Dauntlessly aside she flings Still 'tis told by Indian fires, FROM POCAHONTAS. Returning from the cruel fight How pale and faint appears my knight! He sees me anxious at his side; "Why seek, my love, your wounds to hide? Or deem your English girl afraid To emulate the Indian maid? Be mine my husband's grief to cheer, In peril to be ever near ; Whate'er of ill or woe betide, To bear it clinging at his side; The poisoned stroke of fate to ward, His bosom with my own to guard : Ah! could it spare a pang to his, It could not know a purer bliss! 'Twould gladden as it felt the smart, And thank the hand that flung the dart! LOVE-SONGS MADE EASY. WHAT MAKES MY HEART TO THRILL AND GLOW? THE MAYFAIR LOVE-SONG. WINTER and summer, night and morn, I languish at this table dark; er looks into St. James's Park. I am a Foreign-Office Clerk. My toils, my pleasures, every one, I find are stale, and dull, and slow; My wearied brains out out to blow. What is it makes my blood to run? What makes my heart to beat and glow? My notes of hand are burnt, perhaps? Some one has paid my tailor's bill? No every morn the tailor raps; My IO U's are extant still. I still am prey of debt and dun; I know my chief's distrust and hate; Right Honourable Edmund Burke ! And all my heart to swell and glow? Why, why is all so bright and gay? Disgusting as it ever was. At three, I went and tried the Clubs, At half-past four I had the cab; And dirty brown the London snow. er down by dear old Bolton Row, A something made my heart to pant, And caused my cheek to flush and glow. What could it be that made me find WHAT MAKES MY HEART TO THRILL AND GLOW? 81 What was it made me drink like mad She's home again! she's home, she's home! THE GHAZUL, OR ORIENTAL LOVE-SONG. THE ROCKS. I WAS a timid little antelope; My home was in the rocks, the lonely rocks. I saw the hunters scouring on the plain; I was a-thirsty in the summer-heat; I ventured to the tents beneath the rocks. Zuleikah brought me water from the well; I saw her face reflected in the well; Her camels since have marched into the rocks. I look to see her image in the well; |