THE LOVERS.
1 Har. 'Tis midnight dark: 'tis silence deep,
My father's house is hushed in sleep;
In dreams the lover meets his bride,
She sees her lover at her side;
The mourner's voice is now suppressed,
A while the weary are at rest:
'Tis midnight dark; 'tis silence deep;
I only wake, and wake to weep.
2 The window's drawn, the ladder waits,
I spy no watchman at the gates;
No tread re-echoes through the hall,
No shadow moves along the wall.
I am alone. 'Tis dreary night,
Oh, come, thou partner of my flight!
Shield me from darkness, from alarms;
Oh, take me trembling to thine arms!
3 The dog howls dismal in the heath,
The raven croaks the dirge of death;
Ah me! disaster's in the sound!
The terrors of the night are round;
A sad mischance my fears forebode,
The demon of the dark's abroad,
And lures, with apparition dire,
The night-struck man through flood and fire.
4 The owlet screams ill-boding sounds,
The spirit walks unholy rounds;
The wizard's hour eclipsing rolls;
The shades of hell usurp the poles;
The moon retires; the heaven departs.
From opening earth a spectre starts:
My spirit dies—Away, my fears!
My love, my life, my lord, appears!
5 Hen. I come, I come, my love! my life!
And, nature's dearest name, my wife!
Long have I loved thee; long have sought:
And dangers braved, and battles fought;
In this embrace our evils end;
From this our better days ascend;
The year of suffering now is o'er,
At last we meet to part no more!
6 My lovely bride! my consort, come!
The rapid chariot rolls thee home.
Har. I fear to go——I dare not stay.
Look back.——I dare not look that way.
Hen. No evil ever shall betide
My love, while I am at her side.
Lo! thy protector and thy friend,
The arms that fold thee will defend.
7 Har. Still beats my bosom with alarms:
I tremble while I'm in thy arms!
What will impassioned lovers do?
What have I done—to follow you?
I leave a father torn with fears;
I leave a mother bathed in tears;
A brother, girding on his sword,
Against my life, against my lord.
8 Now, without father, mother, friend,
On thee my future days depend;
Wilt thou, for ever true to love,
A father, mother, brother, prove?
O Henry!——to thy arms I fall,
My friend! my husband! and my all!
Alas! what hazards may I run?
Shouldst thou forsake me—I'm undone.
9 Hen. My Harriet, dissipate thy fears,
And let a husband wipe thy tears;
For ever joined our fates combine,
And I am yours, and you are mine.
The fires the firmament that rend,
On this devoted head descend,
If e'er in thought from thee I rove,
Or love thee less than now I love!