BARCAROLE. COME! speed away, the breeze grows louder, The waves like steeds their manes fling prouder, The black storm rides, dark waves grow pale! Afar! we hear the thunder sounding, Fear not! although the billow springing, 'Mid tempest loud should kiss the cloud, We, like the white bird o'er us winging, Will not be bowed, but meet it proud,— Behold! the haven swift we're gaining, Which wooes each guest to give him rest, And soon fond eyes will fast be raining, Of maids close pressed to lover's breast! LUTE AND LOVE. A SONG. COME let us sing- But half its songs hath spoken, Love's golden bowl Lies by the well unbroken; Then seize the lute, Nor deem Mirth's fruit The apples of Gomorrah, Since Joy and Bliss The tear drops kiss From off the cheek of Sorrow. The day but shows Who live amid repining, Nor night so dark But some bright spark In shade will yet be shining; But bring the rose, The Spring-time's scarlet token: Then let us sing The silver string And golden bowl unbroken. To Love and Song Is but to change To heaven's brighter vision; While He above Will bless the love And words our lips have spoken, And we shall sing When silver string And golden bowl lie broken! BARCAROLE, COME when the daylight is dying, On the face of the deep, And flash in our wake as we're flying; When soft the evening zephyr swells, And wild waves break o'er sands and shells. Chorus-" Come when," &c. Come when the darkness is paling, Come when the Moon is unveiling, Our songs shall illume All the shadowy gloom, And ring thro' the air as we're sailing- Chorus "Come when," &c. |