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IRISH MELODIES. |
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Love stood near the Novice and listen'd,
And Love is no novice in taking a hint; His laughing blue eyes soon with piety glisten'd; His rosy wing turn'd to heaven's own tint. " Who would have thought," the urchin cries, " That Love could so well, so gravely disguise " His wandering wings, and wounding eyes ? "
Love now warms thee, waking and sleeping, Young Novice, to him all thy orisons rise. He tinges the heavenly fount with his weeping, He brightens the censer's flame with his sighs. Love is the saint enshrin'd in thy breast, And angels themselves would admit such a guest, If he came to them cloth'd in Piety's vest. |
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THIS LIFE IS ALL CHEQUER'D WITH PLEASURES AND WOES.
This life is all chequer'd with pleasures and woes,
That chase one another like waves of the deep, Each brightly or darkly, as onward it flows,
Eeflecting our eyes, as they sparkle or weep. So closely our whims on our miseries tread,
That the laugh is awak'd ere the tear can be dried; And, as fast as the rain-drop of Pity is shed,
The goose-plumage of Folly can turn it aside. But pledge me the cup — if existence would cloy,
With hearts ever happy, and heads ever wise, Be ours the light Sorrow, half-sister to Joy,
And the light brilliant Folly that flashes and dies. |
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