Shall we know each other's eyes, And the thoughts that in them lay, Oh! if this may be So, "Passing away?" Speed, speed thou closing day! How blest, from earth's vain show THOU that hast loved so long and well The vale's deep quiet streams, Where the pure water-lilies dwell, Shedding forth tender gleams; And o'er the pool the May-fly's wing Glances in golden eves of spring. Oh! lone and lovely haunts are thine, The gloom of alder-boughs; This, and the following poem, were originally written for a work entitled Death's Doings, edited by Mr Alaric Watts. THE ANGLER. And in the midst, a richer hue, One gliding vein of heaven's own blue. And there but low sweet sounds are heard The whisper of the reed, The plashing trout, the rustling bird, Yet, through the murmuring osiers near, 'Tis not the stag, that comes to lave, The air is fill'd with summer's breath, 155 The young flowers laugh-yet look! 'tis death! But if, where silvery currents rove, sage, Thy heart, grown still and That shine o'er nature's page; If holy thoughts thy guests have been, Then, lover of the silent hour, By deep lone waters past, Thence hast thou drawn a faith, a power, And, wont on brighter worlds to dwell, DEATH AND THE WARRIOR. "Ay, warrior, arm! and wear thy plume "Bid thy soul's love farewell, young chief— Bid her a long farewell! Like the morning's dew shall pass that griefThou comest with me to dwell! "Thy bark may rush through the foaming deep Thy steed o'er the breezy hill; But they bear thee on to a place of sleep, "Was the voice I heard, thy voice, oh Death! And is thy day so near? Then on the field shall my life's last breath Mingle with victory's cheer! “Banners shall float, with the trumpet's note, Above me as I die! And the palm-tree wave o'er my noble grave, 66 High hearts shall burn in the royal hall, And the eyes I love shall weep my fall,— SONG FOR AIR BY HUMMEL. "Warrior! thou bear'st a haughty heart, But I can bend its pride! 157 How should'st thou know that thy soul will part In the hour of victory's tide? “It may be far from thy steel-clad bands, It may be lone on the desert sands, "It may be deep amidst heavy chains, I have slow dull steps and lingering pains, "Death, Death! I go to a doom unblest, But the Cross is bound upon my breast, "Sound, clarion, sound!-for my vows are given To the cause of the holy shrine; I bow my soul to the will of Heaven, SONG FOR AIR BY HUMMEL. OH! if thou wilt not give thine heart, For if in thine I have no part, Why should mine dwell with thee? * Yet no! this mournful love of mine, Let me but dream 'twill win me thine, Can aught so fond, so faithful, live TO THE MEMORY OF LORD CHARLES MURRAY, SON OF THE DUKE OF ATHOLL, WHO DIED IN THE CAUSE, "Time cannot teach forgetfulness, BYRON. THOU should'st have slept beneath the stately pines, Yet to thy name a noble rite was given, Banner and dirge met proudly o'er thy grave, * The first verse of this song is a literal translation from the German. |