THE MINSTREL'S SONG IN ELLA. See! the white moon shines on high! Whiter than the evening cloud. Here, upon my true-love's grave, Nor one holy saint to save All the sorrows of a maid. With my hands I'll bind the briers, Come, with acorn-cup and thorn! Life and all its good I scorn: Dance by night, or feast by day! My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow tree. Water-witches, crowned with reytes, Bear me to your deadly tide! I die! I come! My true-love waits! Thus the damsel spake - and died. THOMAS CHATTERTON. I GIVE MY SOLDIER-BOY A BLADE. I GIVE my soldier-boy a blade, In fair Damascus fashioned well; I know not; but I hope to know Cool, calm, and clear, the lucid flood Be thou whene'er it sees the sun : I give my soldier-boy a blade. The eye which marked its peerless edge, Are gone, with all their flame and noise; WILLIAM MAGINN. THE MAHOGANY TREE. CHRISTMAS is here: Little care we; Little we fear Weather without, Sheltered about The Mahogany Tree. Once on the boughs Here we carouse, Perched round the stem Of the jolly old tree. Here let us sport, Laughter and wit THE MAHOGANY TREE. Life is but short; Round the old tree. Evenings we knew Faces we miss, Pleasant to see. Kind hearts and true, Gentle and just, Peace to your dust! We sing round the tree. Care, like a dun, Drink, every one; Drain we the cup: In the Red Sea. Mantle it up; Empty it yet; Let us forget, Round the old tree. THE GRACE OF SIMPLICITY Sorrows, begone! Duns and their bills, Bid we to flee. Come with the dawn, Blue-devil sprite! Leave us to-night, Round the old tree! WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. THE GRACE OF SIMPLICITY. STILL to be neat, still to be drest Give me a look, give me a face, They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. BEN JONSON. |