Now rest thee here.
My gondolier;
Hush, hush, for up I go,
To climb yon light
Balcony's height,
While thou keep'st watch below.
Ah! did we take for Heaven above
But half such pains as we
Take, day and night, for woman's love,
What' Angels we should be.
OH, DAYS OF YOUTH.
(FRENCH AIR.)
Oh, days of youth and joy, long clouded,
Why thus for ever haunt my view?
When in the grave your light lay shrouded,
Why did not Memory die there too?
Vainly doth hope her strain now sing me,
Telling of joys that yet remain—
No, never more can this life bring me
One joy that equals youth's sweet pain.
Dim lies the way to death before me,
Cold winds of Time blow round my brow;
Sunshine of youth! that once fell o'er me,
Where is your warmth, your glory now?
'Tis not that then no pain could sting me;
'Tis not that now no joys remain;
Oh, 'tis that life no more can bring me
One joy so sweet as that worst pain.
WHEN FIRST THAT SMILE.
(VENETIAN AIR.)
When first that smile, like sunshine, blest my sight,
Oh what a vision then came o'er me!
Long years of love, of calm and pure delight,
Seemed in that smile to pass before me.
Ne'er did the peasant dream of summer skies,
Of golden fruit and harvests springing,
With fonder hope than I of those sweet eyes,
And of the joy their light was bringing.
Where now are all those fondly-promised hours?
Ah! woman's faith is like her brightness—
Fading as fast as rainbows or day-flowers,
Or aught that's known for grace and lightness.
Short as the Persian's prayer, at close of day,
Should be each vow of Love's repeating;
Quick let him worship Beauty's precious ray—
Even while he kneels, that ray is fleeting!