Читать книгу The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe - Various - Страница 31

Table of Contents

"Go!" said the angry weeping maid,

"The charm is broken!—once betray'd,

Oh! never can my heart rely

On word or look, on oath or sigh.

Take back the gifts, so sweetly given,

With promis'd faith and vows to heaven;

That little ring, which, night and morn,

With wedded truth my hand hath worn;

That seal which oft, in moments blest,

Thou hast upon my lip imprest,

And sworn its dewy spring should be

A fountain seal'd for only thee!

Take, take them back, the gift and vow,

All sullied, lost, and hateful, now!"

I took the ring—the seal I took,

While oh! her every tear and look

Were such as angels look and shed,

When man is by the world misled!

Gently I whisper'd, "FANNY, dear!

Not half thy lover's gifts are here:

Say, where are all the seals he gave

To every ringlet's jetty wave,

And where is every one he printed

Upon that lip, so ruby-tinted—

Seals of the purest gem of bliss,

Oh! richer, softer, far than this!

"And then the ring—my love! recall

How many rings, delicious all,

His arms around that neck hath twisted,

Twining warmer far than this did!

Where are they all, so sweet, so many?

Oh! dearest, give back all, if any!"

While thus I murmur'd, trembling too

Lest all the nymph had vow'd was true,

I saw a smile relenting rise

'Mid the moist azure of her eyes.

Like day-light o'er a sea of blue,

While yet the air is dim with dew!

She let her cheek repose on mine,

She let my arms around her twine—

Oh! who can tell the bliss one feels

In thus exchanging rings and seals!