Victorian Songs Part 14

Three fishers went sailing away to the West, Away to the West as the sun went down; Each thought on the woman who loved him the best, And the children stood watching them out of the town; For men must work, and women must weep, And there 's little to earn, and many to keep, Though the harbor bar be moaning.

Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower, And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down; They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower, And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown.

But men must work, and women must weep, Though storms be sudden, and waters deep, And the harbor bar be moaning.

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Three corpses lay out on the shining sands In the morning gleam as the tide went down, And the women are weeping and wringing their hands For those who will never come home to the town; For men must work, and women must weep, And the sooner it 's over, the sooner to sleep; And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.

[Decoration]

_A FAREWELL._

To C. E. G.--1856.

My fairest child, I have no song to give you; No lark could pipe in skies so dull and gray; Yet, if you will, one quiet hint I 'll leave you, For every day.

I 'll tell you how to sing a clearer carol Than lark who hails the dawn of breezy down; To earn yourself a purer poet's laurel Than Shakespeare's crown.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who can be clever; Do lovely things, not dream them, all day long; And so make Life, and Death, and that For Ever, One grand sweet song.

[Decoration]

WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.

1775-1864.

_ROSE AYLMER._

Ah, what avails the sceptered race!

Ah, what the form divine!

What every virtue, every grace!

Rose Aylmer, all were thine.

Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee.

_RUBIES._

Often I have heard it said That her lips are ruby-red.

Little heed I what they say, I have seen as red as they.

Ere she smiled on other men, Real rubies were they then.

When she kissed me once in play, Rubies were less bright than they, And less bright were those which shone In the palace of the Sun.

Will they be as bright again?

Not if kissed by other men.

[Decoration]

_THE FAULT IS NOT MINE._

The fault is not mine if I love you too much, I loved you too little too long, Such ever your graces, your tenderness such, And the music the heart gave the tongue.

A time is now coming when Love must be gone, Tho' he never abandoned me yet.

Acknowledge our friendship, our pa.s.sion disown, Our follies (ah can you?) forget.

[Decoration]

_UNDER THE LINDENS._

Under the lindens lately sat A couple, and no more, in chat; I wondered what they would be at Under the lindens.

I saw four eyes and four lips meet, I heard the words, _"How sweet! how sweet!"_ Had then the Faeries given a treat Under the lindens?

I pondered long and could not tell What dainty pleased them both so well: Bees! bees! was it your hydromel Under the lindens?

[Decoration]

_SIXTEEN._

In Clementina's artless mien Lucilla asks me what I see,-- And are the roses of sixteen Enough for me?

Lucilla asks, if that be all, Have I not culled as sweet before?

Ah yes, Lucilla! and their fall I still deplore.

I now behold another scene, Where Pleasure beams with heaven's own light,-- More pure, more constant, more serene, And not less bright:

Faith, on whose breast the Loves repose, Whose chain of flowers no force can sever, And Modesty, who, when she goes, Is gone forever!

_IANTHE._

Thank Heaven, Ianthe, once again Our hands and ardent lips shall meet, And Pleasure, to a.s.sert his reign, Scatter ten thousand kisses sweet: Then cease repeating while you mourn, "I wonder when he will return."

Ah wherefore should you so admire The flowing words that fill my song, Why call them artless, yet require "Some promise from that tuneful tongue?"

I doubt if heaven itself could part A tuneful tongue and tender heart.

[Decoration]

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