The Poems and Verses of Charles Dickens - LightNovelsOnl.com
You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.
_Lucy._ Brother dear, I obey.
_Squire._ I restore.
_Young Benson._ Hence away!
_Young Benson,_ } Let us leave.
_Rose, and Lucy._ }
_Lucy._ He swears it, dear brother.
_Squire._ I swear it.
_Young Benson._ Away!
_Squire._ I swear it.
_Young Benson._ You swear to deceive.
_Squire._ Hear me, when I swear that the farm is your own Through all changes Fortune may make.
_Lucy and_ { Hear him, when he swears that the farm is our own _Rose._ { Through all changes Fortune may make.
_Young Benson._ Hear him swear, hear him swear, that the farm is our own Through all changes Fortune may make.
_Squire._ The base charge of falsehood I never have known, This promise I never will break.
_Lucy and_ { The base charge of falsehood he never has known, _Rose._ { This promise he never will break.
_Young Benson._ The base charge of falsehood he often has known, This promise he surely will break.
SQUIRE NORTON'S SONG
There's a charm in Spring, when ev'rything Is bursting from the ground; When pleasant show'rs bring forth the flow'rs And all is life around.
In summer day, the fragrant hay Most sweetly scents the breeze; And all is still, save murm'ring rill, Or sound of humming bees.
Old Autumn comes;--with trusty gun In quest of birds we roam: Unerring aim, we mark the game, And proudly bear it home.
A winter's night has its delight, Well warmed to bed we go: A winter's day, we're blithe and gay, Snipe-shooting in the snow.
A country life, without the strife And noisy din of town, Is all I need, I take no heed Of splendour or renown.
And when I die, oh, let me lie Where trees above me wave; Let wild plants bloom around my tomb, My quiet country grave!
YOUNG BENSON'S SONG
My fair home is no longer mine; From its roof-tree I'm driven away.
Alas! who will tend the old vine, Which I planted in infancy's day!
The garden, the beautiful flowers, The oak with its branches on high, Dear friends of my happiest hours, Among thee I long hoped to die.
The briar, the moss, and the bramble, Along the green paths will run wild: The paths where I once used to ramble, An innocent, light-hearted child.
DUET (_The Squire and Edmunds_)
_Squire._ Listen, though I do not fear you, Listen to me, ere we part.
_Edmunds._ List to _you_! Yes, I will hear you.
_Squire._ Yours alone is Lucy's heart, I swear it, by that Heav'n above me.
_Edmunds._ What! can I believe my ears!
Could I hope that she still loves me?
_Squire._ Banish all these doubts and fears, If a love were e'er worth gaining, If love were ever fond and true, No disguise or pa.s.sion feigning, Such is her young love for you.
_Squire._ Listen, though I do not fear you, Listen to me, ere we part.
_Edmunds._ List to you! yes, I will hear you, Mine alone is her young heart.
LUCY'S SONG
How beautiful at eventide To see the twilight shadows pale, Steal o'er the landscape, far and wide, O'er stream and meadow, mound and dale.
How soft is Nature's calm repose When ev'ning skies their cool dews weep: The gentlest wind more gently blows, As if to soothe her in her sleep!
The gay morn breaks, Mists roll away, All Nature awakes To glorious day.
In my breast alone Dark shadows remain; The peace it has known It can never regain.
CHORUS
Join the dance, with step as light As ev'ry heart should be to-night; Music, shake the lofty dome, In honour of our Harvest Home.
Join the dance, and banish care, All are young, and gay, and fair; Even age has youthful grown, In honour of our Harvest Home.
Join the dance, bright faces beam, Sweet lips smile, and dark eyes gleam; All these charms have hither come, In honour of our Harvest Home.
Join the dance, with step as light, As ev'ry heart should be to-night; Music shake the lofty dome In honour of our Harvest Home.
QUINTET
No light bound Of stag or timid hare, O'er the ground Where startled herds repair, Do we prize So high, or hold so dear, As the eyes That light our pleasures here.
No cool breeze That gently plays by night, O'er calm seas, Whose waters glisten bright; No soft moan That sighs across the lea, Harvest Home, Is half so sweet as thee!
