Before the loveliest there I'd have him bend his knee, IV. And tell him, day by day, Although I pray for him; Come to our favourite tree; (JULY 20, 1829.) WHERE IS MISS MYRTLE? AIR-"Sweet Kitty Clover." I. WHERE is Miss Myrtle? can any one tell? She flies to the window when Arundel rings,- She's all over smiles when Lord Archibald sings, It's plain that her Cupid has two pair of wings: Her love and my love are different things; II. I brought her, one morning, a rose for her brow; Where is she gone, where is she gone? She told me such horrors were never worn now; And I-am left all alone! But I saw her at night with a rose in her hair, And I guess who it came from-of course I don't care! We all know that girls are as false as they're fair; Where is she gone, where is she gone? I'm sure the lieutenant's a horrible bear, III. Whenever we go on the Downs for a ride,— And I-am left all alone! And whenever I take her down stairs from a ball, She nods to some puppy to put on her shawl: I'm a peaceable man, and I don't like a brawl;Where is she gone, where is she gone? But I would give a trifle to horsewhip them all; And I-am left all alone! IV. She tells me her mother belongs to the sect,Where is she gone, where is she gone? Which holds that all waltzing is quite incorrect: And I-am left all alone! But a fire's in my heart, a fire's in my brain, When she waltzes away with Sir Phelim O'Shane; I don't think I ever can ask her again: Where is she gone, where is she gone? And, Lord! since the summer she's grown very plain; And I am left all alone! V. She said that she liked me a twelvemonth ago; Where is she gone, where is she gone? And how should I guess that she'd torture me so? Some day she'll find out it was not very wise (1881.) THE CONFESSION. I. FATHER-Father-I confess Here he kneeled and sighed, When the moon's soft loveliness Slept on surf and tide. In my ear the prayer he prayed But the answer that I made Father-I forget! Ora pro me! II. Father-Father-I confess Precious gifts he brought; Satin sandal, silken dress; Richer ne'er were wrought; Gems that make the daylight dim, Plumes in gay gold set;But the gaud I gave to him Father-I forget! Ora pro me! III. Father-father-I confess He's my beauty's thrall, All his dreams are aye of me, Ora pro me! LAST WORDS. I. FARE thee well, love,-fare thee well! From the world I pass away, Where the brightest things that dwell All deceive, and all decay; Cheerfully I fall asleep, As by some mysterious spell; Yet I weep, to see thee weep; Fare thee well, love,-fare thee well! |