The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 19

TO A BOY, WITH A WATCH,

WRITTEN FOR A FRIEND

Is it not sweet, beloved youth, To rove through Erudition's bowers, And cull the golden fruits of truth, And gather Fancy's brilliant flowers?

And is it not more sweet than this, To feel thy parents' hearts approving, And pay them back in sums of bliss The dear, the endless debt of loving?

It must be so to thee, my youth; With this idea toil is lighter; This sweetens all the fruits of truth, And makes the flowers of fancy brighter.

The little gift we send thee, boy, May sometimes teach thy soul to ponder, If indolence or siren joy Should ever tempt that soul to wander.

'Twill tell thee that the winged day Can, ne'er be chain'd by man's endeavor; That life and time shall fade away, While heaven and virtue bloom forever!

SONG.

If I swear by that eye, you'll allow, Its look is so s.h.i.+fting and new, That the oath I might take on it now The very next glance would undo.

Those babies that nestle so sly Such thousands of arrows have got, That an oath, on the glance of an eye Such as yours, may be off in a shot.

Should I swear by the dew on your lip, Though each moment the treasure renews, If my constancy wishes to trip, I may kiss off the oath when I choose.

Or a sigh may disperse from that flower; Both the dew and the oath that are there; And I'd make a new vow every hour, To lose them so sweetly in air.

But clear up the heaven of your brow, Nor fancy my faith is a feather; On my heart I will pledge you my vow, And they both must be broken together!

TO .......

Remember him thou leavest behind, Whose heart is warmly bound to thee, Close as the tenderest links can bind A heart as warm as heart can be.

Oh! I had long in freedom roved, Though many seemed my soul to snare; 'Twas pa.s.sion when I thought I loved, 'Twas fancy when I thought them fair.

Even she, my muse's early theme, Beguiled me only while she warmed; Twas young desire that fed the dream, And reason broke what pa.s.sion formed.

But thou-ah! better had it been If I had still in freedom roved, If I had ne'er thy beauties seen, For then I never should have loved.

Then all the pain which lovers feel Had never to this heart been known; But then, the joys that lovers steal, Should _they_ have ever been my own?

Oh! trust me, when I swear thee this, Dearest! the pain of loving thee, The very pain is sweeter bliss Than pa.s.sion's wildest ecstasy.

That little cage I would not part, In which my soul is prisoned now, For the most light and winged heart That wantons on the pa.s.sing vow.

Still, my beloved! still keep in mind, However far removed from me, That there is one thou leavest behind, Whose heart respires for only thee!

And though ungenial ties have bound Thy fate unto another's care, That arm, which clasps thy bosom round, Cannot confine the heart that's there.

No, no! that heart is only mine By ties all other ties above, For I have wed it at a shrine Where we have had no priest but Love.

SONG.

When Time who steals our years away Shall steal our pleasures too, The memory of the past will stay And half our joys renew, Then, Julia, when thy beauty's flower Shall feel the wintry air, Remembrance will recall the hour When thou alone wert fair.

Then talk no more of future gloom; Our joys shall always last; For Hope shall brighten days to come, And Memory gild the past.

Come, Chloe, fill the genial bowl, I drink to Love and thee: Thou never canst decay in soul, Thou'lt still be young for me.

And as thy; lips the tear-drop chase, Which on my cheek they find, So hope shall steal away the trace That sorrow leaves behind.

Then fill the bowl--away with gloom!

Our joys shall always last; For Hope shall brighten days to come, And Memory gild the past.

But mark, at thought of future years When love shall lose its soul, My Chloe drops her timid tears, They mingle with my bowl.

How like this bowl of wine, my fair, Our loving life shall fleet; Though tears may sometimes mingle there, The draught will still be sweet.

Then fill the cup--away with gloom!

Our joys shall always last; For Hope will brighten days to come, And Memory gild the past.

SONG.

Have you not seen the timid tear, Steal trembling from mine eye?

Have you not marked the flush of fear, Or caught the murmured sigh?

And can you think my love is chill, Nor fixt on you alone?

And can you rend, by doubting still, A heart so much your own?

To you my soul's affections move, Devoutly, warmly true; My life has been a task of love, One long, long thought of you.