Part 469 (1/2)
Arise, then, thou sunlight of morning, and fling O'er plain and o'er forest thy purple-dyed beams!
Thou twilight of evening, all noiselessly sing In melody soft to the world as it dreams!
Ah, sunlight of morning, to me thou but flingest Thy purple-dyed beams o'er the grave of the past!
Ah, twilight of evening, thy strains thou but singest To one whose deep slumbers forever must last!
TO MINNA.
Do I dream? can I trust to my eye?
My sight sure some vapor must cover?
Or, there, did my Minna pa.s.s by-- My Minna--and knew not her lover?
On the arm of the c.o.xcomb she crossed, Well the fan might its zephyr bestow; Herself in her vanity lost, That wanton my Minna?--Ah, no!
In the gifts of my love she was dressed, My plumes o'er her summer hat quiver; The ribbons that flaunt in her breast Might bid her--remember the giver!
And still do they bloom on thy bosom, The flowerets I gathered for thee!
Still as fresh is the leaf of each blossom, 'Tis the heart that has faded from me!
Go and take, then, the incense they tender; Go, the one that adored thee forget!
Go, thy charms to the feigner surrender, In my scorn is my comforter yet!
Go, for thee with what trust and belief There beat not ign.o.bly a heart That has strength yet to strive with the grief To have wors.h.i.+pped the trifler thou art!
Thy beauty thy heart hath betrayed-- Thy beauty--shame, Minna, to thee!
To-morrow its glory will fade, And its roses all withered will be!
The swallows that swarm in the sun Will fly when the north winds awaken, The false ones thine autumn will shun, For whom thou the true hast forsaken!
'Mid the wrecks of the charms in December, I see thee alone in decay, And each spring shall but bid thee remember How brief for thyself was the May!
Then they who so wantonly flock To the rapture thy kiss can impart, Shall scoff at thy winter, and mock Thy beauty as wrecked as thy heart!
Thy beauty thy heart hath betrayed-- Thy beauty--shame, Minna, to thee To-morrow its glory will fade-- And its roses all withered will be!
O, what scorn for thy desolate years Shall I feel!--G.o.d forbid it in me!
How bitter will then be the tears Shed, Minna, O Minna, for thee!
THE FLOWERS.
Ye offspring of the morning sun, Ye flowers that deck the smiling plain, Your lives, in joy and bliss begun, In Nature's love unchanged remain.
With hues of bright and G.o.dlike splendor Sweet Flora graced your forms so tender, And clothed ye in a garb of light; Spring's lovely children weep forever, For living souls she gave ye never, And ye must dwell in endless night?
The nightingale and lark still sing In your tranced ears the bliss of love; The toying sylphs, on airy wing, Around your fragrant bosoms rove, Of yore, Dione's daughter [6] twining In garlands sweet your cup-so s.h.i.+ning, A pillow formed where love might rest!