The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 90

(SAVOYARD AIR.)

Oft, when the watching stars grow pale, And round me sleeps the moonlight scene, To hear a flute through yonder vale I from my cas.e.m.e.nt lean.

"Come, come, my love!" each note then seems to say, "Oh, come, my love! the night wears fast away!"

Never to mortal ear Could words, tho' warm they be, Speak Pa.s.sion's language half so clear As do those notes to me!

Then quick my own light lute I seek, And strike the chords with loudest swell; And, tho' they naught to others speak, _He_ knows their language well.

"I come, my love!" each note then seems to say, "I come, my love!--thine, thine till break of day."

Oh, weak the power of words, The hues of painting dim Compared to what those simple chords Then say and paint to him!

WHEN THE FIRST SUMMER BEE.

(GERMAN AIR.)

When the first summer bee O'er the young rose shall hover, Then, like that gay rover, I'll come to thee.

He to flowers, I to lips, full of sweets to the brim-- What a meeting, what a meeting for me and for him!

When the first summer bee, etc.

Then, to every bright tree In the garden he'll wander; While I, oh, much fonder, Will stay with thee.

In search of new sweetness thro' thousands he'll run, While I find the sweetness of thousands in one.

Then, to every bright tree, etc.

THO' 'TIS ALL BUT A DREAM.

(FRENCH AIR.)

Tho' 'tis all but a dream at the best, And still, when happiest, soonest o'er, Yet, even in a dream, to be blest Is so sweet, that I ask for no more.

The bosom that opes With earliest hopes, The soonest finds those hopes untrue: As flowers that first In spring-time burst The earliest wither too!

Ay--'tis all but a dream, etc.

Tho' by friends.h.i.+p we oft are deceived, And find love's suns.h.i.+ne soon o'ercast, Yet friends.h.i.+p will still be believed.

And love trusted on to the last.

The web 'mong the leaves The spider weaves Is like the charm Hope hangs o'er men; Tho' often she sees 'Tis broke by the breeze, She spins the bright tissue again.

Ay--'tis all but a dream, etc.

WHEN THE WINE-CUP IS SMILING.

(ITALIAN AIR.)

When the wine-cup is smiling before us, And we pledge round to hearts that are true, boy, true, Then the sky of this life opens o'er us, And Heaven gives a glimpse of its blue.

Talk of Adam in Eden reclining, We are better, far better off thus, boy, thus; For _him_ but _two_ bright eyes were s.h.i.+ning-- See, what numbers are sparkling for us!

When on _one_ side the grape-juice is dancing, While on t'other a blue eye beams, boy, beams, 'Tis enough, 'twixt the wine and the glancing, To disturb even a saint from his dreams.

Yet, tho' life like a river is flowing, I care not how fast it goes on, boy, on, So the grape on its bank is still growing, And Love lights the waves as they run.

WHERE SHALL WE BURY OUR SHAME?

(NEAPOLITAN AIR.)

Where shall we bury our shame?

Where, in what desolate place, Hide the last wreck of a name Broken and stained by disgrace?

Death may dissever the chain, Oppression will cease when we're gone; But the dishonor, the stain, Die as we may, will live on.

Was it for this we sent out Liberty's cry from our sh.o.r.e?

Was it for this that her shout Thrilled to the world's very core?

Thus to live cowards and slaves!-- Oh, ye free hearts that lie dead, Do you not, even in your graves, Shudder, as o'er you we tread?

NE'ER TALK OF WISDOM'S GLOOMY SCHOOLS.

(MAHRATTA AIR.)

Ne'er talk of Wisdom's gloomy schools; Give me the sage who's able To draw his moral thoughts and rules From the study of the table;-- Who learns how lightly, fleetly pa.s.s This world and all that's in it.

From the b.u.mper that but crowns his gla.s.s, And is gone again next minute!

The diamond sleeps within the mine, The pearl beneath the water; While Truth, more precious, dwells in wine.

The grape's own rosy daughter.

And none can prize her charms like him, Oh, none like him obtain her, Who thus can, like Leander, swim Thro' sparkling floods to gain her!