MY LOVE SONG
Written by 'Sir Tollemache Sinclair.
Oh! would'st thou but love me, my dearest I And echo my rapturous sigh, To my heart thou'dst ever be nearest.
And sympathy would bei^ our tie!
Thy kiss would give lif» a new savour. But leave me still longing for more.
Ah ! grant me the joy of thy favour, To the summit of bliss let me soar.
Let others with buds be delighted, Which droop off and fade on the stalk, Give me the ripe rose not yet blighted, Which never my fond dreams can balk.
While some love the blush which Morn's showing, And Spring's tender green on the lea, Be mine the rich sunset, warm, glowing. Give summer's full radiance to me.
The glance from thine eyes is more burning Than e'en the fierce rays of the Sun, And each hour I feel as if learning Some new power in thy charms just begun. Thy voice, like sweet music unsating.
Might revive me if laid with the dead. Its notes, chords of my love awaiting, Leave no phase of meaning unsaid.
Thy form, which excels that of Juno, , Excites my desires with new zest.
Thy beauties, or such as I do know, Make me long to discover the rest.
Thy touch, with a speed swift as lightning. Pervades my whole frame with a shock, The current electric then heightening All the stores of my heart does unlock. Thy breath e'en the perfume surpasses Of roses or jessamine sweet ; Each mirror with joy thy form glasses.
Love's first fruits I lay at thy feet. Thy heart's pulses like a great ocean Of sympathy's ardours partake, The charm of thy voice's emotion Proves the passion of woman awake.
Thy waist which I long to be clasping. The zone of a Venus would fit.
From thy dear lips a kiss I'd be grasping, Thy neck like the swan's is well knit. I envy the amorous breezes, Which thy neck kiss and tresses can't spare, And who can resist whom it seizes, Thy beauty which draws by each hair.
Thy tiny ears, eager to listen, The moans of distress always hear ; Thy soft eyes with tears often glisten, I When misery's traces appear.
Thy hands and feet which none can equal. Thy slim waist which fain I would snatch, Thy slight tapered fingers, fit sequel.
Not Helen of Troy could e'er match.
Thy step so majestic in essence, A poem of motion does make, Were I blind and thou silent, thy presence I'd feel and my love would awake.
Thy wit, like the diamond, gUtters, Great joy in thy bright eye appears.
LARUES ET SOURIRES 407
Thy pathos consoles, ne'er embitters.
Like music come down from the spheres.
Thy charms which alone can delight me,
Unused like steel rusted, decay,
Whilst those blissful joys which invite me,
Gleam like swords flashed in battle array.
Thy failings to goodness are leaning,
Than my merits thy faults are more dear,
From thee none could me be weaning,
Thou'rt my angel ah ! would thou wert near.
I'd seize the joys which now flow past me.
On the stream of my life towards Death's shore.
Do not spurn my devotion nor cast me
From thine heart, think of blest days of yore.
Like a miser I gloat o'er the treasure,
Which in thy form's casket's preserved,
Were thine eyes set in heaven e'en at leisure,
The stars then would scarce be obsened.
The Sun's rays vhich cheer midst our praises,
Desert us with nightfall or storm,
The Moon, so inconstant in phases,
Coldly silvers, but cannot us warm.
But the star we in times past selected
To gaze on when fate did us rend,
Shines where my fond eyes are directed,
May I hope there thy looks often tend ?
As the burning glass when it's adjusted.
From the sun's rays brings fire which destroys,
So the glance from thine eyes ne'er distrusted.
Sets my heart aflame with ardent joys.
The Moon looks on brooks without number,
Each brook sees but one beaming Moon,
And so whilst adorers thee cumber,
I seek thy love as my sole boon.
I fancy I see thee at Yule time *,
Beneath the green mistletoe bough.
How I wish that again it were school time,
And love's lesson thou'dst teach to me now.
In my dreams I oft think I behold thee,
Thy head nestled on my fond breast.
If ne'er in my arms I'll enfold thee,
I'd dream on or eternally rest.
Ah! could I a moment embrace thee,
And give thee one passionate kiss,
I'd bask in those dear charms which grace thee,
And swim in an ocean of bliss.
Like the soldier in battle expiring, Like the Dolphin which yields its life o'er, Whose hues all who see are admiring.
For thee my heart's blood I would pour. As the Sunflower loves the Sun's noonlight. As the needle ne'er swerves from the pole, I think of thee by day and moonlight.
And nought thee can tear from my soul.
To allay then my passion's strong fever,
Yule time means Christmas.
108 làhmes et soukirbs
Give one drop from thy chalice so dear,
Give me that — then e'en heaven's a less lever.
And 111 find my true Paradise here.
When sorrow's sharp ari-ows oppress thee,
You'll ne'er find my sympathy vain,
By thy love if thou wilt never bless me,
Ah 1 at least let thy friendship remain !
To forget thee in vain thou may'st urge me,
But thy love not for worlds I would give,
If rejected, let oceans submerge me,
Without thee 'tis worthless to live.
Thy spells are for ever entangled
Round the innermost core of my heart,
The fibres must break if they're mangled,
Ah ! must we be ever apart?
The friend may no more be remembered,
By the mother the child be forgot,
Ere the love is extinct or surrendered.
Which ne'er to secure seems my lot.
The kiss which so oft I've been asking,
I waft thee afar on the breeze,
In thy love with delight I'd be basking,
My soul seeks thee over the seas.
Alone 'midst a city's hoarse murmur,
When I rove on the rocks by the sea,
My feelings cling round thee the firmer.
My heart still beats wildy for thee.
If perchance by sad fate I survived thee,
I, thy poet, would then break my lyre,
By tears I would vainly revive thee,
And I'd welcome my funeral pyre.
The day which gave life to thee, jewel !
Whilst all smiled in tears did thee steep.
When called hence by Death's summons cruel,
May'st thou smile whilst all round thee weep.
The king and the pauper sleep levels,
Joy ceases and grief has no sting.
But e'en when Death o'er my head revels,
My soul to my lost love would cling.
