Dear Harp of my Country! farewell to thy numbers, This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine! Go, sleep with the sunshine of Fame on thy slumbers, Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine; If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover, Have throbb'd at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone; I was but as the wind passing heedlessly over, And all the wild sweetness I wak'd was thy own. XIII.-ECHO. W sweet the answer Echo makes How To music at night, When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, Yet Love hath echoes truer far, Than e'er beneath the moonlight's star, 'Tis when the sigh, in youth sincere, The sigh that's breath'd for one to hear, Breath'd back again! NATIONAL AIRS. OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT. (SCOTCH AIR.) stilly night, OFT, in the ster's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me ; Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus, in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. When I remember all The friends, so link'd together, I've seen around me fall, Like leaves in wintry weather; Who treads alone, Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed! Thus in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. LALLA ROOKH. 1817 THOMAS MOORE. I. PARADISE AND THE PERI. I. NE morn a Peri at the gate ONE Of Eden stood, disconsolate; And as she listen'd to the Springs Of Life within, like music flowing, And caught the light upon her wings Through the half-open portal glowing, She wept to think her recreant race Should e'er have lost that glorious place! "How happy!" exclaim'd this child of air, "Are the holy Spirits who wander there, 'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fali; Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, And the stars themselves have flowers for me, One blossom of heaven out-blooms them all! "Though sunny the Lake of cool Cashmere, With its plane-tree Isle reflected clear, And sweetly the founts of that Valley fall; Though bright are the waters of SING-SU-HAY, And the golden floods that thitherward stray, Yet-oh, 'tis only the Blest can say, How the waters of Heaven outshine them all! "Go, wing thy flight from star to star, From world to luminous world, as far As the universe spreads its flaming wall: The glorious Angel, who was keeping From Eden's fountain, when it lies "Nymph of a fair, but erring line!" Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin 'Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in!" Rapidly as comets run To th' embraces of the Sun ;- And, lighted earthward by a glance But whither shall the Spirit go To find this gift for Heav'n ?-"I know - 2 I know where the Isles of Perfume are While thus she mus'd, her pinions fann'd But crimson now her rivers ran With human blood-the smell of death Came reeking from those spicy bowers, And man, the sacrifice of man, Mingled his taint with every breath Upwafted from the innocent flowers! Land of the Sun! what fool invades Thy Pagods and thy pillar'd shades— |