THE ANGEL'S WHISPER. SAMUEL LOVER. A baby was sleeping, Its mother was weeping, For her husband was far on the wild raging sea; And the tempest was swelling Round the fisherman's dwelling, And she cried, to me! Derinot, darling! Oh, come back Her beads while she number'd The baby still slumber'd, And smiled in her face as she bended her knee. 'Oh, bless'd be that warning, My child, thy sleep adorning For I know that the angels are whispering with thee. And while they are keeping Bright watch o'er thy sleeping, Oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me And say thou would'st rather They'd watch o'er thy father, For I know that the angels are whispering with thee.' The dawn of the morning Saw Dermot returning, And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see; And closely caressing Her child with a blessing, Said, I knew that the angels were whispering with thee.' THE RING AND THE WINDING SHEET. SAMUEL LOVER. Why sought you not the silent bow'r, Say, does that heart beat colder now Oh! tell me, truly tell Than when you kiss'd my burning brow, When last you said farewell?' As late my taper I illumed, And trimm'd the flame with care, Oh, say, was this foreboding truth, And wilt thou break thy vow, And wilt thou blight my opening youth? And must I must I now Meet death's embrace for that chaste kiss, That holy kiss you vow'd? And must I for my bridal dress Be mantled in the shroud? A SERENADE. BARRY CORNWALL. Awake!-the starry midnight hour Look forth, my love, for Love's sweet sake! Awake!-soft dews will soon arise From daisied mead, and thorny brake; Then, sweet, uncloud those eastern eyes, And like the tender morning break! Awake! awake! Dawn forth, my love, for Love's sweet sake. Awake!-within the musk-rose bower I watch, pale flower of love, for thee: Ah, come, and shew the starry hour What wealth of love thou hid'st from me! Shew all thy love, for Love's sweet sake! Awake!-ne'er heed, though listening night And bid the world, and me, rejoice! She comes, at last, for Love's sweet sake! INDIAN LOVE. BARRY CORNWALL. Tell me not that thou dost love me, Hast thou (thou from kings descended) Go,-and for thy father's glory, Wed the blood that's pure and free: "Tis enough to gild my story, That I once was loved by thee! MARIAN. BARRY CORNWALL. Spirit of the summer breeze! Come and fawn about her hair! Kiss the fringes of her eyes! Ask her why she looks so fair, When she heedeth not my sighs? Tell her, murmuring summer air, IS MY LOVER ON THE SEA? BARRY CORNWALL. Is my lover on the sea, Sailing east or sailing west? Nightly ocean, gentle be, Rock him into rest! Let no angry wind arise, Nor a wave with whitened crest: All be gentle as his eyes When he is caressed! Bear him (as the breeze above Bears the bird unto its nest,) Here, unto his home of love, And there bid him rest! |