Serenade

Nay, lady, from thy slumbers break,

And make this darkness gay,

With looks whose brightness well might make

Of darker nights a day.

679

Edward Coate Pinkney [1802-1828]

SERENADE

HIDE, happy damask, from the stars,
What sleep enfolds behind your veil,
But open to the fairy cars

On which the dreams of midnight sail;
And let the zephyrs rise and fall
About her in the curtained gloom,

And then return to tell me all

The silken secrets of the room.

Ah! dearest! may the elves that sway
Thy fancies come from emerald plots,
Where they have dozed and dreamed all day
In hearts of blue forget-me-nots.

And one perhaps shall whisper thus:

Awake! and light the darkness, Sweet!

While thou art reveling with us,

He watches in the lonely street.

Henry Timrod [1829-1867]

SERENADE

From "The Spanish Student "

STARS of the summer night!

Far in yon azure deeps,

Hide, hide your golden light!

She sleeps!

My lady sleeps!

Sleeps!

Moon of the summer night!

Far down yon western steeps,

Sink, sink in silver light!

She sleeps!

My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!

Wind of the summer night!

Where yonder woodbine creeps,

Fold, fold thy pinions light!

She sleeps!

My lady sleeps!

Sleeps!

Dreams of the summer night!
Tell her, her lover keeps

Watch! while in slumbers light

She sleeps!

My lady sleeps!

Sleeps!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [1807-1882]

"COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD"

From " Maud"

COME into the garden, Maud,

For the black bat, night, has flown, Come into the garden, Maud,

I am here at the gate alone;

And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,

And the musk of the rose is blown.

For a breeze of morning moves,

And the planet of Love is on high,

Beginning to faint in the light that she loves

On a bed of daffodil sky,

To faint in the light of the sun she loves,

To faint in his light, and to die.

All night have the roses heard

The flute, violin, bassoon;

All night has the casement jessamine stirred
To the dancers dancing in tune;

Till a silence fell with the waking bird,

And a hush with the setting moon.

"Come Into the Garden, Maud" 681

I said to the lily, "There is but one

With whom she has heart to be gay.
When will the dancers leave her alone?
She is weary of dance and play."
Now half to the setting moon are gone,
And half to the rising day;

Low on the sand and loud on the stone
The last wheel echoes away.

I said to the rose, "The brief night goes
In babble and revel and wine.

O young lord-lover, what sighs are those,
For one that will never be thine?

But mine, but mine," so I sware to the rose,
"For ever and ever, mine.”

And the soul of the rose went into my blood,

As the music clashed in the hall:

And long by the garden lake I stood,

For I heard your rivulet fall

From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood,

Our wood, that is dearer than all;

From the meadow your walks have left so sweet

That whenever a March-wind sighs

He sets the jewel-print of your feet

In violets blue as your eyes,

To the woody hollows in which we meet
And the valleys of Paradise.

The slender acacia would not shake
One long milk-bloom on the tree;
The white lake-blossom fell into the lake
As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;
But the rose was awake all night for your sake,
Knowing your promise to me;

The lilies and roses were all awake,

They sighed for the dawn and thee.

Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,
Come hither, the dances are done,

In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls,
Queen lily and rose in one;

Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls,

To the flowers, and be their sun.

There has fallen a splendid tear

From the passion-flower at the gate.
She is coming, my dove, my dear;
She is coming, my life, my fate;

The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near";
And the white rose weeps, "She is late";
The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear";
And the lily whispers, "I wait."

She is coming, my own, my sweet;
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
Were it earth in an carthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead;

Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red.

Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

AT HER WINDOW

Ah, Minstrel, how strange is
The carol you sing!

Let Psyche, who ranges
The garden of spring,
Remember the changes
December will bring.

BEATING Heart! we come again
Where my Love reposes:
This is Mabel's window-pane;
These are Mabel's roses.

Is she nested? Does she kneel
In the twilight stilly,

Lily clad from throat to heel,
She, my virgin Lily?

Bedouin Song

Soon the wan, the wistful stars,
Fading, will forsake her;
Elves of light, on beamy bars,
Whisper then, and wake her.

Let this friendly pebble plead
At her flowery grating;
If she hear me will she heed?
Mabel, I am waiting.

Mabel will be decked anon,

Zoned in bride's apparel; Happy zone! Oh hark to yon Passion-shaken carol!

Sing thy song, thou tranced thrush,
Pipe thy best, thy clearest;-
Hush, her lattice moves, oh hush-

Dearest Mabel !-dearest.

683

Frederick Locker-Lampson [1821-1895]

BEDOUIN SONG

FROM the Desert I come to thee
On a stallion shod with fire;
And the winds are left behind

In the speed of my desire,
Under thy window I stand,

And the midnight hears my cry;

I love thee, I love but thee,
With a love that shall not die

Till the sun grows cold,

And the stars are old,

And the leaves of the Judgment
Book unfold!

Look from thy window and see

My passion and my pain;

I lie on the sands below,
And I faint in thy disdain.