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IRISH MELODIES. 83 |
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But come — if yet thy frame can borrow
One breath of joy, oh, breathe for me, And show the world, in chains and sorrow,
How sweet thy music still can be ; How gaily, ev'n mid gloom surrounding,
Thou yet canst wake at pleasure's thrill— Like Memnon's broken image sounding,
'Mid desolation tuneful still. * |
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AS SLOW OUR SHIP.
As slow our ship her foamy track
Against the wind was cleaving, Her trembling pennant still look'd back
To that dear isle 't was leaving: — So loath we part from all we love,
From all the links that bind us; So turn our hearts, as on we rove,
To those we've left behind us.
When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years
We talk, with joyous seeming,— With smiles that might as well be tears,
So faint, so sad their beaming ; While mem'ry brings us back again
Each early tie that twin'd us, Oh, sweet's the cup that circles then
To those we've left behind us!
* " Dimidio magicae resonant ubi Memnone chordae." — Juvenal, g 2 |
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