming in their hands: While there, rich barks--fresh from those sunny tracts Far off, beyond the sounding cataracts-- Glide with their precious lading to the sea, Plumes of bright birds, rhinoceros' ivory, Gems from the isle of Meroe, and those grains Of gold, washed down by Abyssinian rains.

Here, where the waters wind into a bay Shadowy and cool, some pilgrims on their way To Sas or Bubastus, among beds Of lotos flowers that close above their heads, Push their light barks, and hid as in a bower Sing, talk, or sleep away the sultry hour, While haply, not far off, beneath a bank Of blossoming acacias, many a prank Is played in the cool current by a train Of laughing nymphs, lovely as she whose chain Around two conquerors of the world was cast; But, for a third too feeble, broke at last.

SONG OF THE TWO CUPBEARERS.

FIRST CUPBEARER.

Drink of this cup--Osiris sips The same in his halls below; And the same he gives, to cool the lips Of the dead, who downward go.

Drink of this cup--the water within Is fresh from Lethe's stream; 'Twill make the past, with all its sin, And all its pain and sorrows, seem Like a long forgotten dream; The pleasure, whose charms Are steeped in woe; The knowledge, that harms The soul to know;

The hope, that bright As the lake of the waste, Allures the sight And mocks the taste;

The love, that binds Its innocent wreath, Where the serpent winds In venom beneath!--

All that of evil or false, by thee Hath ever been known or seen, Shalt melt away in this cup, and be Forgot as it never had been!

SECOND CUPBEARER.

Drink of this cup--when Isis led Her boy of old to the beaming sky, She mingled a draught divine and said.-- "Drink of this cup, thou'lt never die!"

Thus do I say and sing to thee.

Heir of that boundless heaven on high, Though frail and fallen and lost thou be, "Drink of this cup, thou'lt never die!"