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Hush, hush! tread softly! hush, hush, my dear!
well That the jealous, the jealous old bald-pate may hear, Tho' you 've padded his night-cap-O sweet Isabel !
Tho' your feet are more light than a Faery's feet,
Who dances on bubbles where brooklets meet,Hush, hush! soft tiptoe! hush, hush, my dear ! For less than a nothing the jealous can hear.
No leaf doth tremble, no ripple is there
On the river,-all's still, and the night's sleepy eye
Has fled to her bower, well knowing I want
Lift the latch ! ah gently! ah tenderly—sweet !
We are dead if that latchet gives one little clink! Well done—now those lips, and a flowery seatThe old man may sleep, and the planets may wink;
The shut rose shall dream of our loves and awake
Full-blown, and such warmth for the morning take, The stock-dove shall hatch his soft twin-eggs and
COO, While I kiss to the melody, aching all through!
1818. I HAD a dove and the sweet doye died;
And I have thought it died of grieving: O, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied,
With a silken thread of my own hand's weaving; Sweet little red feet! why should you
peas; Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees?
SHED no tear! 0, shed no tear !
Shed no tear.
Overhead ! look overhead !
I flutter now
Adieu, Adieu !
SPIRIT here that reignest!
Spirit ! I bow
My forehead low,
Spirit ! I look,
Spirit here that laughest !
Spirit! with thee
I join in the glee,
Spirit! I flush
With a Bacchanal blush,
Ar! woe is me! poor silver-wing!
That I must chaunt thy lady's dirge, And death to this fair haunt of spring, Of melody, and streams of flowery verge,
Poor silver-wing ! ah! woe is me!
That I must see
Go, pretty page! and in her ear
Softly tell her not to fear
Go, pretty page! and soothly tell, —
The blossoms hang by a melting spell, And fall they must, ere a star wink thrice
Upon her closed eyes, That now in vain are weeping their last tears,
At sweet life leaving, and these arbours green, Rich dowry from the Spirit of the Spheres.
Alas! poor Queen!