Her lips were red; and one was thin, Compared to that was next her chin.
Some bee had stung it newly; But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, I durst no more upon them gaze, Than on the sun in July.
Her mouth so small, when she does speak, Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break, That they might passage get;
But she so handled still the matter, They came as good as ours, or better, And are not spent a whit.
HEBREW WEDDING.
To the sound of timbrels sweet Moving slow our solemn feet, We have borne thee on the road To the virgin's blest abode; With thy yellow torches gleaming, And thy scarlet mantle streaming, And the canopy above Swaying as we slowly move.
Thou hast left the joyous feast,
And the mirth and wine have ceased; And now we set thee down before
The jealously unclosing door, That the favored youth admits Where the veiled virgin sits In the bliss of maiden fear, Waiting our soft tread to hear,
And the music's brisker din At the bridegroom's entering in, Entering in, a welcome guest, To the chamber of his rest.
CHORUS OF MAIDENS.
Now the jocund song is thine, Bride of David's kingly line; How thy dove-like bosom trembleth, And thy shrouded eye resembleth Violets, when the dews of eve A moist and tremulous glitter leave
On the bashful sealéd lid ! Close within the bride-veil hid, Motionless thou sitt'st and mute; Save that at the soft salute Of each entering maiden friend, Thou dost rise and softly bend.
Hark! a brisker, merrier glee !
The door unfolds, 't is he! 't is he! Thus we lift our lamps to meet him, Thus we touch our lutes to greet him. Thou shalt give a fonder meeting, Thou shalt give a tenderer greeting.
THEN before All they stand, And ring of gold, no fond illusions now, Bind her as his. Across the threshold led, And every tear kissed off as soon as shed, His house she enters, there to be a light, Shining within, when all without is night; A guardian angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures and his cares dividing, Winning him back when mingling in the throng, Back from a world we love, alas! too long, To fireside happiness, to hours of ease, Blest with that charm, the certainty to please. How oft her eyes read his; her gentle mind To all his wishes, all his thoughts inclined; Still subject, ever on the watch to borrow Mirth of his mirth and sorrow of his sorrow! The soul of music slumbers in the shell, Till waked and kindled by the master's spell, And feeling hearts-touch them but rightly- pour
A thousand melodies unheard before!
With boundless confidence: for naught but love
Can answer love, and render bliss secure. Meantime a smiling offspring rises round, And mingles both their graces. By degrees, The human blossom blows; and every day, Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charm, The father's lustre and the mother's bloom. Then infant reason grows apace, and calls For the kind hand of an assiduous care. To teach the young idea how to shoot, Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix generous purpose in the glowing breast. O, speak the joy! ye whom the sudden tear
Surprises often, while you look around, And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss, All various Nature pressing on the heart; An elegant sufficiency, content, Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, Ease and alternate labor, useful life,
Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven. These are the matchless joys of virtuous love; And thus their moments fly. The Seasons thus, As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll, Still find them happy; and consenting Spring Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads: Till evening comes at last, serene and mild; When after the long vernal day of life, Enamored more, as more remembrance swells With many a proof of recollected love, Together down they sink in social sleep; Together freed, their gentle spirits fly To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign. JAMES THOMSON.
MY WIFE'S A WINSOME WEE THING. SHE is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonnie wee thing,
This sweet wee wife o' mine.
I never saw a fairer,
I never lo'ed a dearer,
And neist my heart I'll wear her, For fear my jewel tine.
She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonnie wee thing, This sweet wee wife o' mine.
The warld's wrack we share o't, The warstle and the care o't: Wi' her I'll blythely bear it, And think my lot divine.
Air, "A TRIP TO THE COTTAGE,"
O THE banks of the Lee, the banks of the Lee, And love in a cottage for Mary and me! There's not in the land a lovelier tide,
My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die; Albeit I ask no fairer life than this, Whose numbering-clock is still thy gentle kiss, While Time and Peace with hands unlockéd fly, -
And I'm sure that there's no one so fair as my bride. Yet care I not where in Eternity
She's modest and meek,
There's a down on her cheek, And her skin is as sleek
As a butterfly's wing;
Then her step would scarce show On the fresh-fallen snow, And her whisper is low,
But as clear as the spring.
O the banks of the Lee, the banks of the Lee, And love in a cottage for Mary and me! I know not how love is happy elsewhere, I know not how any but lovers are there.
O, so green is the grass, so clear is the stream, So mild is the mist and so rich is the beam, That beauty should never to other lands roam, But make on the banks of our river its home! When, dripping with dew, The roses peep through, "T is to look in at you
They are growing so fast; While the scent of the flowers Must be hoarded for hours,
'T is poured in such showers
When my Mary goes past.
O the banks of the Lee, the banks of the Lee,
And love in a cottage for Mary and me!
O, Mary for me, Mary for me,
We live and love, well knowing that there is No backward step for those who feel the bliss Of Faith as their most lofty yearnings high: Love hath so purified my being's core, Meseems I scarcely should be startled, even, To find, some morn, that thou hadst gone before; Since, with thy love, this knowledge too was given,
Which each calm day doth strengthen more and
That they who love are but one step from Heaven.
I CANNOT think that thou shouldst pass away, Whose life to mine is an eternal law,
A piece of nature that can have no flaw, A new and certain sunrise every day; But, if thou art to be another ray About the Sun of Life, and art to live Free from all of thee that was fugitive, The debt of Love I will more fully pay, Not downcast with the thought of thee so high, But rather raised to be a nobler man, And more divine in my humanity, As knowing that the waiting eyes which scan My life are lighted by a purer being,
And 't is little I'd sigh for the banks of the Lee! And ask meek, calm-browed deeds, with it agree
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