The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 73

TO LADIES' EYES.

To Ladies' eyes around, boy, We can't refuse, we can't refuse, Tho' bright eyes so abound, boy, 'Tis hard to choose, 'tis hard to choose.

For thick as stars that lighten Yon airy bowers, yon airy bowers, The countless eyes that brighten This earth of ours, this earth of ours.

But fill the cup--where'er, boy, Our choice may fall, our choice may fall, We're sure to find Love there, boy, So drink them all! so drink them all!

Some looks there are so holy, They seem but given, they seem but given, As s.h.i.+ning beacons, solely, To light to heaven, to light to heaven.

While some--oh! ne'er believe them-- With tempting ray, with tempting ray, Would lead us (G.o.d forgive them!) The other way, the other way.

But fill the cup--where'er, boy, Our choice may fall, our choice may fall, We're sure to find Love there, boy, So drink them all! so drink them all!

In some, as in a mirror, Love seems portrayed, Love seems portrayed, But shun the flattering error, 'Tis but his shade, 'tis but his shade.

Himself has fixt his dwelling In eyes we know, in eyes we know, And lips--but this is telling-- So here they go! so here they go!

Fill up, fill up--where'er, boy, Our choice may fall, our choice may fall, We're sure to find Love there, boy, So drink them all! so drink them all!

FORGET NOT THE FIELD.

Forget not the field where they perished, The truest, the last of the brave, All gone--and the bright hope we cherished Gone with them, and quenched in their grave!

Oh! could we from death but recover Those hearts as they bounded before, In the face of high heaven to fight over That combat for freedom once more;--

Could the chain for an instant be riven Which Tyranny flung round us then, No, 'tis not in Man, nor in Heaven, To let Tyranny bind it again!

But 'tis past--and, tho' blazoned in story The name of our Victor may be, Accurst is the march of that glory Which treads o'er the hearts of the free.

Far dearer the grave or the prison, Illumed by one patriot name, Than the trophies of all, who have risen On Liberty's ruins to fame.

THEY MAY RAIL AT THIS LIFE.

They may rail at this life--from the hour I began it, I found it a life full of kindness and bliss; And, until they can show me some happier planet, More social and bright, I'll content me with this.

As long as the world has such lips and such eyes, As before me this moment enraptured I see, They may say what they will of their orbs in the skies, But this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.

In Mercury's star, where each moment can bring them New suns.h.i.+ne and wit from the fountain on high, Tho' the nymphs may have livelier poets to sing them, They've none, even there, more enamored than I.

And as long as this harp can be wakened to love, And that eye its divine inspiration shall be, They may talk as they will of their Edens above, But this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.

In that star of the west, by whose shadowy splendor, At twilight so often we've roamed thro' the dew, There are maidens, perhaps, who have bosoms as tender, And look, in their twilights, as lovely as you.

But tho' they were even more bright than the queen Of that isle they inhabit in heaven's blue sea, As I never those fair young celestials have seen, Why--this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.

As for those chilly orbs on the verge of creation, Where suns.h.i.+ne and smiles must be equally rare, Did they want a supply of cold hearts for that station, Heaven knows we have plenty on earth we could spare, Oh! think what a world we should have of it here, If the haters of peace, of affection and glee, Were to fly up to Saturn's comfortless sphere, And leave earth to such spirits as you, love, and me.

OH FOR THE SWORDS OF FORMER TIME!

Oh for the swords of former time!

Oh for the men who bore them, When armed for Right, they stood sublime, And tyrants crouched before them: When free yet, ere courts began With honors to enslave him, The best honors worn by Man Were those which Virtue gave him.

Oh for the swords, etc.

Oh for the kings who flourished then!

Oh for the pomp that crowned them, When hearts and hands of freeborn men Were all the ramparts round them.

When, safe built on bosoms true, The throne was but the centre, Round which Love a circle drew, That Treason durst not enter.

Oh for the kings who flourished then!

Oh for the pomp that crowned them, When hearts and hands of freeborn men Were all the ramparts round them!

ST. SENa.n.u.s AND THE LADY.

ST. SENa.n.u.s.[1]

"Oh! haste and leave this sacred isle, Unholy bark, ere morning smile; For on thy deck, though dark it be, A female form I see; And I have sworn this sainted sod Shall ne'er by woman's feet be trod."

THE LADY.

"Oh! Father, send not hence my bark, Thro' wintry winds and billows dark: I come with humble heart to share Thy morn and evening prayer; Nor mine the feet, oh! holy Saint, The brightness of thy sod to taint."

The Lady's prayer Sena.n.u.s spurned; The winds blew fresh, the bark returned; But legends hint, that had the maid Till morning's light delayed, And given the saint one rosy smile, She ne'er had left his lonely isle.

[1] In a metrical life of St. Sena.n.u.s, which is taken from an old Kilkenny MS., and may be found among the "_Acta Sanctorum Hiberniae_," we are told of his flight to the island of Scattery, and his resolution not to admit any woman of the party; he refused to receive even a sister saint, St.

Cannera, whom an angel had taken to the island for the express purpose of introducing her to him.