XI. THE canvas rattled on the mast, As rose the swelling sail; And gallantly the vessel passed Before the cheering gale; And on my First Sir Florice stood, As the far shore faded now, 27 And looked upon the lengthening flood My lady love, my lady love, Sir Florice lay in a dungeon cell, But still he struck my Second there, Those hours when every hue was fair, And every hope was true: 17* 'If still your angel footsteps move, Where mine may never be, My lady love, my lady love, Oh, dream one dream of me!" Not long the Christian captive pined!- So white a skin to deck k; Queen Folly ne'er was yet content Will rarely sigh for more ;- My body to the sea, My heart to thee, my lady love, Oh, weep one tear for me!" XII. Row on, row on!-The First may light My shallop o'er the wave to-night; As a madman's wish, or a woman's will. Row on, row on !-The Second is high Row on, row on!-When the Whole is fled, The song will be hushed, and the rapture dead; And I must go in my grief again To the toils of day, and the haunts of men, And memory's dream of the things that were. XIII. ONE day my First young Cupid made For alas! he has learn'd his father's trade, He work'd not the work with golden twine, He left the metal to rust in the mine, My Second was born a wayward thing With a fancy as light as the gossamer's wing, And a spirit as hot as flame, And apt to trifle time away, And rather fool than knave, And either very gravely gay, Or very gayly grave; And far too weak, and far too wild, To rend what Venus' laughing child And alas! as he led, that festal night, And felt, by the flambeau's flickering light, He did not guess-as they paused to hear, How music's dying tone. Came mournfully to the distant ear, With a magic all its own— That the archer god, to thrall his soul, Disguised that evening, like my Whole, With a sooty face and torch. |