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IRISH MELODIES. |
65 |
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OH! DOUBT ME NOT.
Oh ! doubt me not — the season
Is o'er, when Folly made me rove, And now the vestal, Reason,
Shall watch the fire awak'd by Love. Altho' this heart was early blown,
And fairest hands disturb'd the tree, They only shook some blossoms down, Its fruit has all been kept for thee. Then doubt me not—the season
Is o'er when Folly made me rove, And now the vestal, Reason,
Shall watch the fire awak'd by Love.
And tho' my lute no longer
May sing of Passion's ardent spell, Yet trust me, all the stronger I feel the bliss I do not tell. The bee through many a garden roves,
And hums his lay of courtship o'er, But, when he finds the flower he loves, He settles there, and hums no more. Then doubt me not—the season
Is o'er when Folly kept me free, And now the vestal, Reason,
Shall guard the flame awak'd by thee. |
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