"Love has a tongue which dare not praise, But language in its silence dwells Love has an eye that cannot gaze, Yet with a glance its secret tells. "The lip, the cheek, have magic speech, A blush may plead-a smile persuade; But hearts are dumb, and none can teach The rebel tongue to lend them aid. "And charity, from mortal sight, Retires its busy glance to shun; She walks in shadow, but has light From him whose eye is in the sun. "She loves the valley, and her rest Is the world-wearied heart's recess; Smiling, the lady stoop'd to fill Softly she smiled, and meekly spoke,- "Fair lady, thou hast taught me well How happiness on earth may dwell. "It is when bending by the grave Of him who stung my trusting heart, And rent away its dearest part, I learn to bless, forgive, and save! "Thou know'st me now; but never yet Did hate the cup of peace repay : A dagger's hilt would ill befit The hand which thus on thine I lay. "I loved thee when no eye but mine "Thy husband wrong'd me,-I am he Whose vengeance laid thy banners low; But never to a nobler foe Did holy earth give sepulchre. "They said thy monarch's heart was chill.— But, lady! look on mine, and learn, How deep beneath a frozen hill A never-dying flame may burn. "Fair Agnes! Iceland springs are soft,- Beams fairest in the wintry night. Lady! yon pale round moon shall wane, A palmer at thy gate shall stand.— Thy boon may bless a monarch's hand. Ere the new moon's silver horn was bow'd, High in her hall a goblet shone, Of the onyx pale and the purple stone; The heart-worn pilgrim's sorrows sank But he who would its sweetness prove, V. SONNET TO THERE, on the streamlet's bank-her grassy bed- Half veils her red cheek from the burning skies; That visit such a frame when sleep has sealed Its mortal sense, and left the immortal free! Yet visions more divine thou canst not see, Than the real bliss, to mortal sense reveal'd, That raps my soul while gazing thus on thee. Königsberg, July 25, 1817. STANZAS. WHILE thou at eventide art roaming When sails the moon above the mountains, And cloudless skies are purely blue, And sparkle in the light the fountains, And darker frowns the lonely yew,— When wakes the dawn upon thy dwelling, Muse for that hour to thought is dear, To me through every season dearest ; Alone, in wood, by shore, at sea, CARLISLE YETTS. WHITE was the rose in his gay bonnet, His lang lang hair in yellow hanks Waved o'er his cheeks sae sweet and ruddie; But now they wave o'er Carlisle yetts In dripping ringlets clotting bloodie. My father's blood's in that flower tap, When I first cam by merry Carlisle, There's ae drap of bluid atween my breasts, The tane I'll ne'er wash, and the tither ne'er kame, Wae wae upon that cruel heart, Wae wae upon that hand sae bludie, Which feasts in our richest Scottish bluid, And makes sae mony a doleful widow! |