Page:Peterson's Magazine 1842, Volume I.pdf/54

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‘And O? the thundering presse of knightes — ~ Whenas their war eryes swell,

‘May tole from heaven an angel bright, "And rouse a fiend from hell.

‘Then mounte! then mounte, brave gallante, all, ‘And don your helmes amaine:

Deathe’s couriers, Fame aud Honor, call Us to the field againe,

‘Na shrewish teares shall fill our eye ‘When the sword-hilt’s in our band,—

Heart whole we'll part, and no whit sighe For the fayrest of the land;

Let piping swaiue, and craven wight, "Phus weape and puling crye,

i like men to Aight, ‘And hero-like to die!

My heart ia in their voyaging "ho reals where spirits be, But its mate, in such wandering,

Ts ever thee!

Rut 0, the murmur of the brook, ‘The music of the wees

‘The rose with ils sweet shamefast look, "Phe booming of the bee j

The caurse of each bright voyager Tn heaven's unmeasured sea,

Would not one heart-puise of me stir, Loved I not thee!

Not perfect, but yet beautiful. Had the poet amended one or two of the verses where tho rythm halts, these lines would have been ranked among the sweetest he

‘Verses like theve would seem to imply that the poet | ever wrote. Let us give another of his effusions on had little aympathy for tho gentler sex, and that he de- | nearly the rame theine. ‘The poet ealls it “the voice of lighted rather in the neighing of the war-horse, and the | love.” sound of the trumpets afar off in battle, than in the ahaa ahadowaieree ens andbenpe creeps music of the lute, the smiles of woman, or the low witch- ‘And twinkling stars pale vigils keep;

ing language of love. But we would form a wrong

‘When flower-cups all with dew-drops gleam, And moonshine foweth like a stream;

judgment if such should be our conclusion. That he ‘Then isthe hour ;

ingen is That hearts which love uo longer dream,— ‘was not insensible to the gentler passion, this volume ine which Jove vel Dears many evidences, Let us give a few stanzas, "That the voice of love ix a spell of power! breathing the most delicate imagory,—stanzas which ‘When shamefuced mooubeams kiss the lake, he has quaintly styled “Certain pleasaut verses to the And amorous loaves sweet music wakes lady of his heart." ‘They are musical as the song of a ‘When slumnber stoals o'er every exe,

And Dian's welf chimes drowsily §

tavrock, the singing of a woodland brook, or the harmony "Then is the hour

of unseen angels ou the midnight air,

«The murmur of the merty brook, Aa qushingly and free It wimples with ity sun-bright look, Far down yon sheltered tea, ‘Humming to every drowsy flower ‘A Jow, quaint tallaby, ' Speaks to tay spirit, at this hour, ‘OF Lovo and thee...

‘Phe music of the gay green wood, ‘When every leaf and tree

Yu coaxed by winds of gentlest mood, Po utter harinony

‘And the siaull birds that answer make ‘To tho wind's fitfal glee,

In me most blissful visions wake,

‘Of Love and thee.

The rose perks up its blushing cheek, So sonn as it can sco Along the eastern hills, one streak Of the sun's majest Laden with dewy gems, it gleams ‘A precious freight to me, For each pure drop thereon me seema A type of thee,

‘And when abroad in summer mora, 1 heat the blythe bold bee

‘Winding aloft his tiny horn, (An errant knight perdy,)

‘That winged hunter of rare sweets O'er many a fur country,

‘To me a lay of love repeaia, Ita subject—thee.

‘Aud when, in midnight hour, I note ‘The stare so pensively,

tn their wild beauty, onward float "Throagh heaven's own silunt xea:

‘That hearta which love with rapture sigh — "Phen is the hour ‘That the voice of love is a spell of power!

When surly mastiffs atint their howl, And ewatled in moonshine node the owls ‘When cottage-hearths are glimmering low, And warden cocks forget to crow 5 ‘Then ia the hour ‘That hearts fee! passion’s overflow, — ‘Then is the hour ‘That the voice of love ia

spell of power!

‘When stilly night seems earth's vast grave, Nor murinur comes from wood or wave; ‘When land and sea, in wedlock bound By silence, sleep in biivs profound ; ‘Then ia the hour ‘That hearts like living well-springs sound,— ‘Then is the hone ‘That the voice of love ia spell of power!”

And now for a “May morning Song.”

“Phe grass ia wet with shining dewe, ‘Their silver bells hang on each ee, ‘While opening flewer and bursting bud Breathe incense forth uncessin The mavis pipes in greenwood shaw, ‘The throstle glads the spreading thorn, And cheerily the blythesome lark Salutes the rosy face of morn. "Tis early prime; And hark! hark! bark! Hie mesry chime Chicrups the lark: Shirrap! urrap! be heralds in* ‘The jolly aun with matin hyran.

Come, come, iny love! and May-dewa shake Tn pailfule from each droopinig bough; ‘They'll give fresh Inatze to tie blnow, ‘Phat breaks npon thy young cheek now,

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