Lays Of Ancient Virginia, And Other Poems Part 12

Now that frail and beauteous flower, Which scarce opened here below, Scattering round a heavenly sweetness, On the hearts which bled with woe; By a death which maketh living, Changed into a lovelier flower, Gives a fragrance far more lovely, Round about a deathless bower.

Oh! weep not for this, fond parents!

Though your earthly eyes be dim-- Yet--she blooms in fadeless beauty, Where the Seraphs chant their hymn; Where a heaven, serenely glorious, Bends above a paradise, Clad in tints of gayer splendor, Than our dream-land's gorgeous dyes.

Yes! she blooms in deathless beauty, In that brighter world than ours; Where the happy saints and angels, Gleam her glorious sister flowers; Where no frost, no killing tempest, E'er shall fall, or fiercely blow, But mild zephyrs, waked on roses, Round her softly come and go.

There she yet is pure and lovely As she was with us below-- And our hearts should cease to mourn her, When her G.o.d hath bade us know-- That, within that peaceful heaven, She is happier than before, And that we should strive to meet her, When, like hers, our toil is o'er.

LILLY MAY.

The fairest of our village maids, Was blue-eyed Lilly May; Her brow was decked with golden curls, Her laugh was wild and gay: And spotless as a ray of heaven, Young love within her lay.

The rose which decked the fairy vale, Near by our rural town, Showed not a deeper tint of blood, Than dyed her cheeks of down, And innocence like that of heaven, Her fair, young head did crown.

Oh Lilly May! Oh! Lilly May!

My heart was all thine own, Earth ne'er gave me a sweeter sound, Than thy low, loving tone; For we each other's first loves were, And each heard each alone!

Oh Lilly May! I curse the day That tempted me to part!

And ever haunting, strange regret To my sad soul thou art; I fear that I have deeply sinned, And broken thy true heart.

TO ELEANOR.

When Hesper shows his rosiate lamp of love, High in yon lofty arch of dewy blue; When gentle dews distilling from above, Sparkle upon the spreading gra.s.s and groves of yew-- When sinks to rest the faintly murmuring breeze, And dim and indistinct the landscape view-- Lonely I stray among the poplar trees And muse, dear Eleanor, dear love, on you.

When Luna looks upon yon mountains brown, And gilds the winding stream with silvery hue, And Silence, like a fall of whitest down, Falls where the sylphs their elfin dance renew In lonely glens and cliffs of ivy green; And human forms lie bathed in sleep's soft dew-- Silent I stray along the fairy scene, And muse, dear Eleanor, dear love, on you.

When golden streaks along the East appear, Spreading and flas.h.i.+ng o'er that sea of blue; And springs at length with aspect bright and clear, Great Sol upon the glittering world of dew-- The wakened Hours commence their wonted race, And Nature strikes her living harp anew-- Smiling I scan Creation's glorious face, And muse, dear Eleanor, dear love, on you.

THE VOW OF LOVE.

'Twas evening's hour of magic power, The sun went brightly down, And shadows fell as with a spell, Along the mountains brown.

On high the sky, with gorgeous dye, Then glittered bright and wide, And westward far, the evening star, Came trembling like a bride.

The birds did chime their drowsy rhyme, As day was getting o'er, The rippling wave, did sweetly lave The winding, pebbly sh.o.r.e.

There walked beside that crystal tide, Fair Holston's lovely stream, My lady bright, at soft twilight, In beauty's matchless gleam.

And I did walk and softly talk Unto her beauty there, And deemed that she more fair must be, Than G.o.ddess, wrought of air.

Her hand in mine--"Oh! be thou mine, Nor scorn my pleading sigh."

"Yes"--still I cried, "be thou my bride, My own, until we die!"

Now as that tide doth onward glide To reach the glittering sea, With sparkling glow, our souls will flow, To bright eternity.

DISAPPOINTMENT.

Last eve ere sleep had closed mine eyes, To me there came a dream, That when the saffron morn should rise O'er lovely hill and stream; I should behold a vision move By yonder crystal spring-- A vision of an earthly dove, With pure and blessed wing.

I thought the days of old romance, Would now return to earth; And, in that soft and placid trance, So sweet--yet not like mirth-- I saw the Dryads gently gliding Through shadowy groves of myrtle-- And Nereides their glances hiding, And Venus with her turtle.

Alas! our brightest dreams deceive!

The morning rises, bright and sweet, And every thing in nature waits Thy fairy face and form to greet; But they, alas! will wait in vain, As I, with aching heart, Whilst wrapt in other joy or pain, In other scenes, thou art.

Thus ever from our path below, Some vision lovelier far, Than Eden's bird, or glittering gem, Or beam of Beauty's star-- Glides swiftly by--and we are left To mourn the fleeting bliss, That mocks us, as we sadly thread, So dark a scene as this.

THE DREAM OF LOVE.

I dreamed last night, my lady-love, A dear, delicious dream; 'Twas not in bower or blooming grove, Nor by the sylvan stream.

'Twas in thy father's n.o.ble hall, In dreams I saw thee, lady love!

Yet 'twas no gorgeous festival, No flowers beneath--no lights above.

It was a sacred, simple scene, Thy smiling sisters gathered round, With kindly air, and gentle mien, And spoke--a magic, home-born sound!

Then thou and I, sweet lady-love!

Roved out amid the garden green, Whilst Day and Night together strove, Along the soft, romantic scene.

And then I praised the charming view-- The lofty peaks and rosiate skies-- The vallies, in their vernal hue-- The sky's still brightening, crimson dyes.

And oh! I saw thy angel smile, It smiled its lovelight all on me!

My heart was heaving high the while, And still my eyes saw nought but thee.

I took thy trembling hand in mine, Then clasped thee to my happy breast, And then those honeylips of thine My forehead with their kisses blest.

Last night I dreamed, sweet lady-love!

This dear, delicious dream; Oh! could I waking pleasures prove So sweet as those that seem.