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Whom I forsake in sorrows old,
Hen. Thy friends, thy father's house resign; My friends, my house, my all is thine : Awake, arise, my wedded wife, To higher thoughts and happier lise ! For thee the marriage feast is spread, For thee the virgins deck the bed ; The star of Venus shines above, And all thy future life is love. They rise, the dear domestic hours ! The May of love unfolds her flow'rs; Youth, beauty, pleasure spread the feast, And friendship sits a constant guest; In cheerful peace the morn ascends, In wine and love the evening ends ; At distance grandeur sheds a ray, To gild the evening of our day. Connubial love has dearer names, And finer ties, and sweeter claims, Than e'er unwedded hearts can feel, Than wedded hearts can e'er reveal; Pure as the charities above, Rise the sweet sympathies of love ; And closer cords than those of life Unite the husband to the wife. Like cherubs new come from the skies, Henrys and Harriets round us rise; And playing wanton in the hall, With accent sweet their parents call; To your fair images I run, You clasp the husband in the son ; Oh how the mother's heart will bound! Oh how the father's joy be crown'd!
THE BRAES OF YARROW.
Tuy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream!
When first on them I met my lover : Thy braes how dreary, Yarrow stream !
When now thy waves his body cover. For ever now, oh Yarrow stream,
Thou art to me a stream of sorrow; For never on thy banks shall I
Behold my love, the flower of Yarrow. He promised me a milkwhite steed
To bear me to his father's bowers ; He promised me a little page,
To 'squire me to his father's towers ; He promised me a wedding-ring
The wedding-day was fix’d to-morrow: Now he is wedded to his grave,
Alas! his wat’ry grave in Yarrow.
Sweet were his words when last we met
My passion I as freely told him ; Clasp'd in his arms, I little thought
That I should never more behold him. Scarce was he gone, I saw his ghost,
It vanish'd with a shriek of sorrow; Thrice did the water wraith ascend,
And give a doleful groan through Yarrow.
His mother from the window look’d,
With all the longing of a mother; His little sister, weeping, walk'd
The greenwood path to meet her brother: They sought him east, they sought him west,
They sought him all the forest thorough, They only saw the cloud of night,
They only heard the roar of Yarrow.
No longer from thy window look
Thou hast no son, thou tender mother ! No longer walk, thou lovely maid
Alas! thou hast no more a brother. No longer seek him east or west,
And search no more the forest thorough, For, wandering in the night so dark,
He fell a lifeless corse in Yarrow.
The tear shall never leave my cheek,
No other youth shall be my marrow; I'll seek thy body in the stream,
And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow. The tear did never leave her cheek,
No other youth became her marrow; She found his body in the stream,
And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow.
NATHANIEL Corton. 1707-1788.
Dear Chloe, while the busy crowd,
In folly's maze advance ;
Nor join the giddy dance.
Where love our hours einploys;
To spoil our heartfelt joys,
If solid happiness we prize,
And they are fools who roam ;
And that dear hut our home.
That safe retreat, the ark ;
Explored the sacred bark. Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle powers, We, who improve his golden hours,
By sweet experience know,
A paradise below.
Whence pleasures ever rise :
And train them for the skies.
And crown our hoary hairs;
And recompense our cares.
Or by the world forgot :
Our portion is not large, indeed,
For nature's calls are few !
And make that little do.
Nor aim beyond our power; For, if our stock be very small, 'Tis prudence to enjoy it all,
Nor lose the present hour.
And pleased with favours given;
Whose fragrance smells to heaven. We'll ask no long-protracted treat, Since winter-life is seldom sweet ;
But, when our feast is o'er, Grateful from table we'll arise, Nor grudge our sons, with envious eyes,
The relics of our store. Thus hand in hand through life we'll go; Its checker'd paths of joy and wo
With cautious steps we'll tread; Quit its vain scenes without a tear, Without a trouble or a fear,
And mingle with the dead.
And cheer our dying breath;
And smooth the bed of death.