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Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine — Volume 56, No. 345, July, 1844
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2018
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"Fair young man! thy thread of life is broken,
Human skill can bring no aid to thee.
There thou hast my chain—a ghastly token—
And this lock of thine I take with me.
Soon must thou decay,
Soon wilt thou be gray,
Dark although to-night thy tresses be.
XXVIII
"Mother! hear, oh hear my last entreaty!
Let the funeral pile arise once more;
Open up my wretched tomb for pity,
And in flames our souls to peace restore.
When the ashes glow,
When the fire-sparks flow,
To the ancient gods aloft we soar."
After this most powerful and original ballad, let us turn to something more genial. The three following poems are exquisite specimens of the varied genius of our author; and we hardly know whether to prefer the plaintive beauty of the first, or the light and sportive brilliancy of the other twain.
FIRST LOVE
Oh, who will bring me back the day,
So beautiful, so bright!
Those days when love first bore my heart
Aloft on pinions light?
Oh, who will bring me but an hour
Of that delightful time,
And wake in me again the power
That fired my golden prime?
I nurse my wound in solitude,
I sigh the livelong day,
And mourn the joys, in wayward mood,
That now are pass'd away.
Oh, who will bring me back the days
Of that delightful time,
And wake in me again the blaze
That fired my golden prime?
WHO'LL BUY A CUPID?
Of all the wares so pretty
That come into the city,
There's none are so delicious,
There's none are half so precious,
As those which we are binging.
O, listen to our singing!
Young loves to sell! young loves to sell!
My pretty loves who'll buy?
First look you at the oldest,
The wantonest, the boldest!
So loosely goes he hopping,
From tree and thicket dropping,
Then flies aloft as sprightly—
We dare but praise him lightly!
The fickle rogue! Young loves to sell!
My pretty loves who'll buy?
Now see this little creature—
How modest seems his feature!
He nestles so demurely,
You'd think him safer surely;
And yet for all his shyness,
There's danger in his slyness!
The cunning rogue! Young loves to sell!
My pretty loves who'll buy?
Oh come and see this lovelet,
This little turtle-dovelet!
The maidens that are neatest,
The tenderest and sweetest,
Should buy it to amuse 'em,
And nurse it in their bosom.
The little pet! Young loves to sell!
My pretty loves who'll buy?
We need not bid you buy them,
They're here, if you will try them.
They like to change their cages;
But for their proving sages
No warrant will we utter—
They all have wings to flutter.
The pretty birds! Young loves to sell!
Such beauties! Come and buy!
SECOND LIFE
After life's departing sigh,
To the spots I loved most dearly,
In the sunshine and the shadow,
By the fountain welling clearly,
Through the wood and o'er the meadow,
Flit I like a butterfly.
There a gentle pair I spy.
Round the maiden's tresses flying,
From her chaplet I discover
All that I had lost in dying,
Human skill can bring no aid to thee.
There thou hast my chain—a ghastly token—
And this lock of thine I take with me.
Soon must thou decay,
Soon wilt thou be gray,
Dark although to-night thy tresses be.
XXVIII
"Mother! hear, oh hear my last entreaty!
Let the funeral pile arise once more;
Open up my wretched tomb for pity,
And in flames our souls to peace restore.
When the ashes glow,
When the fire-sparks flow,
To the ancient gods aloft we soar."
After this most powerful and original ballad, let us turn to something more genial. The three following poems are exquisite specimens of the varied genius of our author; and we hardly know whether to prefer the plaintive beauty of the first, or the light and sportive brilliancy of the other twain.
FIRST LOVE
Oh, who will bring me back the day,
So beautiful, so bright!
Those days when love first bore my heart
Aloft on pinions light?
Oh, who will bring me but an hour
Of that delightful time,
And wake in me again the power
That fired my golden prime?
I nurse my wound in solitude,
I sigh the livelong day,
And mourn the joys, in wayward mood,
That now are pass'd away.
Oh, who will bring me back the days
Of that delightful time,
And wake in me again the blaze
That fired my golden prime?
WHO'LL BUY A CUPID?
Of all the wares so pretty
That come into the city,
There's none are so delicious,
There's none are half so precious,
As those which we are binging.
O, listen to our singing!
Young loves to sell! young loves to sell!
My pretty loves who'll buy?
First look you at the oldest,
The wantonest, the boldest!
So loosely goes he hopping,
From tree and thicket dropping,
Then flies aloft as sprightly—
We dare but praise him lightly!
The fickle rogue! Young loves to sell!
My pretty loves who'll buy?
Now see this little creature—
How modest seems his feature!
He nestles so demurely,
You'd think him safer surely;
And yet for all his shyness,
There's danger in his slyness!
The cunning rogue! Young loves to sell!
My pretty loves who'll buy?
Oh come and see this lovelet,
This little turtle-dovelet!
The maidens that are neatest,
The tenderest and sweetest,
Should buy it to amuse 'em,
And nurse it in their bosom.
The little pet! Young loves to sell!
My pretty loves who'll buy?
We need not bid you buy them,
They're here, if you will try them.
They like to change their cages;
But for their proving sages
No warrant will we utter—
They all have wings to flutter.
The pretty birds! Young loves to sell!
Such beauties! Come and buy!
SECOND LIFE
After life's departing sigh,
To the spots I loved most dearly,
In the sunshine and the shadow,
By the fountain welling clearly,
Through the wood and o'er the meadow,
Flit I like a butterfly.
There a gentle pair I spy.
Round the maiden's tresses flying,
From her chaplet I discover
All that I had lost in dying,
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